Page 118 of Outcast
We broke the kiss, both looking toward the open garage door.
Marty stood there, gaping at us.
Oh, god.
I looked over his shoulder. The car we’d heard was already driving back toward the highway.
“What the hell?” Marty said, sounding baffled. “Emory?”
“Marty.” I swallowed the bile trying to rise in my throat. “What are you doing here?”
“Me?” He sounded incredulous. “I’m here for my car.”
He waved toward the sedan, and how fucking stupid was I? I should have recognized his black Honda Civic. There were a few in town, but Marty had told me he was having car problems. I’d evensuggestedhe bring it out to Forrester Auto.
“We close at six,” Gray said, voice tight. “We gave up on you twenty minutes ago. You shouldn’t be here right now.” He shot me a panicked look. “No one is supposed to be here right now.”
“Sorry,” Marty said. “I had to catch a ride from my aunt, and she was running late. I didn’t mean to walk in on?—”
“Did she see?” I asked, stomach lurching.
“No, she dropped me and drove straight off. I didn’t even see until I got closer. But…whatdidI see, Emory? Are you two?—”
“There was nothing to see,” Gray cut in. “I made a pass. I thought he was interested, but I was wrong.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry.”
I looked from him to Marty, conflicted. I wasn’t ready to out myself, but this didn’t feel right. There was a flicker of pain in Gray’s eyes I couldn’t ignore. This must have been like déjà vu to him after what happened in this same garage when he was a teenager.
“No.” I put a hand on Gray’s arm. Took a breath. “Don’t lie for me. I’m not going to let him think that about you. I’m not Dallas.”
Marty looked confused. “Dallas?”
I shook my head. “Long story. How about I make some introductions?” I turned to Gray. “Gray, you remember Marty from high school, right? He was one of those yearbook kids always harassing everyone for pictures and quotes. Now, he works for an advertising firm doing pretty much the same thing. He’s one of my closest friends.”
“I remember, yeah,” Gray said, extending a hand to shake. “Any friend of Emory’s is a friend of mine.” He squeezed Marty’s hand and bared his teeth. “Assuming they’re a true friend, of course.”
“Okay, ouch,” Marty said. “No need to break my hand. Emory knows he can trust me.” He sent me a hurt look. “At least, I thought he did. Maybe I was wrong.”
My heart dropped. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I do trust you. Nobody knows about it. It’s new.”
“Not even Allison?”
“Okay, only Allison knows.”
Marty rolled his eyes. “She would find out before me. That woman knows all your dirty secrets.”
“This is notdirty,” I said sharply.
He winced. “No, I know. I didn’t mean it likethat.I’m not a bigot.” He shot a wary look toward Gray, who’d taken a step toward him at my reaction. I reached for Gray’s hand, lacing our fingers, and squeezed gently to reassure him.
“I just meant she’s always the first to know everything,” Marty continued. “Like that time you got grounded for a month, and you were too embarrassed to tell us it was because you got drunk and puked in your mom’s rosebushes? But Allison knew.”
Gray snorted a laugh, and I glared at Marty.
“How about younottell my boyfriend all my embarrassing stories?”
Marty looked more stunned, if possible. “Boyfriend? So, this is serious.”
Shit. No. This wasn’t supposed to be serious, but here I was, introducing Gray, and I couldn’t bring myself to dismiss the importance of our relationship.
