Page 60 of Twins for Three Bad Boys

I should leave before this gets complicated. Before Wayne finds out. Before I give someone something they can twist.

Fletcher must see it, because he stills.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand landing on my thigh. “Don’t do that.”

I blink. “Do what?”

He shakes his head once, like he’s frustrated with the idea of it, not me. “Look like you’re about to run.”

My throat tightens.

“I wasn’t⁠—”

“Yes, you were,” he says, gentler now. “It’s okay if you need to go. I’m not stopping you.”

My breath catches.

The way he says it does something to me. Because it’s not a challenge. It’s respect. A choice.

I can’t remember the last time I had a choice.

I swallow hard. “I just… I don’t want this to be weird.”

Fletcher’s gaze drops to my mouth for half a second, then back to my eyes.

“I’m not sorry,” he says quietly.

My heart stutters.

“I’m not either,” I whisper, and the words feel dangerous on my tongue.

Admitting it changes the shape of whatever this is.

He exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to keep himself under control again. Even now, I sense he’s balancing on a line.

Then he shifts closer, resting his forearms on his knees, shoulders hunched slightly. He looks less confident now, in a way that feels almost intimate.

He looks at the floor before he glances back at me.

“I’m gonna take you on a date,” he says.

I blink. “What?”

His jaw tightens as if he’s bracing for me to laugh, or say no, or disappear into myself.

“A real one,” he adds, firm. “Not just… this.”

My pulse kicks hard.

I stare at him, my brain scrambling for the right response, but all I have is a stupid, honest one.

“You don’t have to do that,” I say, hating myself a little for saying it.

For shrinking. For trying to make it smaller so it can’t hurt me.

Fletcher’s eyes narrow.

“You can say no,” he murmurs. “But I’m asking.”