Months had passed since Ethan's discussion with Chris, and the funniest part, if Ethan had still been the kind of person who laughed at his own suffering, was that he'd started that conversation thinking it would stay between them.
Instead, because Ethan didn't have Chris's audacity or Chris's talent for treating taboo like a scheduling problem, he'd made the mistake of asking Mia and Leon too.
Chris had been the reasonable one.
He should have never asked the other two.
Mia had immediately turned it into a project. Lists. Options. "What's your type?" delivered like she was sourcing materials for a building permit. Leon, who was sweet and traumatized and apparently fueled by chaos now, had taken one look at Ethan's discomfort and decided it was his civic duty to make it worse. Ethan had walked away from both conversations feeling like he needed a shower and a restraining order.
