Chapter 27
“Hey,” Jim says, his voice barely audible over the quiet radio.
Alan turns in his seat, or as much as he can with the steering wheel in his way. He matches Jim’s tone. “Right, well. Here we are.”
Jim turns, too, leaning his head against the back of the seat. His hand pulls Alan’s over onto his side of the car. It’s on his upper thigh now, and Alan’s all too aware of how close Jim’s crotch is to their clasped fingers. Something wiggly flutters through his stomach.
Christ, this again. A man my age doesn’t get nervous about a frigging kiss. It isn’t like it’s my first.