Keeping Casey (Keeping Him #1) - Amy Aislin Page 0,38

Hill spread out in front of them, the streets in a grid pattern, with GH standing out on the left, Main Street several miles away to the right, and the church spire peeking through treetops. With fall colors in abundance, from here Glen Hill was bright orange under the fall sun.

Leaning against the iron railing that ran the length of the overlook, Ethan breathed in the crisp air and the scent of earth and decaying leaves. Casey crept in beside him, wedging their shoulders together, warming Ethan on one side and sending a zing of awareness from his shoulder all the way into his toes. Behind them, the club president had laid out a blanket for anyone who wanted to sit and snack while admiring the view.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” Casey said quietly.

“If I’d known I’d have to endure your bad costume ideas the entire time, I would’ve stayed home.”

With his earlier disappointment still hanging heavy over his day, Casey’s laughter was the best thing he could’ve asked for.

Chapter Ten

In a nod to their twelfth-grade play, they ended up going as the Cowardly Lion and the Scarecrow.

Casey refilled his red Solo cup in the kitchen, where half the party was happening, surrounded by vampires, police officers, slutty nurses, and more he couldn’t name. Everything from the sexy to the creepy. Some people had put minimal effort into their costumes; others had gone all out. Casey figured he and Ethan fell somewhere in the middle. From the lounge came the thump of “Monster Mash.”

Ethan’s dad had shipped him the Cowardly Lion onesie, except Ethan had bulked up in his two years in the juniors, and it was too tight in the shoulders and upper arms. Casey ended up wearing it instead, while Ethan wore maroon pants, a forest green tunic, and a pointed hat. Bits of fake hay were glued to his shirt at the elbows and wrists, to the underside of his hat, and to the hem of his pants.

Currently, Ethan had his back to Casey as he spoke with a small group of people: Sommersby and his date; Theo; and Erica from the Archeology Club that Casey hadn’t had time to participate in yet.

The kitchen island was covered in food, and as Casey grabbed a plate and filled it with appetizers that Ethan could actually eat—raw vegetables and hummus, crispy eggplant bites, and tiny bruschetta crostini things—a tall guy wearing a cow-print onesie nudged his way between Erica and Sommersby, giving Ethan a once over as he did so.

Oh, hell no. Growling underneath his breath, Casey left the plate and his beer on the counter. Nudging his own way in between Ethan and Theo, he took Ethan’s arm and draped it over his own shoulders, hay tickling his cheek.

Subtle?

No.

Did he care?

Double no.

Was it appropriate?

Well . . . not so much. Especially since Ethan wasn’t his to claim.

Ethan stiffened slightly at the contact, something Casey had come to expect since their hike earlier in the month. Didn’t help that they hadn’t talked about what Casey had said, hadn’t cleared the air between them. But Ethan hadn’t brought it up again and Casey sure as hell hadn’t.

He had a feeling he’d have to. The way Ethan tensed when Casey touched him made his stomach clench. And he didn’t like that Ethan hadn’t once stayed over in the last few weeks. Hadn’t invited Casey to dinner at the House either. It felt like Ethan was pulling back and Casey would have none of it.

“Hey,” Ethan said, his arm loosening around Casey’s shoulders. Casey shamelessly leaned against him. Somewhere beyond them, one of their teammates called Sommersby’s name and he wandered off with his date.

“Where’d you go?” Ethan asked.

“To get more beer.”

He glanced down at Casey’s empty hands.

Casey cleared his throat. “Decided I didn’t want it. What did I miss here?”

“Not much. This is Ken, by the way. We’ve got chemistry together. Ken, this is Casey.”

A smarty pants like Ethan, then. Was that the type of guy Ethan was attracted to?

“His boyfriend,” Casey added since it didn’t look like Ethan was going to. He held out a hand. “Good to meet you.”

On his left, Theo snorted and leaned closer to whisper, “Britton’s nowhere around, man,” in Casey’s ear.

Casey elbowed him in the ribs. Britton was inconsequential.

“Good to meet you too,” Ken said, shaking his hand. What kind of magic let him be attractive even while wearing a cow onesie? Sharp features, a stubbled jaw, bright blue eyes, black hair. Casey felt