“you’ve got a great body, killer style, and you’re the funniest guy i know. you always make me laugh, like, always! no one makes me laugh like you do. and you’re so smart. you are — without a doubt — the smartest person i’ve ever met.” 

nate said that so easily. so easily that he couldn’t possibly mean it. not the way that kit wanted him to. of course not. kit snapped out of it — a hard crash back into reality. obviously, he’d asked nate to tell him what his perfect “guy” was, because he hadn’t rephrased the question. and clearly nate was having fun with it.

cowboy clive was a caricature of a pure-blooded, completely heterosexual male who was only gay sometimes (all. the. time.)… and also nate’s favorite voice. there was a stupid amount of irony in that fact alone. but kit wasn’t anybody’s therapist and he hadn’t prodded that particular flashing neon sign of obvious-ness…

“seriously,” nate prompted. “we’ve established that you don’t want to ‘bone every guy that touches you’…” nate actually did finger quotes on the last part of his sentence and it was all kit could do not to roll his eyes. nate continued with an insistent, “so?…”

“but seems to me your ex must’ve really done a number on you. i’m not sure if it’s supposed to be that way…”