Please tell me you’re not still staring at that same boy?”
Ben Langford made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, in the vague hope that his friend might be satisfied with the non-answer and let him go back to staring at the young man on the other side of the road in peace.
“He’s probably just waiting for the damn bus,” Paul said—not for the first time that afternoon.
“Probably,” Langford allowed. The boy was probably just sitting on the bench by the bus stop in the rain because he was waiting for a bus. It was a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Still, Langford couldn’t quite bring himself ignore the fact that there was another, equally plausible, reason for a man to linger opposite the park that was currently