James looked up at Hartley and licked his lips, contemplated what to say next. What he said next was a lot of pressure, it was going to make or break this and if he fucked it up then he was going to end up upsetting Hartley and probably dying alone somewhere as a closeted fuck up with no hope of finding love. So, you know, the pressure was a little much.

"Good." Fuck. Good? What did good mean? "Great." Okay, getting a little better. "Thank you." Shit. Nope, abort. Abort!