[They would have plenty of time to kiss; Kavinsky was sure of it. Either here or later at his party. For now, he was content to follow Ronan into the house, sipping his beer as they went. Ronan's house was the kind of place that made you feel bad about wearing your shoes inside. Not because it was particularly spotless or anything, but because it had that barefoot-mornings kind of feel to it.
It was homier than any place Kavinsky had ever lived. He felt envious, maybe a little jealous, but he didn't say a word about it. He just kept his shoes on and followed Ronan.
It was just the two of them inside and his hands were full, but he'd never wanted to hug Ronan more.]
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It was homier than any place Kavinsky had ever lived. He felt envious, maybe a little jealous, but he didn't say a word about it. He just kept his shoes on and followed Ronan.
It was just the two of them inside and his hands were full, but he'd never wanted to hug Ronan more.]
What was it like? Growing up here?