"Because it's no fun to play with a broken toy."

He looks at you for a moment, then sighs and pulls away, sitting up and running a hand back through his sweat-damp hair. "I figured it was something like that," he says. "So, what now?"

"Do you have somewhere we can go?" you ask, also sitting up. "Somewhere with a bed, maybe?"

His cheeks redden, a trait you are finding more and more endearing. "Of course," he says. "We can go to my apartment. We'll have to be quiet so we don't piss off the neighbors, though. Or, I guess we can go to my parent's house. They're on vacation and asked me to look in on the place once in a while. It's in the country, so it's a bit of a drive, but it's secluded."