It's Jonas

Matt rolled the window down.

Jonas crouched beside the truck, firelight dancing across his face. "Hey, you okay? You kind of bolted."

"Yeah, I just—" Matt's voice caught. It was higher now, undeniably feminine. "Needed a minute."

Jonas tilted his head, studying him. His eyes lingered a beat too long on Matt's face, then drifted lower, catching on the open flannel before Matt yanked it closed.

"Sorry," Jonas said quickly, looking away. "I wasn't..."

"It's fine."

An awkward silence. The crickets filled it.

"You really do look different tonight," Jonas said quietly. "I can't figure out what it is. Something about your..." He gestured vaguely at his own face, frustrated. "I don't know. Eyes, maybe."

Matt felt heat rise to his cheeks, and realized the blush itself felt different. Softer. Spreading down his neck to his chest.

The ring pulsed, and he felt his hips shift in the seat, not dramatically, but enough that his pants loosened around the waist while tightening across the seat. The bones beneath his skin felt like they were sliding, rearranging, widening by millimeters.

He pressed his thighs together instinctively.

"Matt?"

"I'm good," he said, too fast. "I'll be back in a sec."

Jonas nodded slowly but didn't move. "You sure? We could just leave if you're not feeling well. I can drive you."

That warmth flooded Matt's chest again, that magnetic pull toward Jonas that made his breath catch and his new breasts ache faintly with a sensation he didn't want to name.