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Miles crossed his arms. “No thanks. If I settle down, it’s going to be the old-fashioned way. One man, one woman. And that’s a big if.”
“Boooring,” Joey drawled, feigning a yawn, turning his attention back to the game, yelling at the umpire for making a bad call.
Luca pretended to watch as well, but the game couldn’t hold his interest because Joey had introduced an entirely new wrinkle.
And it was one that didn’t upset Luca.
At all.
Chapter Four
Conor stood on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, studying the boarded-up windows. It had been just over a week since the fire, and the code inspector had finally given them the all clear, allowing them to return and declaring construction could continue.
It had also been a week since he’d succumbed to the worst panic attack he’d had in years. Conor kicked himself for making such a mess of things lately. He’d managed to keep the attacks to a bare minimum for ages by keeping his life simple, orderly…predictable.
So much for that.
He had a ticking time bomb in his head, and he needed to take that more seriously than he had been of late.
Luca had suggested Conor and Harper meet him this morning, so the three of them could walk through the building together to see how bad the damage was and to discuss next steps.
Conor hadn’t seen or spoken to either of them since the night of the fire, when he’d run out of the pub like the hounds of Hell were nipping at his heels. He’d fallen back on his old tried and true.
Escape and avoidance.
Jesus.
If Conor had one true talent, it was making an ass of himself in front of Luca Moretti.
He’d been enjoying himself at the pub, the conversation between the three of them flowing easily despite his and Luca’s earlier blowup. It had gotten even better—for all of a minute—when he and Luca had made amends after their ridiculous fight.
Then Harper had suggested they kiss and make up, and Conor had been thrust back to the high school library, to that moment when he’d been a second away from kissing Luca.
Even now, he couldn’t think about that day without feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. He’d harbored a serious crush on Luca since day one of his freshman year, so when sophomore year rolled around and he found himself sitting next to Luca in Spanish class, he’d had to pinch himself almost daily. Because Luca wasn’t just hot; he was the coolest, funniest, most interesting guy Conor had ever known. They’d had a blast in class, and when their Spanish teacher put them together as partners on one of the final projects of the year, Conor felt as if he’d won the lottery.
Working with Luca had been even better than Conor had expected. There wasn’t a lot of laughter in the Russo house, something Conor hadn’t realized he missed until spending time with Luca. The two of them had spent a full week after school working on the Spanish assignment in the library, stealing as much time as they could before Luca had to go to baseball practice.
Luca had kept Conor laughing the whole time as he tried to speak Spanish, using an accent that sounded more Australian than Latino, saying all the wrong words. They hadn’t gotten much work done, but Conor hadn’t cared because he was spending time with someone who actually saw and liked him for who he was. Luca didn’t hold back, complimenting him for being so smart, laughing at Conor’s jokes, and best of all, wrapping his arm around his neck to roughhouse with him.
Fifteen-year-old Conor had been struck by first love, falling hard for Luca. So hard, he’d lost sight of who he was—and who he couldn’t be.
He was a Russo; Luca, a Moretti.
While that didn’t matter these days, back when Dad was still alive, it mattered a lot. Although, Conor was perfectly aware him falling for a Moretti would pale in comparison to him falling for a guy. Dad’s misogyny was only bested by his outright homophobia. Conor shuddered to think about what Dad would have done if he’d learned his youngest son was bisexual.
Russos aren’t weak.
Russos don’t fail.
And Russos sure as shit aren’t gay either.
At least not in his dad’s world.
Conor had let himself forget—or perhaps ignore was a better word—that fact whenever he was with Luca because he was in love, and he’d thought…actually, he’d been certain the attraction wasn’t one-sided, that Luca liked him too. He was young, inexperienced, and he’d mistaken all of Luca’s attention as flirting.
At the end of that week in the library, he and Luca had ventured into the stacks in search of a book to fulfill the “print source” requirement of their assignment. Luca walked up behind Conor and reached above his head to grab a book off the shelf. Conor turned, unaware of how close Luca was standing. Conor could see the specks of gold in Luca’s light brown eyes, could feel the heat of his breath against his face.
Conor’s heart raced, thinking this was it.
