Page 19
“My patience only extends so far, Shilo. Disappear like that again, and there will be consequences.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the low rumble of his voice, my blood thrumming as I peek up at him. “Like what?”
Ryann’s eyes flash, nostrils flaring as he searches my face. His breath flutters the purple strands of my hair when he leans in, sending goosebumps over my skin, his lips brushing my ear when he parts them to speak—
My name being called has him straightening quickly.
“Shilo, you ready?” KC appears next to us, his eyes twinkling as he looks from me to Ryann. “Oops, am I interrupting?”
“Nope, let’s go.” Grabbing KC’s wrist, I practically run for the front doors, calling over my shoulder. “Have a good night, Mr. Callahan!”
It isn’t until we reach the parking lot that I let go of his wrist and breathe, immediately freezing from the October wind cutting through my sweater. What the hell was that?! Not the reaction from him I’d wanted, that’s for sure. I meant to make him mad, not…not whatever that was.
“My car’s this way.” KC jerks a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing toward an old pink Volkswagen beetle. “Passenger seat’s a little messy though, so you might have to move some stuff.”
Dammit. I should’ve made up an excuse.
The ‘stuff’ is mostly paint supplies—canvas, brushes, a foldable easel. Apparently, KC’s an art major at UDub, in his senior year. The Café is his second job. His first? Yoga instructor at CalTek’s gym, where he met Ryann. Great. He’s got two roommates, and they all rotate making dinner. I guess tonight is his night.
“I make the best risotto, swear to god. It’ll taste like an orgasm in your mouth.”
I choke on the water bottle I’m sipping as he leads me up the steps of a small brick apartment building fifteen minutes away from work, nearly tripping on the rain-slicked surface. A flush heats my cheeks as he chuckles, stopping before a rusted metal door that reads ‘#9’. The hinges groan when he shoves it open by a shoulder, echoing loudly, and I rub my chilled hands together as I step inside reluctantly, considering texting Paige to get me out of this.
The space is small—barely enough room for a saggy-looking sofa and coffee table. Shelves of succulents line brick walls, a skylight reflecting off industrial cabinets in the kitchen. A grated spiral staircase leads to the loft, where someone about my age with jaw-length dark hair leans over the railing, blinking at us groggily.
“Mornin’, gorgeous,” KC chirps, using his shoulder to shove the door closed. “Shilo, this is Tina, one of my roommates. Pronouns are they and them.”
“Another boyfriend of yours?” Tina asks, yawning as their lip piercings glint in the light.
KC rolls his eyes. “He’s a boy, and he’s a friend, but he’s not mine. No offense.” He shoots me an apologetic grin. “I’m not into twinks.”
I blink, unsure how to respond as Tina laughs and retreats back into the loft.
“But you are a twink.”
“Yes, thank you, and I don’t want to fuck one. I like my men with more meat on their bones.” He saunters into the kitchen after throwing his bag onto the couch, and I can’t stop the words from flying out of my mouth.
“Men like Ryann?”
Shit. Why, brain? Why?
KC pauses mid-motion, pulling out a pot, his back to me. His response is slow. “Muscle men, I suppose. Working in a fitness center has done wonders for my sex life. You’d be surprised how many closeted gym bros there are.”
A snort comes from upstairs, but I stay silent, shuffling awkwardly as I scan the room.
He glances over his shoulder at me, rifling through the fridge. “Anyway, feel free to make yourself at home. Bathroom’s down the hall, my room’s next to it. Our other roommate, Carpenter, crashes on the couch but won’t be back til later.”
Without much else to say, I just nod, following his directions to his room, where a computer setup similar to mine rests on his desk. Clothes cover the pink platform bed, and there’s a large window with a view of the fire escape. The walls are covered in paintings, and I laugh when I spot lewd drawings of various male superheroes, some fully naked.
What would Dad say if I had stuff like this hanging in my room? Probably nothing good.
While KC and Tina banter back and forth, I pull my laptop out of my backpack and settle into the desk chair, content just to listen while I catch up on some assignments I’ve been avoiding. Every once in a while, he’ll shout a question at me, keeping me included while giving me space, and even though I don’t know if it’s intentional, I appreciate it all the same.
When dinner’s finally ready, I leave his room and perch on the arm of the sofa with my plate while KC sits cross-legged on the counter, Tina swinging their legs from the loft.
“So, what’s your story?” Tina asks between mouthfuls. “What made you want to work at CalTek?”
I shrug, taking small bites of food even though I’m not hungry—despite how good it tastes. “Needed an internship for a class, and my sister runs security there. Seemed like a good idea.”
