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“I don’t want to be a bother anymore,” he goes on. “You got your life. You don’t need the deadweight.”
“You’re not deadweight,” I state at once.
Stefan eyes me, his jaw set and his face blank as stone.
“You don’t have to get a … a damned hotel.” I straighten up my posture, finding a backbone in front of the breathtakingly beautiful shape of Stefan. “You have a free one. Right here. A bed. Food. TV. And … me.”
Stefan’s eyes detach, his gaze drifting to my chest. He looks uncomfortable, yet doesn’t flinch or say anything else.
I feel a stab of doubt. “Do you … Do you not want to stay here? Is it really that unbearable being around me?”
“Nah.” He still doesn’t move, standing there like a big lump of meat. A beautiful big lump of meat. “It’s not, actually.”
I lift an eyebrow. “It’s not?”
He sucks on his tongue and shakes his head, his jaw tightened. “Actually …” His eyes meet mine again. “It’s sort of perfect.”
His words fill my heart up with a warmth I’ve lacked for years. Or maybe it’s the look in his eyes when they meet mine. Deep in them, I feel every good memory between us bursting before me in a thousand vivid colors and emotions.
And then I wrinkle up my face. “Sort of perfect?” I fire back. “Then why the hell are you in such a hurry to get out of here?”
Stefan shrugs, then leans against the counter. “Guess I sort of thought I was a burden on you. I’m not gonna put my friend out just because my life’s over.”
I don’t know where the confidence comes from, but in an instant, I’m my old self, and Stefan is nothing but my thickheaded buddy again. “Your life’s not over, you big drama queen.”
He snorts. “The fuck do you know?” he asks with a little curl to his lips.
“Enough to know that you’re better than this. And you don’t need to feel guilty staying here. You’re fucking welcome to.”
I see a piercing glint of surprise in Stefan’s eyes. He probably didn’t expect this burst of passion from me.
“You can stay here the whole damned month,” I go on. “Fuck what happened between us. We were kids. We’re adults now. And I like …” Shit, this is harder to say than I expected. “I like having you around. Don’t waste your money on a hotel. Whatever’s mine is … is also yours. Stay.”
That one last word—stay—lingers between us for ages. All he does is just lean against that counter with his eyes smoldering me like two cerulean torches.
I lift the phone and give it a wiggle. “Now am I gonna order us Domino’s, or what?”
He smirks appreciatively, then says, “I packed my Xbox.”
I squint at him. “Say what?”
“I know they got two new ones out since we were kids,” he goes on, “but hell, nothing can really beat the classics, am I right?”
Even with the stunned look of what-the-fuck on my face, I know Stefan’s playing it cool with me, not wanting to pour out any more emotion than is absolutely necessary. The years have hardened him even more—his mind and his body.
The old Stefan is still in there, shimmering behind his eyes.
“Hope you’re ready,” I mumble back.
He tilts his head. “For what?”
“Getting your ass kicked at every game all over again.”
Stefan’s face lightens right up. “Hey, when I lose, I lose like a winner. I’m not a bitch.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” I shoot back at him teasingly. “Remind me of that next time you’re a total sore loser after I beat your ass.”
“Ooh, those sound like fighting words to me.”
“You don’t take well to losing,” I remind him, then find my thoughts shifting to a very particular night in our past. “Hell, I remember vividly the soggy cheese puffs you made me eat, you punk.”
His eyes flash with the memory. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. A lopsided smile spills across his face. “You asked for it, daring me like you did. If you dare me, you better be ready to see it through.”
I chuckle through my nostrils, though my face tightens. “If you say so.”
He slaps the counter, then pushes himself off of it as he struts toward the hall. “Order the damned pizza, Caulfield. I’m taking a leak before we commence this gaming marathon we’re gonna have tonight.”
“Careful,” I call out after him. “Paybacks are a bitch.”
“Only if you are one,” he shoots back before the bathroom door shuts, to which I find a smile spreading across my own face.
Stefan’s back.
11
RYAN
We must have played that tired old Xbox until five in the morning. Our asses have made two permanent dents in this couch from the feel of it. A large empty pizza box and an empty basket that once contained a dozen fried wings sit on the kitchen counter behind us. Not to mention the twelve-pack of beer on the coffee table in front of us where our feet are propped up.
