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Chapter twelve
Archie
“Everysingleoneofmy bones aches,” I groan as we walk back to Tom’s place.
As usual, he just rolls his eyes and then returns his attention to Keegan, who is running ahead of us.
“If you’re feeling stiff, maybe we should add in more cardio at training,” he says with a smirk.
?I can’t help the groan that escapes me. “Don’t you work me hard enough?”
“I can always work you harder if you’ve still got the energy to moan.”
My arm brushes against his as we walk and my cock takes notice. Of an arm brush? Fucking hell, I must be horny.?
“What, no innuendo? The door was wide open for that one. You must be off your game, Milligan.”
I look at him in confusion, thinking back over what he just said. I grin when it hits me. “Wow, look at you with your mind in the gutter. I must be rubbing off on you.”
I wait a beat for him to take the opening, but all I get from him is a lip twitch and a wry shake of his head.
I throw my head back with a bark of laughter. “You can’t do it can you? You’re thinking it but you can’t bring yourself to say it.”
“Obviously, I’m more mature than you,” he drawls.?
I scoff. “Just because you’ve got a few extra years on me doesn’t necessarily make you more mature.”
“A few?” His brows shoot up in what appears to be dismay. “I’m nearly double your age.”
I give him a once over, followed by a suggestive wink. “And still looking pretty good from where I’m standing.”
He rolls his eyes, no doubt making the assumption that I’m merely teasing. It’s what he always thinks.
Or maybe it’s just his subtle way of brushing me off and letting me know he’s not interested. Surely if he wanted a piece of all this he’d have responded to one of my many hints by now.
I sigh, resigning myself to the fact that my dream of rolling around with Tom Whitford in a bed of rose petals and cum is probably never going to happen. Clearly, I’m not his type. I bet he goes for equally broody, hot gym guys, who have a wine collection and read old musty books.
I read classics…well, gay fanfiction of them. Holmes and Watson have me in a chokehold right now.
Not as much as the man walking beside me, though. I just can’t stop thinking about him. And it’s so much worse than it ever was when I just fancied him because he was gorgeous and an incredible football player. I know him now. He’s let me into his insanely tiny circle of trust. I’ve been on the receiving end of some of his rare smiles. I watched him interact with his son…
How the bloody hell am I supposed to get over him after all of this?
“Are we nearly at yours?” I ask, snapping myself out of my gloomy thoughts and pasting on a smile. No one wants a sad sack at dinner. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, Keegan disappears through a gated driveway. “Guess that answers that. How did he open it?”
Tom shrugs. “He knows the passcode.”
We make our way into the house and I glance around, my eyes widening as I take it all in. It’s not at all what I expected. I know he’s a down to earth guy, but he’s also proper moody. I was expecting some dark, gothic vibes, but the place is bright and sunny.
I guess I don’t do a great job of hiding my surprise because when Tom turns around and looks at me I’m hit with his characteristic scowl.?“Courtney’s sister was doing an interior design course,” he grunts out.
“Aw, and you offered up your home. What a teddy bear you are.” I can’t help but tease him, that furrow in his brow is just too addictive. “When is she changing it back?”
“She’s not. The colours have been a good brain stimulant for Keegan,” he says in a defensive tone, turning on his heel and stomping down the hall.
Well, that’s put me back in my box, hasn’t it? After a brief pause, I follow after him into a huge kitchen, with a giant granite island in the centre where Keegan is currently perched on a black metal stool, his little legs swinging back and forth.
“So, baked beans?” I ask Keegan, moving up to stand next to him at the island.
