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Bodhi looked up at him, then jumped away from the plant. “I didn’t hurt it.”
Those words were like a punch to the gut. How many people had accused Bodhi of that? “It’s a tough plant,” Caleb told him. “They were gifts from Jori. He worked a part time job two summers ago at that nursery over on Fifth Avenue doing plant care.”
Bodhi’s face softened, the worry bleeding from his eyes. “I think that would be nice. No people to talk to. No awkward questions. No trying to understand what people are saying.”
Caleb grimaced. “He thought so too, but when his bosses learned that he was hard of hearing instead of profoundly Deaf, they kept trying to put him on the cash register.”
“But…” Bodhi’s hand hovered in the air, then he gestured to his eyes.
Caleb nodded, letting out a huff of air as he walked over and dropped to the sofa cushion. It no longer felt like the pariah of his apartment, even if he could remember with far too much clarity the way Cameron had fucked him over the arm. It was one of the few times he’d actually felt passion between them, but Cameron had been drunk from a work party. None of it had been genuine.
“That’s why he quit,” Caleb said, then gestured to the couch. “Do you want to sit?”
Bodhi looked torn, his fingers twisting together before he squared his shoulders and shook his head. “Is it okay if I stand? I’m having a hard time being still.”
Caleb waved a hand at him. “Whatever makes you happy.”
“It’s not to be happy,” Bodhi said, then his cheeks darkened. “Sorry. You didn’t mean that literally, did you?”
Caleb laughed and shook his head. “No.” He stood up and walked over, leaning against the arm of the couch so Bodhi wasn’t the only one standing. Caleb felt a compulsion to be near the younger man, and it was almost impossible to ignore.
“Sorry,” Bodhi started again, but Caleb’s hand darted out and he curled fingers around his wrist, squeezing hard. Bodhi’s lips parted and a rush of air blew past Caleb’s cheeks. He squeezed again, and Bodhi’s shoulders relaxed.
“You don’t have to keep apologizing for being yourself,” Caleb told him once he drew his hand away.
Bodhi gave him a slightly flat look. “You don’t like when I’m myself. Most people don’t. And you invited me into your house, so I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Caleb looked down at his feet, taking a short breath to calm himself down. He was struggling with the capacity to feel any worse than he already did. It didn’t matter that what Bodhi was saying was both blunt and fair—two things Caleb counted on from his friends.
He was feeling tender.
He looked up when Bodhi touched his arm. “I don’t mind.”
“I do,” Caleb said. “All I can do right now is promise that I’m going to do everything I can not to let all this,” he waved his hand around at the living room, “turn me into someone I don’t want to be.”
Bodhi bit his lip, then asked, “Do you want another hug?”
Caleb laughed softly, opening his arms, and squeezed them around Bodhi tight. His life felt like it was in absolute chaos, and he didn’t know how it was possible for this one man to understand exactly what he needed when he didn’t know himself.
Chapter7
Bodhi didn’t really knowwhat to make of that afternoon. The first hug had been an impulse and he’d expected Caleb to tell him to fuck off. The second one had been bold and daring because he couldn’t stop thinking about how Caleb had known to hug him so tight, he almost lost his breath.
It was the only kind of touch Bodhi really liked, and it was the kind of touch most people were afraid to give him. But after his initial apology, Caleb didn’t hesitate giving him physical contact. When he took Bodhi’s wrist, he squeezed. When he wrapped his arms around him the second time, he held on so tight, Bodhi felt like he could get lost in the embrace for the rest of his life.
He was still reeling from earlier—from the way Caleb had slammed his hands down on the desk and sent Bodhi to the dark, ugly place in his mind. It was a little box he kept for all the things he didn’t want to deal with, and every so often, someone nudged the lid off.
Logically, he understood none of it was really Caleb’s fault. He was clearly still dealing with the pain of his breakup, and he knew the day had only made it worse. Bodhi had come in just in time to see Caleb get drenched by the leak in the ceiling, and he’d gotten a glimpse of the customers in the front while Wren was kicking them out.
But he was still feeling a little shaky from the way Caleb had lost his temper. Bodhi was good at compartmentalizing, but he knew better than to think it would last.
Once the two of them got settled, Caleb ordered take out and seemed perfectly content to let Bodhi pace the living room while they waited. He put TV on—some reality show about people buying and flipping houses—and he was polite enough not to stare as Bodhi moved from one end of the room to the other.
Mostly, Caleb stayed on his phone. He looked exhausted, though no less gorgeous with the wrinkle of concentration between his brows and the way his tongue would peek out and drag across his lower lip. Bodhi found himself obsessing about Caleb’s long fingers for a while, and the sharp black ink of his tattoos that stood in contrast to his pale skin.
He found himself wanting to sit close to him, to touch him, and breathe in his scent, and taste the salt of his skin.
Bodhi was virtually untouched—a single date that hadn’t gone very well when he was nineteen didn’t really count. He’d gotten a kiss and the guy had groped his ass, but Bodhi had panicked because it was all moving fast, and then the asshole had laughed in his face when Bodhi asked him to slow down.
