Page 13 of They Were Roommates

“God, we need some better coffee shops around here,” Delia griped as they all struggled to choke down the bland and somehow still burnt coffee.

“Seriously. I feel like it’s all chains, or tiny shops with not enough room for even one table,” Gregory agreed.

Diego got a thoughtful look on his face, but didn’t comment and the topic shifted to summer plans. After lunch, as they strolled leisurely to their mutual bus stop, Frankie tried to work up the nerve to ask Diego what his future plans were, but Diego beat him to the punch.

“I want to open a queer cafe,” Diego said matter-of-factly. Frankie jerked to a stop, and Diego crashed into him.

Electricity shot up and down Frankie’s back where their bodies touched. Due to their height difference, Diego’s crotch was just below Frankie’s ass. For just a heartbeat he allowed himself to imagine bending his knees like he did when dancing, and pressing back into Diego’s warmth. The biggest thing his endless hours of video chatting with Diego had been lacking was the delicious contact they always shared when studying together at Diego’s place. His favorite was when Diego would throw his legs up over Frankie’s lap like he belonged there.

Diego steadied himself by grabbing Frankie’s waist, and that rough grip immediately became his new favorite Diego touch.

Frankie shook his head at how ridiculous he was being. He could be touchedanywhere, byanyonehe wanted with a simple swipe on Grindr, or a text to an old fling. He didn’t need to be fantasizing about what else Diego’s strong hands could do, what his muscular chest would look like over a year and a half after his surgery or what the rest of him would look like.

“Am I to take your sudden screeching halt and following silence as disapproval?” Diego asked warily.

Frankie spun around to face him and his breath caught in his chest. Diego wassoattractive. Somehow, he seemed even more ruggedly handsome than he had when they’d last spoken on video chat, which could only have been three weeks prior.

His beard had finally filled out sometime during the winter, and while he was trimming it close to his face for the warmer weather, it still made Frankie want to run his fingers, and possibly his tongue, over it.

Fuck. He needed to get laid. Tonight. He’d have to make sure the guy or gal didn’t bring any peanuts, dust, or mold into the house. On second thought, maybe he’d just have them strip at the door. He could give Seth a heads up that there would be a naked person in their house. Maybe he should get a clean robe or something to keep on hand in case he ever had hookups stay the night? That way they could drink their coffee on the couch without rubbing their naked butt cheeks all over it.

Okay, bad mental image to have while staring into Diego’s admittedly annoyed looking face.

“Would you believe it was such a good idea that I’m speechless?” Frankie asked. Diego rolled his eyes.

“Coma mierda,” Diego grumbled.

Well, that didn’t sound like a good thing. He was pretty surecomahad something to do with eating… and didmierdamean shit?

“I’m sorry, did you just tell me to eat shit?” Frankie asked.

Diego blinked at him for a moment and then burst out laughing, a warm, velvety sound that Frankie didn’t get to hear often enough.

“No! Well… I guess it translates to that, but it means you’re bullshiting me, which you so clearly are, so just tell me what you’re thinking,” Diego teased, but his voice was fond and his eyes were dancing with joy.

Frankie rolled his eyes. “I don’t know exactly what I’m thinking, that’s why I didn’t say anything yet,” Frankie admitted honestly.

Diego raised an eyebrow, and Frankie was once again lost in his friend’s handsome face.

Diego waved his hand in Frankie’s face and Frankie jerked his head to the side, accidentally moving closer not farther away from Diego. They ended up just a few inches apart, so close Frankie could smell the shitty coffee on Diego’s breath.

“Ahh,mi cielo, tienes tu cabeza en las nubes,”Diego murmured softly, and when Frankie cocked his head inquisitively, Diego’s eyes widened, and his cheeks warmed.

“It is… another endearment. It translates to ‘my sky,’ so I said in essence my sky has his head in the clouds.”

“And you still don’t want me to call you a cabbage? I’m pretty sure you just called me an airhead.” To be precise, Diego had called Frankiehisairhead, and he found he didn’t mind that nearly as much.

“Unless you’re implying I’m multifaceted with many complex layers, I think I’d rather not be a stinky, cruciferous vegetable.”

Frankie couldn’t hold back his laughter. “Who the hell says cruciferous?”

It was Diego’s turn to smirk, which up close, revealed his perfectly straight teeth. Frankie had never thought about this before, but it definitely implied he’d had braces as a kid. Either his parents had cared about him, or cared a lot about appearances. Sadly, Frankie thought he could guess which one it was.

“It’s a means of classifying vegetables. There are cruciferous, leafy greens, marrow—”

“Like bone marrow?”

“No, like pumpkins, squash, and zucchini. Don’t interrupt. Then there are root, stem, allium—”

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