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The padlock is a stubborn bastard but gives way after ten hard whacks. Opening up the box, I want to keep the system manageable, and I turn on the two fuses marked house and garage, and I’m instantly met with lights. The fire keeps us warm, and I won’t turn on the heat, with the thermostat inside. No reason to push our luck, and maybe blow a fuse. I look for the one that controls the stove and fridge and push that specific fuse up.
I take out my phone from my pocket to check the signal, and there’s none. Well, for now, we’ll celebrate the small wins, and a warm meal. If it’s simply a can of beans, it’s still a win for me.
* * *
The snores are no more.However, he’s still cuddled into a ball in the middle of the bed. How can someone as huge as Clark curl into a ball?
There are a few cans of tomatoes. Mrs. Rogers made us this dish she called Hoppin’ John. It was simple and so good. And though we have no sausage for our meal, I remember it was good with canned tomatoes and beans. Beans will be enough to fill our stomachs, considering the only thing we’ve eaten in twenty-four hours is energy bars.
I heat a pan with two cans of black beans and two cans of diced tomatoes. I find some garlic, salt, and red pepper flakes. It’s funny, with the five-star dinners I’ve enjoyed through the years, Mrs. Rogers’ Hoppin’ John still had to have been one of my favorite meals ever.
“Xan?” The sleepy voice of Clark calls out to me. “What smells so good?”
His voice is that of appreciation, as both our stomachs require something of substance.
“There are several cans of beans, tuna, and diced tomatoes. So, I guess you’d say I’m making a meatless chili.” I won’t explain the simple dish I loved when I was allowed to visit Devin Rogers during the day, and we didn’t have to sneak around. “Don’t get up. Rest your ankle. I’ll bring it to you.”
He stands just enough to stoke the fire. “Shit, I just realized you have the power on.”
His pitch makes me think he’s unhappy with this turn of events. “Is there something wrong with that?” I ask.
He clears his throat again. “No, not at all. And, thanks.” He continues to push the logs around in the fire and it gives us warmth against the harsh weather outside.
After washing a couple bowls, because who the fuck knows what creepy crawlers have made their homes in them, I scoop up some early dinner for us. I have the foresight to prop up some pillows for Clark. “Have a seat,” I order, with the dominance I’ve had with everyone at my beck and call for most of my life, giving me the idea that I have authority over others. “Let’s prop up your leg.”
He pushes himself back, wincing at the pain he uses on his ankle from the bottom of the mattress to get to the top.
“I can take care of myself, Lynol.”
Clark seldom calls me by my last name, it’s always Xan to get under my skin, but now, I actually enjoy him using the shortened version of it.
Maybe he realizes this and wants to continue to piss me off. I’m in front of him, our dinner on an end table near the bed.
“No, you can’t. Not right now, when you’re hurt and dizzy, and it’s okay, Clark. Let me help you.”
He pushes off the bed. This time, the wince doesn’t stop him, and he’s in my face, forcing me near the closest wall.
Clark Farmer was everything I hated, so why does my cock react to his touch, the smile that typically covers his face, and the way his muscles flex when he pushes me against the wall?
“We aren’t friends, Xander Lynol. You made my life a living hell, and for what? I got picked first in Red Light, Green Light when we were eight. Do you think one day of being civil will make me forget it all?”
My eyes don’t leave his. There’s more than hate in them. “I can be more than your enemy, Clark. You said the same thing earlier. We don’t have to hate one another. If anything, this weekend has proven we make a good team.”
“A good team, my ass. This doesn’t change things between us.” I pull him closer, and as his lips hover over mine, he pushes off my body.
“Fuck, Xan. I may have fallen for men, but it will never be you.” He stands closer to me again, waiting for my response.
“Tell that to your cock, which happens to be closer to me than your own body. He knows what he wants.” His face adjusts to his raging boner.
“Believe me, it means nothing, Lynol, so go fuck off.” He hobbles back to the couch and grabs his beans. “I’d rather eat this in an empty room than next to you, asshole.”
I allow for his tantrum when he takes his dinner to one of the two bedrooms, with only lumber filling the space. I’ll let him cool off, only to remind him of his desires later. And it will be later because, as I’ve discovered in the past day, there’s a thin line between love and hate.
16
CLARK
He’s gone when I return with an empty bowl of the best beans I’ve ever eaten. It may be because my last substantial meal was yesterday.
