AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Anthony nods in understanding. He knows better than most that there is always someone better out there to take your place. “I like the quiet one. Vasel.”
I raise my eyebrows, surprised. Vasel, a German exchange student, is about as exciting as white bread. “Quiet” is the exact right way to describe him—last week, I frequently forgot he was one the ice, so silent was he.How the hell did he manage to impress Anthony after only two days?
“Why?”
“He’s intuitive.”
“And timid,” I counter. Anthony shrugs, his mouth twisted and his eyes sayingso what?
“You can train away timidity. You can’t teach intuition though, and he’s got it in spades. He’s malleable and everyone likes him, so he’ll perform well no matter who you pair him with.”
“And I imagine you have ideas of who to pair him with?”
“Not yet. But give me a few days.” He smiles, and I have half a mind to return it. He checks his phone. “Food’s almost here. I’ll meet them outside and bring it back here.”
Hopping up, he scoots between the desks and heads for the door. In a fit of madness, I call him back before he can turn the corner into the hallway. “I’ll come with you. We can take the food back to my place.”
The look this earns me is lascivious and I choose to ignore it. I don’t know what game he’s playing. I’ve been out of practice with dating, and I’m not confident in my ability to recognize real flirting versus…whatever it is Anthony is doing. As usual, he refuses to lead and walks directly beside me as we exit the building. I step away from him as soon as we hit the sidewalk; he follows, brushing his arm back up against mine.
The kid who delivers our food nearly wets himself at the sight of Anthony. There is so much food it takes every hand between the two of us to carry it back to my place, and there is a tantalizing waft of Indian cuisine as we walk. Interesting choice, but a good one. Apparently, he wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t follow his nutrition plan.
I let Anthony precede me through the door and watch, mutely, as he carefully removes his shoes and places them by the door. His socks are mismatched again. He doesn’t wait for me, but strolls confidently toward the kitchen, like this isn’t only the second time he’s been here. I don’t know whether to be bothered or charmed. By the time I join him, he’s got to-go containers spread out on the kitchen counter and is waiting for me to point him in the direction of plates and flatware. Looking at the food spread, one would think we were having a party.
When I go to move past Anthony, in the direction of the refrigerator, I place an unthinking hand on his hip. He leans into the touch and I pull away hastily. This close, I can smell sandalwood on his skin, even over the smell of Indian food.
“What will you have to drink?” I ask, ignoring the urge to bury my nose in his neck and inhale.
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
Tea it is.I move around him as best I can in the tight space, and prepare two mugs. He waits until I’m finished, before silently handing me one of my own plates and waiting for me to get my food first. I dim the lights, wanting to give my eyes a break after a day spent in harsh lighting, and then immediately regret it. I hope he doesn’t confuse the move for a romantic gesture.
“Mood lighting,” he comments, and I scowl at him. So much for that.
Beneath the table, he kicks his legs out until they are pressed against mine. I eye him over my plate, uneasy. He told me, just yesterday, that he was straight. Either he was lying, or he’s fucking with me. I try to move my legs, sitting at an angle. He follows, resting his lower legs against mine, and I give up. Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.
Anthony
I really have no idea what I’m doing. I feel like a marionette, my limbs operating completely outside of my control. All I know is, there is something about Nico that draws me to him; I’m craving contact, seeking out his body with single-minded intensity. I know I need to tone it down, but I can’t. Jesus, but I fuckingwanthim.
“When’s your birthday?” I ask, enjoying the heat of his calf. I wish our pants weren’t in the way—I want to know how his leg hair feels when it catches against my own. Nico stares at me like I asked him for his opinion on assisted suicide.
“Why do you want to know that, Anthony?” He sounds exhausted, like dealing with me is more taxing than working with the college kids.
“So that I know when to bring you a present.”
Nico stares at me for so long, I wonder if he fell asleep with his eyes open. “I don’t want a present.”
“If anyone in the world needs a present on their birthday, it’s you.” I point my fork at him. He ducks his head to eat, but more than once I see his eyes flick back up to my face. I wait. When it seems like he’s not going to answer the question, I open my mouth to ask another.
“October 31st,” he mutters, speaking directly to his plate.
“Halloween baby! Cool.”
“Quite fitting, actually. I’m well suited for the holiday, now.” His mouth tries to shape itself into a semblance of a smile, and he waves fingers in the direction of his face. Frowning, I look at him.Reallylook at him. At the dusting of light brown scruff on his jaw, and the slightly crooked nose; at the perfectly styled hair and heavy brows over lovely, clear green eyes. I look at hislips, and the long column of his throat. His scars are the least interesting part of his face.
“I like your face,” I tell him, decisively. He sits back in his chair, silently weighing my words. I feel like I’ve been pretty obvious in my flirting today, but maybe not. “I don’t know why, since you’re a disagreeable sort of bastard, but I like you. Maybe…maybe we could do dinner again sometime, but as an actual date.”
“You told me yesterday that you were straight.”
