Er, what? This is not having the intended affect.
“Nothing,” I say, backtracking, trying to figure out what I’d said to set him off. I look down at what I’m wearing—gay casual, the uszh—and I wonder if it’s my rainbow Care Bear T-shirt that has him all flustered. Did I find the one homophobic asshole in all of Austin?Say it isn’t so.
I stutter, tryingto come up with something quick. “I-I just meant that you’re so big and strong that you’d be able to carry out the pizzas without my help. But I’m happy to help, promise.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you meant,Rolando. You never fucking change, do you?”
My eyes snap to his. Fathomless green. The kind of green you could get lost in. The kind of green that…shit. Belongs to one of the strongest defensive ends my high school had ever seen. Though, that was mumble, mumble years ago. Certainly not…
“Heavy?” I ask, breathless as the nickname for my OG bear crush trips off my tongue.
In school he was six foot or so and mostly muscle with a bit of soft belly. Now he’s a smidge taller and even more deliciously muscled, his whole look a mixture of refined and rugged, a guy with enough money for a sharp haircut who also enjoys the great outdoors, if his tanned, veiny arms and strong legs are any indication.
His thick, reddish-brown beard, groomed but not overly fussed over, adds a whole ’nother layer of sexy, and, to my absolute delight, he still has that gorgeous, soft middle. If the hair on his arms is any indication, he’s furry as fuck, and a little drool pools under my tongue. I vaguely remember something about him being bi or maybe pan? Which would be awesome because, mad as he is, the familiar desire to melt into that big body of his comes roaring back, with several years of interest.
As I’m admiring him, his chin drops to his chest, the red on his face deepening. “I love Scout and Jean-Pierre to death, but I don’t know why I thought I could invest with them and still avoid you. Should’ve known this shit was bound to happen—I’d run into you, and you’d be that same shitty asshole.”
Wait, what?
“Hngna?” Eloquence, thy name is Roly.
Midway through chiding myself for being a blithering idiot, I realize that he’s not just mad, he’s mad atme. What in the gay hell? Peopleloveme. I’m the shit, the best friend, the go-to person. I continue to gape like an oxygen-starved fish, which seems to have set him off even more.
“B’why?” I inarticulately ask.
“No need to keep shoving how fat I am in my face. I’m sure you think it’s fucking hilarious that I got even fatter. Just—fuck it. Give me the damned pies.”
Holy shit. AmIthe one who made him self-conscious about all of that gorgeous weight? Oh, god.High school me was such an asshole.This is terrible, and not just because he’s mad and jumping toallof the wrong conclusions. If he partners with Scout and Jean-Pierre, he’ll be an investor in the pizza shop, Scout’s condo development,and the gym.
Ohhhh…say something, you idiot.
“Wasn’t saying anything about your weight, super promise. I just… you’re so strong, you could carry them one-handed.”
“Whatever. I don’t have time for this.”
It’s all I can do to not leap into his arms and promise to make it better. Though, I’m sure his wife wouldn’t approve.
But no, that’s wrong. He’s not married anymore.
Oh my god.
He’s the bi-bear Jean-Pierre told me about.Fuckity-fuck. I had plans for him, and now I’ve gone and made him mad and… possibly hurt all of our family businesses in one fell swoop.
I push the boxes and boxes of pizza to him, cursing my stupid mouth. I wanna stop standing here like I’m glued to the floor, right along with my tongue. I’m so beside myself I can’t even.
Quick, how do I fix it?
“I am so sorry for the way I treated you back then. You don’t have any reason to believe me, but I’m not that same person. I mean, I am, sorta? But,” I say, gesturing to my T-shirt, which has a pink bear with a rainbow on its belly, “my nickname is Bear Killer, if that gives you any—”
His glare turns the words to ash in my mouth, and he grabs the first stack of pizzas, yanking open the door so violently that the bell nearly rings off its hook. I watch him walk to his SUV—which has winged doors for Christ’s sake—shove the pizzas into the back seat, and come stomping back into the shop for the second stack. Shit. I should have helped him out.
“Heavy…”
Growling, he cuts me off again. “Heath. My name isHeath.”
* * *
Heath
