“Meeting over?” Cree asked.
“Yeah, we’re done.”
Arsen and Levi slid down to sit between Felix and Nico, already reaching for the controllers. Arsen looked to those still standing. “You staying?”
The three exchanged glances, then shrugged.
“Sure,” Cree said, taking a seat on the ground in front of the others. Felix handed him his controller and began to section off pieces of the boy’s hair, working it into an intricate braid. Cree was very protective of his hair, but, somehow, Felix was the exception to the rule.
Seven snagged the controller from Nico, shoving himself between him and Arsen. “You staying, man?” he asked, looking at Jericho expectantly.
“No, I have a date. I probably won’t be home tonight. Make sure you lock up when you leave. I’ll be back before the shop opens.”
Felix shot him a sullen look, but Jericho ignored him, jogging upstairs to shower and scrub the grease and dirt off before he headed over to see Atticus. He tried to ignore the shock of awareness that shot through him at the thought. There was just something about him. Part of Jericho couldn’t help but wonder if he had the same effect on Atticus.
As he scrubbed himself, his mind raced. Why did he care if he had the same effect on Atticus? Could he even have those feelings for anybody? Did Jericho want to…date Atticus? Dating seemed such a weak word for something that stemmed from death and exploded in passion every time they were within two feet of each other. Jericho wanted to own Atticus. To keep him. To protect him. He wanted to be his safe place to land. Wanted Atticus to be as vulnerable out of the bedroom as he was inside it.
* * *
Jericho saw Atticus’s building four blocks before he arrived. There was no missing the towering complex or the palm trees jutting from the top, which indicated there was a rooftop pool. When Jericho pulled into the valet, a kid of about twenty jogged over in a white uniform with gold accents. He gaped at the vehicle as he took the keys.
“Did you restore this yourself?” he asked.
“Yeah, took a while to run down all the parts.”
The kid whistled. “This is an ‘88 Eddie Bauer edition, right?”
“You know your cars, kid,” Jericho said, impressed.
“Yeah, my dad was big into vintage American cars. All we ever get around here is a bunch of overpriced junk. This is a classic,” he said reverently. “Are you a collector?”
Jericho laughed. “Me? No. I’m a mechanic. When I found it, it was a mess. I wasn’t sure it would ever see the road.”
The kid frowned. “What are you doing here? Like, isn’t this place a little…bougie for you?”
“I’m visiting a friend. Atticus Mulvaney.”
The kid winced. “Oh, yeah. He’s…intense.”
Jericho barked out a laugh loud enough to attract the attention of the other valet. “You’re not wrong about that.” He clapped the kid on the back. “Keep her safe for me.”
“Yeah, definitely.”
Jericho walked past the desk attendant, who was on the phone and didn’t seem overly concerned about whether he belonged in the building, though she did give his jeans and t-shirt a once over as he hit the button for the elevator.
On the way up, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Atticus terrorizing the staff with his prickly attitude. He was just dying for somebody to put him in his place. Jericho definitely felt like he was the man for the job.
Atticus lived on the top floor. The elevator spit him out into a small room with only a single set of double doors. Did he have the entire floor to himself? Jericho wouldn’t doubt it. He was old money rich.
He rang the doorbell and then stepped back slightly. Did Atticus think of this as a date? Were they doing dinner? Were they staying at his place? Technically, he was still in the closet, swearing that this was just a phase, that he wasn’t gay. Jericho had been gay for a long time, and what they were doing felt pretty fucking gay, but he wasn’t going to force Atticus out of the closet if he wasn’t ready.
When five or so minutes went by and Atticus didn’t answer, Jericho lifted his arm to ring the doorbell once again, startled when the door swung open. Atticus stood in a towel, his dark auburn hair standing up in wet spikes, like he’d just come from the shower. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice his body was completely dry.
“You’re early,” Atticus grumbled.
Jericho raked his gaze over Atticus, from his pink face to his flushed torso, until his eyes snagged on his obvious erection tenting the cotton fabric around his waist. Jericho smirked. “Looks like I’m right on time, Freckles.”
Before Atticus could formulate some kind of argument, Jericho pressed him back against the open door, capturing his mouth in a filthy kiss as he tugged the towel from his clenched fingers.
