“A lot of reasons. Because you felt for me after Lucas…did what he had to do. Because you worry so much about what others think about you. Because you embarrass easily, get flustered easily, you love being touched, being praised.” Those were all true, but it wasn’t the real reason he thought Thomas had gotten it wrong. “But mostly, I believe it because I’m pretty sure you’re in love with me.”
Jericho swore he could see Atticus’s pulse fluttering in his throat. He flicked his tongue out to lick over his lower lip. “Pretty sure?”
Jericho shrugged. “It could just be wishful thinking.”
“You want me to be in love with you?” Atticus asked, suspicious.
Jericho should have known Atticus would never put himself out there like that. “I mean, I’d hate to think I’m in this alone.”
Atticus’s breath left him in a whoosh, like it had been punched from his lungs. “You…love me?”
Jericho shook his head. “Was there ever a doubt?”
Atticus made a face. “It was all doubt. I thought you just liked having sex with me.”
Jericho kissed him again, his hand sliding down Atticus’s chest to palm over his cock. “To be clear, Freckles. Ilovehaving sex with you, to the point of distraction.”
A fist pounded on the window, forcing them to jump back guiltily. Asa and Avi stood outside the window, laughing. “Get a room,” Asa said, voice muffled through the glass.
“Yeah, nobody wants to see that.”
Atticus flipped him off. Asa pretended to catch it and put it in his pocket before returning the gesture. Then they were gone.
“I don’t think you have to worry about your brothers not liking you,” Jericho assured him. “That’s pretty sibling-like behavior. Brothers are assholes.”
“Speaking of, can we go back to your place?”
Jericho frowned. “Yeah, why?”
“I need to talk to Felix.”
Jericho tried to put the pieces together as to why Atticus would deliberately put himself back in Felix’s crosshairs. “Why do you want to poke that particular bear?”
Atticus looked slightly smug. “Because I’ve finally figured out a way to get him to like me.”
Jericho snorted at Atticus’s bravado. “That’s a tall order, Freckles. How exactly do you intend to melt my brother’s icy heart?”
Atticus grinned, looking smug. “I’m going to bribe him.”
Jericho opened his mouth, then closed it again. Felix was very emotional. And vain. And jealous. And lethal. But above all that, he was spoiled. “Well, shit. I…I think that might work. Let’s go find out.”
It was a full house at Jericho’s place. There were at least eight boys crammed onto the sectional sofa at the back of the shop. They screamed at the television, gesturing wildly, nudging each other, sometimes violently. They all had their backs to Atticus, not that he’d be able to put names to faces, anyway. Some of them were total strangers.
Atticus did recognize two of them. The blue-haired boy, Arsen, and Felix, who stood out in every crowd. He sat perched on the back of the couch, wearing the same threadbare cardigan, one delicate shoulder artfully exposed. If Atticus had to guess, he’d say the way the sweater dangled was by choice. Everything Felix did seemed deliberate. He’d pulled half his thick chestnut hair off his face in a half ponytail. Very few people could pull off that look, but he did.
Jericho ignored the melee, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “See you upstairs, Freckles. Good luck.” Atticus watched him ascend the stairs, admiring the way his jeans hugged his ass.
Atticus stayed behind, watching Felix play a game that involved a dozen men in fatigues running through a barren wasteland. It only took a moment or two before Felix seemed to feel the weight of Atticus’s eyes on him. He turned to glower at him with daggers in his eyes.
When Atticus didn’t immediately disengage, an eerie calm settled over the boy’s face, and he tilted his head in a way that would have probably unsettled somebody who didn’t grow up in a house full of psychopaths. He handed the controller to the boy beside him, slipping over the back of the couch with a grace few could manage.
Felix moved like a dancer, each movement fluid and deliberate, like a snake winding closer. Beneath the oversized cardigan, he wore a cropped t-shirt with a Nike logo and a black skirt that swept to his ankles. Nothing about that outfit should have worked, yet it suited Felix perfectly.
When he was close enough to be heard over the noise, he arched one perfectly manicured brow. “Can I help you?”
Atticus leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “I was hoping we could help each other.”
Felix scrunched his face into a look of utter revulsion. “Please tell me you’re not propositioning me with my brother right upstairs?”
