His eyebrows draw together. “Yes?”
I’m not sure why I keep being so surprised by Austin. He’s not doing anything besides what he’s always done. He hasn’t changed a bit, but I have. I’m a fundamentally different person than I used to be, and I don’t know how to handle this.
Mostly because as much as I want to trust it and trust his kindness, I’m struggling. I’ve never struggled to trust Austin. Never. And up until now, even, I haven’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I offer him a smile and slip past him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me with my heart in my throat and my stomach doing violent flips.
Chapter 15
Austin
WhenLucacomesoutof the bedroom half an hour later, I have toast and syrup ready for him and the next episode ofMasterChefqueued up on the TV.
His steps are tentative as he makes his way across the living room and sits down next to me. I’m not sure what’s going on with him tonight, but I didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable.
“Here.” As soon as he sits down beside me, I hand him the plate. He takes it slowly, then sits back on the couch. “Get comfy.”
He cuts a piece off his toast and takes a bite, studying me for a second. I won’t make him do something he doesn’t want. Absolutely fuck that, but I do want him to be able to relax. “Sit back against the arm and put yourfeet up here.”
He rolls his eyes with a huffed laugh but finally does what I’ve asked, placing his feet across my thighs close to my knees. “This is good.”
“I haven’t even started rubbing them yet,” I tease, smiling when he laughs.
“The toast.”
Grabbing the remote, I hit play, then toss the remote to the side to start rubbing his feet. It’s not anything I have to think too hard about, and I find myself zoning out as I work my thumbs along his ankle and down to the heel and then the arch of his foot. I go between the two, making sure to keep my touch on the heavy side. I can’t be too light. God forbid I accidentally tickle him.
I got kicked in the side once for that when I was twelve, and I’m not in a hurry to experience a repeat.
I’m lost in my task, watching the home chef on TV burn their pastry, when a soft groan catches my attention. I make a valiant effort to ignore it, focusing harder on the TV when it happens again.
My heart races, my blood boiling in my veins. God, that sound should not be affecting me this way. It’s not like there’s anything overtly sexual happening, but my brain—and more specifically, my dick—doesn’t seem to understand that.
“I’m gonna grab a drink,” I say, carefully pushing Luca’s feet off my lap. “Do you want anything?”
“I’ll take a glass of water, please.”
I nod, not even daring to glance in Luca’s direction, and nearly bolt from the couch in my hurry to get to the kitchen and away from him. This isn’t like me at all, and I need to get my head on straight. Luca deserves better than this.
After filling two glasses with water, I take a deep breath and sitback down beside him, handing his drink to him.
I shouldn’t—I know I shouldn’t—but I watch Luca take a sip. Watch the way his throat bobs with the swallow, watch the way a bead of water clings to his lower lip, and watch the way his tongue swipes it away. My gut tightens, my eyes glued to the spot.
Okay, what in the hell is happening to me today? I think I need to get out of town, go find a hookup or something. I clear my throat, dragging my eyes away from Luca. “I’m thinking about going out Saturday night.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s been a while, you know?” I sound like a teenager who has no control over his own libido.
“Sure,” Luca says with a chuckle. “I get it. Too busy taking care of me to get laid. Too small of a house to get off with me here. I can always leave for the day too if you want. I can hang out with Arlo.”
Ugh. I want that even less. “No, it’s alright. Can I ask you something?”
Fear flashes through Luca’s eyes, and my breath leaves me in a quick rush. “Yes.” The tremor in his voice is impossible to miss.
“Did my ma try to set you up with Arlo?”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Luca bursts out laughing. “Yeah, actually. That was definitely the vibe I got. ‘Oh, you two boys would just get along so well,’” Luca says, mimicking my mom’s accent. He shrugs. “I’m not interested, though. Never dating again, remember?”
