Frowning, Calvin turns away from him and buries his face in his pillow. “Let me sleep more,” he mumbles.
“Theo’s here.”
He’s silent for so long that Miles wonders if he actually heard him. Calvin sits up, and Miles swallows—not the time to stare at his chest, his abs, his narrow waist. So much for his grand plan of eating breakfast in bed, and then putting his mouth all over Calvin’s skin.
“Theo’s here,” Calvin repeats, his tone dry.
“Yep.”
“Give me a minute.”
Groaning, Calvin gets up. He pulls his boxers on and Miles couldn’t be more disappointed. Calvin disappears into the bathroom, and minutes later comes back out with his face still wet. Calvin scowls and yanks the closet door open, then he pauses and glances at Miles. “Are those my clothes?”
“Yeah.”
His scowl melts into something much softer as he pulls on his clothes.
Miles grins at him. “Theo said he hasn’t heard from you at all and is worried you’re knocked out cold.”
“For fuck’s sake.” His scowl is back. “I’m so sorry.”
”Sorry for what? You’re fine.”
“Miles.”
Miles ignores him. There’s a ringing in his head as he holds the door open for Calvin. They don’t say anything as they head down.
“Cal!” calls Theo as soon as he spots him. “You got me so fucking worried. I need to talkto you.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I—listen, let’s go sit.” Theo gestures toward the lounge, which unfortunately is not as empty as before.
“Your fans are waking up,” Miles says, pointing a thumb toward a small group of girls who are whispering to themselves and giving both Calvin and Theo excited looks. “Better go somewhere else if you don’t want a whole thing.”
“Let’s go to your room,” Theo tells Calvin.
“No.” Calvin doesn’t say anything else, just glares at Theo in clear anger.
If Calvin ever stared at Miles like that, he’d wither away and die.
“You can use our office,” Miles suggests. He’d rather not have the two of them out here in the lobby. He can’t handle people taking photos ofTheowith Calvin in his own inn.
“Miles,” Calvin sighs.
Theo turns to Miles. “That would be great!”
He leads them down the hallway behind the front desk, taking them to the small empty office. Miles yanks the curtains open as he wills down the frustration simmering in him.
Theo gestures for Calvin to take a seat, but he doesn’t budge. Sighing, Theo stays standing, as well. He says to Miles, “Could we get fruit juice? Do you have that? Cal loves fruit juice in the morning.”
Calvin’s expression twists. “Miles isn’t your wait—”
“You got it,” Miles says, giving them an awkward thumbs up. Calvin’s right, he’s technically not part of the wait-staff, at least not right now. It’s fine, though.
He says it’s fine, but when he steps out of the office, he scrubs a hand over his face and stifles a groan.
When he comes back holding a tray with two glasses of juice on it, the two are still standing. Calvin’s hands are in his pockets, his lips are pursed, his entire body stiff, and his eyes are shifting all over the place.
