I turn, quietly preparing myself. I haven’t stopped thinking about last night, and wondering how things will be different when I see him now, at work again, when we’re going back to our routine. Nothing feels normal. Nothing will ever be the way it was again.
Leo’s face is ridiculously handsome. It always has been, and I’ve never been oblivious to that. I’ve just consciously ignored it and never allowed myself to dwell on it. But now thathe’s leaning against the door in front of me, tall and broad shouldered, with such smooth olive skin and hazel eyes that are smouldering at me, it’s hard to remember why I ever thought about anything else.
“Creme brulee,” I mumble. “There’s plenty left.”
“Dibs.” And now I’m noticing the way his muscles stretch and the way his Turn It Up band t-shirt lifts as he reaches up to the top shelf of the mug cupboard. Leo really goes for it when he works out, that much is clear. And so much of the ink on his skin was put there by me.
I feel an erotic shiver as I consider that, and remember running my tattoo needles over his body. I enjoyed the view back then, sure, but he was just Leo, just my pal. Now… He has me so keyed up, I’m not sure I could ink a straight line on him if my life depended on it.
“Y’alright, Pumpkin?”Pumpkin.He’s called me that so many times, and it’s never sounded so different before. Intimate, almost.
“Yeah. Fine. You?” So now I’m monosyllabic. Great.
He smirks, but it’s warm, not snarky. Not like when I do it. “All good in the hood,” he teases, loading up the coffee machine. He let me buy it a couple of years ago out of petty cash because I run on coffee, and he said it was an investment to keep one of his tattoo machines running smoothly. I called him a jackass. But now…it’s like he was giving me a gift without me knowing that’s what he was doing, and the thought makes me bite my lip. How many other acts of kindness, of…love…have I put down to friendship, to his baseline generosity that he shows everyone?
Absently, he kisses the top of my head. “Chill,” he murmurs, “it’s all gonna be OK.”
Leo always knows when I need a kind word, and he never fails to deliver. Even now. And I can’t deny that he always makes me feel better just by being there.
I give him an uncharacteristically shy smile, because I have no idea what to say with all these thoughts coursing through me and complicating my already jarred feelings. It’s easier to head out, sipping my latte so I have an excuse not to talk. I have some serious untangling to do, and not a clue how to begin. But drawing on people with a needle always takes me to that wonderfully clear headed, zen space in my head, and I need that now more than ever.
Bring on the appointments.
Sadie: Bro… [wide eyed emoji]
Tim: Rough morning?
Sadie: No, just confusing
Tim: Leo?
Sadie: Yep
Tim: Sorry, but I have to ask. Did you really not know?
My temper flaresas I read my twin’s latest message. When I told him what went down last night, he wasn’t in the least surprised, and I hate that. I hate that everyone was in in some we-all-know-and-Sadie-has-no-fucking-clue club. I hate thatno-onesaw fit to tell me, and shut me out of something that was basically only my business. I hate feeling this stupid.
And, while I can sort of maybe just about understand the Wishbone gang choosing to keep Leo’s confidence out of loyalty to him, I can’t help wondering where Tim’s loyalty tomewas in this whole situation. Why he didn’t see fit to take me to one side and say,hey, you know what? Leo thinks you’re crazy hot. You might want to think about that.
Tim: No judgement, just curious. I’ve seen you two together.
I bite my lip. I know Tim doesn’t think I’m an idiot, but it still smarts.
Sadie: What do you mean by that?
The reply comes mercifully quickly.
Tim: The way he looks at you. But also, I’ve seen you look at him, and you always look…more alive. He smiles, you smile. He frowns, you frown. There’s a thread linking you two together.
The uncomfortable feeling of blindness swoops over me again, and I scowl.
Sadie: Like with you and Nat, you mean?
As soon as I press send, I regret it. Dragging the mother of his child into this is a low blow.
Tim: Don’t get defensive. We’re not talking about me. You messaged me looking for a sounding board. I’m sounding board-ing honestly.
Sadie: I’m sorry, that was bitchy of me x
