“Oye!” Xavi growled, moving his body in front of Lulu’s. He was an inch or two shorter than the stranger, but a lot wider, layers upon layers of tight muscles rippling under the Henley that he wore like a second skin. Reaching out, Xavi placed hishand warningly in the middle of the guy’s chest. “Get the fuck outta here before I lose my shit,cabrón.” Xavi’s voice was low, but the message was loud as fuck. He wasn’t playing. Lulu had only heard Xavi speak like this once before. On the night when Lulu had been released from the hospital and Xavi had taken him home, Xavi had told Lulu’s father without blinking that if he ever touched Lulu again, he’d not live to see another day.
“I won’t be told off by some… by somecripple!” the guy huffed, looking at Xavi’s hand with undisguised contempt.
The next part happened so fast that Lulu’s head started spinning, like he was watching some action movie in fast forward. In a flash, Xavi’s hand grabbed the guy’s neck, squeezing around his throat.
“Call me acrippleagain, motherfucker, and you’ll lose a lot more than just two fingers.” Xavi took a step forward, his face all up in the guy’s face, their noses almost touching. Although it shouldn’t have been sexy, but instead so fucking disturbing—something like a bar fight in the middle of a theater bar—Lulu felt himself getting harder. Angry Xavi was fierce and hot as fuck. “You think I can’t fuck you up with my fucked-up hand? You wanna try me,cabrón?”
They were starting to draw a crowd as Lulu’s co-actors gathered around. He noticed Tallulah, one of his fellow dancers, to his right, clutching her prize-winning poodle, Bongo, against her chest, while their director, Eduardo, looked around the room frantically. What a shitshow.
“Xavi.” Lulu took a step forward. “It’s okay. Let him go.” Xavi didn’t seem to hear him at first, and it was only when Lulu reached out and brushed his fingers against his shoulder that the hand around the guy’s throat relaxed some. “Oso, let him go. He ain’t worth it.” Xavi’s entire body vibrated with anger, his muscles clenching and unclenching beneath Lulu’s fingertips. “Let him go,osito. He won’t bother us no more. Will you?” Lulu said the last part as he looked the guy dead in the eye. He shook his head, croaking out a strangled, “No.”
Xavi seemed to awaken then from the trancelike state he was in. Releasing his hand around the guy’s neck, Xavi’s shoulders slumped some as he took a step backward. Blindly, he wrapped his arm around Lulu’s midsection, tugging him against his side, his familiar scent wrapping around Lulu like a safe blanket.
“Fuck off,” Xavi gritted at the stranger, who was already retreating, his body shaking like a leaf. “And don’t let me see you anywhere near Lulu, you understand?” The stranger took another step backward as the gathered crowd seemed to be holding its breath, waiting for all hell to break loose. When he didn’t speak, Xavi raised his voice slightly. “We understand each other, asshole?”
“Yes,” the guy whispered. “We understand each other.” He threw Lulu a quick glance, setting off a succession of low growls in Xavi’s chest, then whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know…” Before he hurried out of the room.
The room remained dead quiet for a while until an older lady whispered a little too loudly, “Richard, was that part of the show?” Then the entire room erupted into laughter, and people started moving again, talking excitedly amongst each other, while Bongo barked frantically.
“Xavi?” Lulu whispered, searching Xavi’s face.
“You should’ve told me sooner.” Xavi’s voice was low, tight.
“I know. I didn’t think…”
“Yeah.” Xavi swept his hand along his buzzed head, scratching his neck. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t fucking think, Lulu.” Lulu’s stomach sank, not only at Xavi’s words, but at the unfamiliar harshness in his voice. Xavi had never spoken to him like that before.
“Xavi?” He swallowed.
“Just go get your stuff. We’re going home.” Xavi refused to look at him, his body stiff, still emanating anger. Lulu nodded as bile rose in his throat.
“Okay, Xavi,” he whispered. “Okay.”
Chapter Seven
Xavi
Fuck, if he’d hated himself last night, he loathed himself in the unforgiving light of day. Like, literally fucking loathed himself. What the hell was wrong with him, shutting down like that, blaming Lulu for that asshole’s behavior? He’d just lost it, but that was no excuse. Lulu was the victim, and he, Lulu’s so-called best friend, had blamed him. And the way he’d spoken to Lulu, with such harshness… yeah, that had been uncalled for. Shit, he was like one of those parents who yelled at a poor kid when they did something careless. Because that was it, wasn’t it? Lulu was careless for the most part, but that could never justify this creep stalking him like that. Xavi had been scared shitless, and he’d lashed out. At Lulu. Shit.
Lulu had left before Xavi got up this morning to go to work. A lonely, used coffee cup and a note next to it were the only testament that Lulu had even been there. No usual mess on the counter, spilled yogurt or cereal crunching underneath his feet on the linoleum floor. No wet, used towel hanging from his favorite chair, with residual water seeping into the fabric. It was unnerving, but Xavi couldn’t help but feel he deserved Lulu’s silent treatment after last night. Lulu had even slept on the pull-out, even though Xavi had expected him to sneak into his bedroom and hog his bed.
‘You’re almost out of coffee,’ the note read. ‘I’ll pick something up.’ No doodled hearts or kissy faces like Lulu would usually put on a note. No affectionateositoormano. Yeah, Lulu was fucking hurt.
Luckily, Xavi was meeting up with Joe after work to pick up his and Noah’s tuxes and the suits for the best men. Noah’s tux had gone through three fittings because the dude kept bulking up at the gym, although Joe had told him, in front of everyone at the tailor’s, of course, that he was big enough in all the places that mattered. The fuck? Yeah, Joe had no filter, and that was exactly why he was Xavi’s go-to guy whenever something was bothering him. He needed some sound advicebefore he managed to fuck up his entire life. And Joe gave out good advice like candy on Halloween, always happy to offer his opinion on something. And of course, the brutal truth too, so Xavi had better brace himself.
“So, what’s up,mano?” Joe looked at him through the mirror, where he was adjusting the midnight-blue bowtie. The crisp white shirt looked amazing against Joe’s olive skin, and the equally midnight-blue tux was perfectly fitted around his lean body. Noah was going to flip out, probably cry too, which would then set off Joe and the rest of the wedding party. It still amazed Xavi how the then closed-off closeted firefighter had gone from hardly speaking a word in public to now carrying every emotion on his sleeve, with his all-consuming love for Joe at the forefront. Xavi wanted a love like that; he longed for it with every fiber of his body, and that was exactly why he had to let go of this ridiculous idea that it could one day be he and Lulu trying on tuxes for their wedding.
“I fucked up.”
“You fucked up?” Joe frowned, then turned around and looked directly at Xavi, a growing tenderness in his eyes. “What happened?”
Xavi shrugged, because what had actually happened last night? It was hard to put into exact words, so he decided to go with the short version.
“We were at the theater when Lulu’s stalker showed up, and he was a real creep.”
“And?” Joe motioned with his hand when Xavi made no indication of going on.
“And he came on to Lulu. Hard.”
