Just because I want to walk up behind him, press him against the wall with my body, and trail kisses down his neck doesn’t mean Ihaveto do that.
No matter how happy and bubbly it makes my gut to think about it.
Being friends with him is important to me because I think I could learn a lot from him. Not about electricals, because I’m hopeless there, but his calm energy, the way he doesn’t force his thoughts into every opening, and how he lives completely in the moment are all things I respect.
They’re also things I’m terrible at myself. I always have to be moving, or talking, or making things happen around me. The loudness hides the loneliness, and it’s been working for me so far.
Ziggy’s lonely too though, and he doesn’t feel the need to do all that.
Besides being insanely attracted to him, I also admire him a whole hell of a lot.
So I can’t screw this up. Knowing me, Iwill, but the least I can do is put in some effort to keep things friendly. To make sure that we have each other, because I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want to lose him.
A hand on my arm makes me jump a mile, and I turn to find Ziggy’s bemused expression.
“I was thinking,” I say, defending my over-the-top reaction.
Sure you were.
At least, that’s what I think he’s saying, and it’s nice to be getting more confident at reading him. It’s also nice to see less hesitation and nervousness around me. If I had to guess, I’d say that having sex has loosened him up when it comes to me. I guess once you get naked with someone, there isn’t a whole lot left to be self-conscious about.
“How’s the wiring going?” I ask to move on from the jump scare.
Good. Ziggy points to the wall that has wiring running through it.
“All done?”
He nods and points to two others, indicating that he hasn’t started them yet.
“When do you think you’ll have time to do them?” I’m conscious of not pushing or asking for too much. The last thing I want is for Ziggy to think we’re taking advantage of him, even though he’s the one who didn’t want to be paid.
When he doesn’t answer, I’m about to jump in and remind him that he doesn’t have to, but the determined expression he’s wearing makes me pause. His mouth moves, and it occurs to me, way too slowly, that he wants to answer.
Which means I have to give him time.
I’m not good with being patient and letting silences happen, but if I want to be as good a friend to Ziggy as he is to me, I need to learn. What he needs matters as much as what I need.
“Hopefully tomorrow,” he mutters.
“Tomorrow works for me.”
His deep brown eyes meet mine, and they’re shining with something I can’t place. “Good.” I’m not sure what gives me the impression, but there’s something almost cocky in the way he watches me. Like he’s waiting for something.
The longer we hold eye contact, the drier my mouth becomes until it’s like I’m trying to swallow the Sahara. I’m very seriously starting to doubt that I’m built for friends, because I know keeping things platonic is for the best, it’s the smarter option … but I don’t want to be smart.
I want to remember what his lips taste like and how he moans and squirms with my hands on him.
“Kenny …”
My gut twists with my name, loving how he says it. “Don’t say my name.”
He blinks through confusion, and I hurry to clarify.
“Because it makes me want to do things to you that I shouldn’t.” To be even clearer, I add, “Again.”
I’m not expecting the slow smile that stretches across his face. He steps closer, one hand finding my arm again as he leans in so his lips are hovering by my ear.
A shiver races down my back before he’s even said a word.
