“I want you to have your money so you can take care of yourself.”
“And give you your coat back, huh?”
“What? No. That’s not why.” Luis was still wearing Paolo’s hoodie. He started to take it off. Paolo gripped his arms and forced them down. “Stop it. I don’t want it back.”
“Then why are you really here?”
“Because—” Paolo pursed his lips. What the fuck was he about to say? That he couldn’t stand the thought of Luis being alone despite the fact that they’d only spent one whole night together? That he missed him and wanted to take him to bed? If Luis didn’t think he was a lunatic by now, he would then. “Because I was worried about you. You left without saying anything.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I had something I had to do.”
“Like seeing your brother?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Luis shrugged. “What do you care? I already told that prick Dante sent not to come up on me at work. It won’t happen again.”
Paolo blinked. It was like talking to someone else. Like talking to the Luis Pope he’d first imagined when he’d looked up to see him waiting at the counter. “That wasn’t what I was worried about, but whatever. There’s your money, bro. See you in the morning.”
He tossed Luis’s cash at his feet and walked away.
Silence followed him, then footsteps, fast and heavy. Rough hands grabbed him and spun him around. Expecting a mugger, Paolo hit out. Luis took the shove to his chest and held firm. “You fucking lunatic.”
The echo of his own thoughts brought Paolo back to reality. He stopped struggling. “You’re the one wrestling with me in the middle of the street.”
“Only because I don’t want you to leave like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like a crazy person who throws money at people.”
“It’s your money.”
“So? Give it to me, don’t throw it at me.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Everything annoys you.”
Paolo rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t make you less annoying.”
Luis cracked a fleeting smile. He loosened his grip on Paolo, then seemed to change his mind and held him tighter, frowning again. “I don’t want you to leave at all, but I don’t want to show you my shitty bedsit either.”
“Why? My flat’s shitty too.”
“Trust me, it’s not.”
“Who do you think I am? Like, really? Some arsehole who looks down his nose at people? Luis, mate. The reason I knew whoyouwere is because we’re from the same place. Why would I judge you?”
Luis searched Paolo’s face, though for what, Paolo had no idea. He waited, perversely enjoying the roughness of Luis’s hold, until Luis seemed to find what he was looking for. “Come on, then.”
He let Paolo go and spun on his heel. Paolo followed him to a terraced house in the middle of the row and through a battered front door. Muffled music rattled the dingy hallway. Luis nodded to a door at the end. “I’m on the ground floor.”
“At the back or the front?”
“The back.”
