“I did the official invites for the royal carol concert last year.”
“Right here? In this room?”
I set the plates I’m still holding on the coffee table and tug Bhodi a little to the left where my desk used to be. “Righthere.”
He’s not expecting my touch. It wavers his balance, toppling him into me, and of course we notice in the same moment. “Um…”
An awkward chuckle escapes me. “Um. Yeah. Anyway. I used to work in here, now I don’t. But it’s not your fault AI anddigital art make it tough for me to earn a living. I like a challenge.”
“That right?” Bhodi skewers me with a hot glance before he reins it in and steps away. “Damn. Sorry.”
“What for?”
Bhodi gestures for me to take a seat on the folded sofa-bed. “For getting in your face all the time. I don’t mean to, it just falls out of me when I’m around you.”
I should be relieved that it’s happening to him too. That it isn’t just me who turns into an idiot when we’re together. But I don’t think about that. It barely crosses my mind. Instead I let myself ask the real question. The reckless one that’s going to make this a hundred times worse. “What makes you think I don’t like you flirting with me?”
“A few things.” Bhodi pokes at his dinner, not eating, his gaze distant for a loaded second. “Before today, I wasn’t sure you were even into dudes. Then…I kinda did hear some of what you and your brother said earlier, and I got the impression that my brand of fuck-awful flirting is the last thing you want right now.”
“That’s what you heard?”
Bhodi nods, his jewel-bright gaze free of bullshit, and this time, the relief makes land. I mean, this isn’t great, but it’s better than him overhearing me talk about his dick.
Hisgorgeousdick.
“Sab worries about me. He told me a while ago that I’m going to die alone.”
Bhodi flinches. “That’s not nice.”
“He didn’t mean it—he just worries about me.”
“Because you’ve been through a lot?”
“You heard that too?”
“I think so. A lot of it really was in French and I backed up a bit when I realised you were fighting.”
“We weren’t fighting.”
Bhodi eats, disagreeing without words. But if he thinks what he saw tonight was the height of a Dubois throwdown, he’s in for a shock if he sticks around.
He’s not sticking around. It’s a six-month tenancy.
I kill that thought and dig into the dinner someone else has cooked for me. And it’s so fucking good for reasons beyond that it tastes amazing. “I can’t remember the last time someone cooked me dinner.”
“Sab doesn’t cook for you?”
“Not as much as he should. He’s like a fridge-raiding hamster these days.”
“It’s nice that you’re close.” Bhodi finishes up and sets his plate aside. “I miss having someone around who gives a shit what happens to me.”
I get the feeling he’s not talking about his family, and my curiosity must show on my face.
Bhodi sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “I don’t want to bring up my ex every time I see you.”
I nudge him with my foot. “Doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“It should. He’s not even my ex.”
