What do his not-spare pillows feel like? As soft as his heart?
Oh, god-freaking-damn-it. Why did I have to go there? Especially after yesterday? Hugging Ian the way I did made me feel filthy. Even though he’s the most laid-back guy I’ve ever met, not that I’ve met very many, I can’t stop thinking that I’m taking advantage of him.
He offered to let me stay here, but I’m still taking up his living room. Strike one.
Strike two is the fact that I hugged him withwaymore intention than he did. He initiated, but in a friendly, reassuring way. Feeling his solid body on mine made something in me snap, and Itook. I wrapped my arms around his muscular shoulders, breathed in the smell of his masculine shampoo, and let myself get all mushy and lusty over a guy who’s been nothing but good to me.
Why am I like this? All weak over something that should be normal.
Before I can talk myself down from the scary cliff of inappropriate feelings, I hear some kind of clatter behind the bookshelf, and then Ian muttering a muffled curse. After slipping on my hoodie to cover my rumpled hair, I step into the dining room to find him putting jelly on a piece of bread with slow, cautious movements.
“Oh, hey,” he says, focusing on his bread. “Did I wake you up?”
“Nah, I’ve been awake for a while,” I lie. It’s almost noon, and I really made up for my night in the gym by staying dead to the world for who knows how long.
Ian nods before putting the jar back in the fridge, and the difference in how he’s walking is noticeable. Or rather, it’s audible because now, I can hear him.
“Were you trying to be quiet before I came out here?” I ask, caution lining my voice.
“Yeah, didn’t want to disturb you, not after your night in the gym.”
A pang of guilt slams into my stomach. This is why I didn’t want to stay here—I’m making Ian slink around his own apartment.
“You don’t have to do that. Don’t let me make you feel uncomfortable or anything.”
He waves me off with a chuckle, one that’s a lot more at ease than I would have expected. “Dude, I’m not uncomfortable.”
Then why was he walking around on tiptoes?
“And even if I was,” he continues, “there’s no way that’d be anywhere near as bad as the alternative. If I have to be a little quiet, it’s no big deal, as long as it means you’re not hauling yourself to and from Vermont every day.”
I know Ian’s words should be reassuring, but they don’t settle me. “Sure, just let me know if I can make this easier for you.”
He sighs, leaning against the dining table. He faces me, and hiseyes soften. “Cal, you’rewaytoo nice. I invited you to stay here. You’re allowed to exist, man.”
I’m about to agree, if reluctantly, when a yawn cuts me off. I stretch up, and when I bring my arms down and my attention back to Ian, he’s looking away.
“I gotta, uh, take a leak,” he says, darting down the hallway.
Okay. That was abrupt.
Remembering my responsibility to make coffee in lieu of rent, I amble into the kitchen and take stock of the machine. There’s a tube leading into a metal box off to the side. It’s a mini-fridge full of milk.
He has a separate fridge for the milk he makes coffee with. Holy crap, we lead totally different lives.
I press the most worn-down button on the machine, and it spits out a drink, and once it’s done, I make a normal coffee for myself. Ian comes back right as it’s finishing up, so I hand him his mug.
“Did you make me coffee? You know I was kidding about that being your rent, right?” He takes a sip before I can think of a reply to fumble through, and then his eyes widen. “It's a latte. You actually remembered what I drink.”
I nod, and before I can tell Ian that the faded latte button on the machine was a convenient reminder, he puts the mug down to launch into a hug.
“Broski, oh my god. Absolutely no homo whatsoever, but I fucking love you.”
No homo. If only he knew.He sure wouldn’t say he loves me, even as a joke.
“It isn’t a huge deal,” I mumble. That’s all I can muster before something raw and tender crashes into me. It’s like hugging Ian saps all the reluctance and tension out of me, replacing it with helpless affection, and I can’t do anything but hold him back.
Even when it means a lot more to me than it does to him.
