Dakota looked down at the boxes he’d arranged, all lined up with their edges flush, labels facing the same direction. “Is that bad?”
“No. It’s cute.”
Heat crawled over Dakota’s face, over his ears, and down his throat. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and tried to think of something clever to say, but his mind went completely empty.
Kivani pushed off the counter and walked over to where Dakota stood. He looked at the boxes then at Dakota, and his mouth curved into that smile that made Dakota’s knees feel unreliable. “You did a good job. Thanks for helping.”
“It’s no problem.” Dakota’s hands fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. “I wasn't sleeping anyway.”
“Bad dreams?”
“Something like that.” Dakota thought about Bennett’s phone call, about the way his hands had shaken at dinner. “My brain doesn't shut off very well.”
“I get that.” Kivani ran a hand through his already messy hair, making it stick up even more. “That’s why I’m down here reorganizing my entire inventory at three in the morning.”
Dakota smiled despite himself. “At least you’re productive when you can’t sleep. I just lie there and spiral.”
“That sounds miserable.”
“It’s not great.” Dakota looked around the shop, at the neat displays and organized stock. “But this helped. Gave me something to focus on.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Kivani’s smile was soft. “You should probably get some rest though. It’s late.”
“Yeah. Probably.” Dakota didn’t move. Neither did Kivani. They stood there in the quiet shop, close enough that he could count the man’s eyelashes if he wanted to. He very much wanted to, but forced himself to take a step back then another. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Dakota turned toward the door, his heart beating too fast. He made it three steps before he felt Kivani’s fingers wrap around his wrist, gentle but firm. The touch sent electricity racing up Dakota’s arm, across his shoulders, then down into his groin. He froze.
“Dakota.”
Slowly, Dakota turned around. Kivani was still holding his wrist, his thumb resting against Dakota’s pulse point. Could the guy feel how fast his heart was racing? Could he tell what that touch was doing to him?
“Thank you,” Kivani said. His voice was quiet, sincere. “Really. You didn’t have to help, but I appreciate it.”
“It was nothing.” Dakota’s voice came out breathless. He could feel every point of contact where Kivani’s fingers pressed against his skin, warm and solid and impossible to ignore.
“It wasn't nothing to me.”
They stood there for another moment that stretched too long, Kivani’s hand still wrapped around Dakota’s wrist. Then Kivani let go, his fingers sliding away slowly, and Dakota felt the loss of that touch like a physical thing.
“Goodnight, Dakota.”
“Goodnight.”
Dakota walked to the door on legs that felt like they might give out. He didn’t look back, even though he wanted to. The stairs seemed endless, each step taking effort he didn’t have. His wrist still tingled where Kivani had touched it.
Inside his apartment, Dakota closed the door and leaned against it, his eyes falling shut. His heart was still racing, his skin still buzzing with the memory of Kivani’s fingers. He touched his own wrist, pressing his thumb against the same spot Kivani had held, trying to recreate the feeling. It wasn't the same.
Dakota pushed off the door and walked to his bed, falling onto it face-first. The sheets were cool against his flushed skin. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, watching shadows play across the cracked plaster.
He replayed the pre-dawn hours in his mind. The way Kivani had looked crouched on the floor, gathering candies. The way he’d smiled when he called Dakota cute. The way his hand had felt wrapped around Dakota’s wrist, warm and confident and deliberate in a way that made Dakota’s entire body light up.
This was dangerous. This feeling building in his stomach, spreading through his limbs, making him want things he shouldn't want. Dakota had come here to escape, to hide, to figure out his life without complications. Getting involved with someone, especially his landlord, was the exact opposite of keeping a low profile.
But god, the way Kivani had looked at him. The way he’d touched him.
Dakota rolled onto his side and pulled his pillow against his body, hugging it tight. He could still smell the sugar-sweet scent of the taffy shop clinging to his clothes. Could still feel the ghost of Kivani’s fingers on his skin.
