“Nope.”
“Thank fuck. Budge over.”
I shuffle until I’m pressed against the bathroom cabinet.
Ciprian closes the door behind him, toes his shoes off and kicks them toward the shower, then drops beside me with a groan. He’s on his back and I’m on mystomach, but we’re pressed tightly together. His warm body is a sharp contrast to the cold floor.
“If I asked you to make me a drink tonight, would you?”
“Obviously.”
“I’m not trying to escape reality.”
“Okay.”
“Talking to my mom was stressful, but I don’t need to drink to forget or anything.”
“That’s good.”
There’s a pause before Ciprian sighs. “Sorry I got weird last night.”
I nudge my shoulder against his. “It’s already forgotten.”
He groans. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re too accommodating? It’s okay to pitch a fit sometimes, Luca.”
I grunt. I hear him, and I appreciate what he’s trying to do, but I’ve always found the energy it takes for me to be mad is too hard to maintain. I’d rather put effort into solving the problem.
I turn my head so I can see his face.
Ciprian’s nose tilts slightly up at the end in a cute contrast to the angular lines of his cheekbones and chin. His eyelashes are thick and a few shades darker than his white-blond hair.
“I like it when you look at me,” Ciprian says, his voice deeper than usual.
I pull my lip ring between my teeth and wink at him.
Then his lips are moving against mine, soft and sweet. The stubble on his chin scrapes my skin in a way that should feel bad but is somehow perfect instead. When he pulls away, he’s wearing a crooked grin.
“Why are we on the floor, Luca?”
I raise one eyebrow. “I know why I’m here. I don’t have a clue about you.”
Ciprian chuckles. “Easy. I’m here because you are.”
My heart thumps unsteadily in my chest. It’s a simple statement and not particularly romantic, but that’s why I like it so much. There aren’t many straightforward things about Ciprian Casanell. If his feelings for me are, that’s a win.
“Where’s the booze?” I ask.
“I’m not sure, but I’ll find some,” he says. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s sniffing out alcohol.”
I hum in the back of my throat. “I think you’re good at a lot of things.”
Ciprian smiles, and the expression lights up his entire face.
He shifts his weight, pressing closer to me before wincing when his bare arm grazes the tile. Shaking his head, he sits up and flips a switch on the wall before laying back down. “The floor is fucking cold.”
I grunt, letting my eyes drift shut as the ceramic heats beneath me.
NINE
