Page 27 of Rules to Love By

“Don’t you boys have to eat?”

“I’m going to help Marcus with the shelves. Then I have to get back to the city. Feed the cat.”

“You have roommates.”

“My cat. And I’m sure Marcus has plans. A date or something.”

“I—”

“Come on.” Eli took the computer, set it on the table, then turned Marcus by his shoulders, this time insulated by the oversized flannel he was wearing. “Lots to do.” He all but pushed Marcus down the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Marcus asked as he hurried before Eli to the bottom.

Once through the door, with it shut firmly behind them, Eli let out a sigh. “You do not want to eat my father’s cooking.”

“Really?”

“Trust me. That coffee this morning?”

Marcus made a face.

“It all tastes like that. I think I have damaged taste buds because of it.”

Marcus’s stomach growled.

“Don’t worry. I’ll feed you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I denied you a free meal. I’ll make it up to you.”

Marcus frowned, brows knotting, dark eyes going black.

“I didn’t mean—shit. I’m sorry. I just meant—”

“Let’s just get those shelves down. Then you can get back to your life.” Marcus stalked off towards the back of the shop, despite the fact that the only light came from the streetlamps in the wide front windows and a lamp on the counter.

“Marcus.” Eli scurried after him.

“It’s fine,” Marcus said as he strapped on his tool belt, which he’d left hanging on the door handle to the storeroom. “You’re not wrong, are you?”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get this done. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than follow me around all day.”

“I actually—” Eli stopped Marcus with a hand on his shoulder. “Will you please look at me?”

With a heavy sigh and slump of his shoulders, Marcus turned. “Why?”

“So I can apologize properly for being an insensitive asshole?”

“I already said don’t worry about it.” He glared at the floor, looking more hurt than angry.

“Hey.” Without thinking, Eli tipped his chin up. “I’m really sorry. I think I said it in light of being a starving student. I used to come home weekends because I ran out of food. Even his cooking, I wouldn’t have passed up, strings and all.” He ran a thumb over the side of Marcus’s face, unable to help himself. “It wasn’t a dig at your situation. I swear.”

“I believe you. Sorry I got bent.”

“Don’t blame you.”

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