Page 49 of Back Room Host

He only held on briefly—out of pure politeness.

When she left the apartment, I breathed a sigh of relief. Just thirteen more days, then I would get the walking boot. Maybe then I could start working again.

It’s not like I had money problems. With my hourly wage, I could make a decent monthly income with just a few hours ofwork. I saved most of the money. The fear of becoming obsolete one day loomed large. I didn’t have an apprenticeship lined up, and each passing hour seemed to bring me closer to my perceived expiration date despite being seven years away from thirty.

I should use the holidays to find an apprenticeship, I thought as Luca poured himself another coffee.Or … what about online sex chats? Maybe I can earn something on the side while I’m stuck here. Still better than doing nothing.

Of course, work was a distraction from my misery. My sprained hand or twisted ankle weren’t the problem, but the nightmares that would soon haunt me and all the bad memories circling above me like vultures. I knew they would come looking for me, and not even this fancy apartment would stop them from finding me.

In my job as a callboy, I had many shitty encounters, but what lurked at night was the horror that my old man had brought home to me. Just because I couldn’t distract myself with false love, it was even more important to have something to bridge the days ahead.

Oh yes, I have to check out this online chat thing. I’m hoping Luca won’t feel obligated to babysit me around the clock like a lapdog.

“We’re having an early Christmas,” he said, sitting down with another fresh cup at the table.

He looked cute in his gray hoodie, still sleepy-eyed with disheveled hair. I noticed that his hairline was starting to show, but that didn’t make him any less attractive with his dark brows.

“We’re celebrating tomorrow, on the twenty-third, because my brother is flying to Thailand the day after tomorrow. And on Saturday, the twenty-fourth, I’ll be working at Exil.”

“Are you celebrating at your parents’ place?”

“Yeah. Do you … uh … want to come along?”

I glanced up in surprise. Does he really want that? It felt more like he was asking out of pure politeness. “What? No! For heaven’s sake!”

Luca smiled, poured some milk into his coffee, and started stirring again. I had to admit, it was somewhat meditative.

“I just thought … Because you don’t have anyone else.”

“It’s okay,” I muttered.

“How have you spent past Christmases?”

With Noé, but now he’s being taken care of.“I don’t care about Christmas. So don’t worry about it.”

Luca set aside the spoon and took a sip of coffee. “I could cook tonight,” he said, setting his cup back down.

“Hm …”

“Do you eat everything? Or do you have any allergies?”

“I’m allergic to pork,” I replied.

“Like, really allergic, or just because you can’t stand it?”

“Really allergic. Even if you take the ham off the pizza, it still closes up my throat and I choke.”

“Oh, okay, then … no pork.”

Luca grinned, but it was hard for me to laugh about it. Because what came next seemed like a much bigger problem than me having a pork allergy in the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” Luca noticed everything.

“I’d like to take a shower,” I said hesitantly. “But I have no idea how I’m going to manage that alone.”

Luca’s features softened. “There’s another bathroom. One with a bathtub. That might be easier for you. And of course, I’ll help you.”

I’m so screwed, I thought, and forced myself to nod.

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