Page 21 of Someone Like You

Phil frowned. “What are you doing here?”

Unfazed by the sterile reception, Ian pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, cleared his throat, and started reading: “Hey, it’s Abby! Hope you don’t mind me stealing your number from Phil’s phone. I’ll be in London for a few days. Feel free to pester him whenever you want. He won’t be thrilled, but you’re bigger than him.I’m counting on you.” He paused, blue eyes dropping to the towel around Phil’s hips and then slowly trailing back up in a scorching wake.“Nice outfit.”

Phil’s ears burned. Suddenly very aware of how underdressed he was, he held onto the towel as if afraid it might fall off. It was hard to believe Ian could make him feel so self-conscious when in his old gym group Phil had been the tallest and one of the fittest. Also the most popular among women, but that was irrelevant now. His abs weren’t taut any more, his biceps had lost their definition. Clothed, he could still effortlessly turn heads, but without clothes he looked undeniablyflawed.

“Fuck you,” he sputtered.

“You wish.” Mischief glinted in Ian’s look before being replaced by a serious scrutiny. “You eaten?”

Phil was still processing: Ian at his doorstep, looking as striking as ever, the dark hair tied back in a ponytail, while Phil was virtually naked and still very preoccupied with the boner he’d just reluctantly washed away in the cold shower.

“Don’t you have to go to work or something?” he groused.

“Not until 9. Oh, by the way.” Ian bent to the ground to pick up something Phil hadn’t noticed and handed it to Phil with a shit-eating smirk. “I’m a man of my word.”

It was a bunch of flowers. Phil took it by reflex, too baffled tothink. Sunflowers and hydrangeas and some minuscule white buds he couldn’t name.

“Jackass,” he laughed, but there was a flattered undertone to it. Fresh flowers weren’t cheap and, even if it was just a joke, Ianhadremembered. He appreciated the commitment to the bit.

Ian tilted his head. “I’m not here to intrude. Just wanted to check on you. And give you the flowers.” His smirk ticked up on one side. “Have a nice day, Handsome.” He stepped back to leave, putting up a stoic facade, like a rejected child playing tough. Phil rolled his eyes so hard they nearly got stuck backwards.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He peevishly stepped aside and held the door wide open so that Ian could come in, which he did without the slightest hesitation, leaving Phil standing there with a bunch of flowers cradled in the crook of his arm and Sarif from next door gawking at him while retrieving his mail.

Phil waved at him. “Don’t tell my girlfriend.” And then he retreated inside. He tailed Ian to the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable,” he deadpanned.

Ian glanced back at him. “You’re comfortable enough for the both of us.”

“Oh.” Phil had completely forgotten about his state of undress. “Yeah, I should probably…”

“Don’t bother on my account.” Ian’s attention skimmed down his torso. “I’m not complainin’.”

“That makes a change.”

Ian chuckled, but didn’t look away. Phil felt that look in his groin — felt it like he hadn’t felt anything in way too long. It spread a heat he had lost all familiarity with, clouding his mind in a way that was almost inebriating. He’d forgotten about this, how good it felt.

“I’m gonna go get changed,” he announced, glad to have an excuse to seek some privacy. Upstairs, he downed his pills, took his time getting dressed, waiting for the heat to wear off. When he returned to the kitchen, Ian had tossed his jacket in a corner and was leaning back to the counter, scrolling through videos on hisphone. Phil had brought a vase for the flowers; he placed them on the window sill, where they could soak up the rare sunlight the day had been graced with.

“You didn’t have toactuallyshow up, you know?” he noted.

“You told Abigail we’d hang out when she was away.”

“So?”

“So I’m not a liar.” Ian gave Phil a pointed look. What he meant was perfectly clear and absolutely out of the question.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, that’s not gonna happen.” Phil made a sharp gesture. He had no idea why he was so averse to the idea: helikedspending time with this man, maybe even a bit too much.

Phil’s stomach chose that exact moment to let out a loud growl that earned a snicker fromIan, who headed straight to the fridge and started rummaging around in it.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re hungry and I missed breakfast to come see your pretty face. If you’re not feedin’ us, I will.”

That gave Phil’s executive dysfunction a much needed kick. He wasn’t going to just stand there while someone else made him an omelette or whatever Ian was planning to make with those eggs he’d pulled from the fridge.

“This is my kitchen,” he stated firmly. “Ido the cooking.”

Ian cast a sceptical glance at him, then, with a snort, relinquished the eggs.

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