Page 34 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
He opened the door with unsteady hands, ushering Arlo inside, and glimpsing Mr. DuPont on the stairs staring after them, before he closed the door and fell back against it.
“Man, this really is a shoebox.”
“Whatever you do, don’t stretch your arms out because you’ll touch the sides.”
Arlo huffed out a small laugh, but said nothing more as he looked around the tiny space, taking it all in.
He’s probably thinking how shit it all looks.At least there was no abandoned toast, nor boxer briefs draped all over the place to dry.
“I’m sorry,” Arlo said. “About the other night.”
“What, exactly, are you sorry for, Arlo?” Lucian pushed himself away from the door as anger mixed and melded with confusion. “Are you apologizing for inviting me back in the first place? It was you who asked me, remember, not the other way around.” Arlo had pulled him in, then pushed him away, and now he was here and he didn’t know why. Anger and confusion fizzed in his veins. “Just like it was you who made the first move to kiss me. Oh, not once, but twice. Okay, so that first time—”
“I’m still not paying to replace ‘em, mister.”
“What? I don’t want—oh, bloody hell.” Lucian sagged down onto the sofa, his anger and indignation spent. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to be indignant, and he had every right to be, but he couldn’t, not when Arlo lowered himself down beside him, the warmth of his body so tantalizingly close, and definitely not with those steady gold-green eyes gazing into his.
“Why are you here, Arlo? I don’t know what happened the other night, what I did to make you go cold—”
“You did nothing. You’re right about me making the first move to kiss you. I’m glad I did because it was everything I hoped it would be — or it was on the second attempt. But…”
Lucian’s heart raced, thundering in his chest.But. One tiny word that said so much.
“But. Why but?” Lucian held his breath, waiting for Arlo to tell him all about thebut.
“Because I’m damaged goods,” Arlo said softly. “When it finished with Tony, it broke me into pieces. I came home to put them all back together again, or as best I could, though I’m not sure I’m doing such a great job of it. Being more than friends, it’s probably not wise for either of us.”
“Not wise. Yeah, well, maybe you’re right. Probably are. You saved us both from a fate worse than death. So what is this, some kind of Dear John speech?”
“I didn’t like the way the evening ended up. It was my fault, and I needed to explain.”
“So now you have.”
Arlo rubbed his brow. “Perhaps it’s best if I go.” He made no attempt to stand.
“I could escort you to the door, but you’ve only got to put your arm out and you’ll be able to touch it.”
Arlo nodded. “I just wanted to… say what I had to. Better go, I guess. I promised Hank I’d stop in at Randy’s.” He grimaced.
“So, you thought you’d call in here then go to the bar? Kill two birds with one stone.”
“I didn’t mean it like—who the hell…” Arlo’s cell rang and he fumbled it from the hip pocket of his jeans. “I’ll cancel the—”
“Answer it. It might be Hank telling you to get down there quick as there’s a two for one on deep fried skunk.”
“Hank,” Arlo barked. “We said… Oh, right. Sure…”
Lucian got up and crossed the few steps to his kitchenette. Tea and toast, tonight’s dinner. Despite his hunger, he wasn’t sure he could stomach much more.
He threw a tea bag into a mug, keeping his back to Arlo, the hiss of the kettle drowning out the sound of the one sided conversation. By the time he’d made the tea, Arlo would be on his feet, ready to leave. Being more than friends… He shoved a couple slices of bread into the toaster and smashed down the lever before slopping boiling water into the mug, jabbing at the bobbing tea bag. Arlo was right. The guy was damaged goods. He had Arlo’s own words and Bibi’s telling him that loud and clear. Join the fucking club. The tea bag, unable to withstand his onslaught, burst, sending a cloud of leaves to the surface, just as the acrid stench of burning rose from the toaster.
“Shit.” He jabbed the eject button and incinerated toast flew out and landed on the floor. He swooped them up and slung them in the trash, then chucked the ruined mug of tea down the sink.
“That was Hank. He’s had to cancel.”
“Really?” Lucian turned around and leaned back against the counter.
“I’m glad, if I’m honest. Not sure I’m in the mood to talk about car engines or baseball.”
