Page 78 of Meeting Mr. Adorkable
“I’ve been thinking. It doesn’t make sense for me to carry on living here.” He glanced around his tiny apartment, and at the few homely touches he’d added. “Perhaps it’s time for me to… what I mean is…” The words stumbled on his tongue. Arlo stared at him, his green-gold eyes unreadable, his expression set in neutral. “Perhaps it’s time I moved in with you,” he finished lamely.
Arlo said nothing, looking away and running his fingers through his hair.
“Arlo?” Lucian whispered, “don’t you like the idea? Don’t you think it’s the next step? As we’ve decided, I’m staying here. It—it would kind of make us official. Of course, I’ll contribute to the bills. But I think it’ll be safer if you do the cooking, because I think you’d soon get fed up of Marmite on toast, or really horrible risotto.” Lucian laughed, his attempt to lighten the suddenly dense, choking atmosphere falling flat as Arlo remained silent. “You’re worrying me, Arlo, you’re really fucking worrying me.”
Arlo hung his head, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He looked up, his face a picture of pain. Lucian’s stomach burned as the tea he’d drunk turned to acid.
Oh no. No, no,no…
“Over the last couple weeks, I’ve been thinking hard. About us.”
“Look, if me moving in is a bit much, for now, I’ll stay here. I know us getting together wasn’t in either of our plans, so I get it if I’m being too full on and—”
“You’re not being full on.” Arlo took his hands in his. Their warmth and strength should have been a comfort, so why did it feel like they were holding him up and stopping him from drowning? “What you just said, about us getting together not being in our plans, it’s right. Neither of us were looking for—”
“I know that. I kept questioning myself, over and over, about whether it was even wise for us to be friends, let alone anything else. But the heart wants what the heart wants, right? And—and my heart wants you.”
“Oh, Lucian,” Arlo sighed.
Lucian pulled his hands out from Arlo’s. “What do you mean byoh, Lucian?” Understanding was knocking at the door of his heart, along with fear and a rising anger. “What is it you’re finding so hard to say to me?”
“I…” Arlo’s voice trailed off, and he licked his lips.
“You what, exactly? I never reckoned on you being mealy mouthed. Why can’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”
Arlo winced, and a thrill pulsed through Lucian that Arlo, so often sure and steady, was none of those things now. The thrill faded as fast as it had come, because there was damn all to be thrilled about as they stared at each other, inches yet universes apart.
“I don’t think you staying here, in the Creek and—and with me—is a good idea. For either of us.”
Understanding, fear, and anger burst through, reducing the door to a pile of splintered, broken pieces.
“You don’t think it’s a good idea? You don’t think me staying here is good for me? What gives you the right to decide what’s good for me, and what isn’t?” Nausea rose in Lucian’s throat. “Miles thought he knew what was best for me. Every other man who’s crashed into my life has thought they knew what was best for me. My mum, my brother, my sister, they all think they know what’s best for me.”
Lucian jumped up, his knee knocking the little table and toppling over his mug, flooding the surface with the remains of his tea.
“I’m not trying to dictate to you—”
“Don’t tell me that.” Lucian pulled his hands aside as Arlo got to his feet and tried to catch them, stumbling out of arm’s reach. “Don’t lie to me, because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Everybody seems to think they know what’s best for me, but I never, ever thought you’d join the list. Poor Lucian, too stupid, too immature, to know what to think about anything. We’ll just have to do the thinking for him. Why doesn’t anybody have enough faith that I’m capable of making the decisions that are best for me? Why don’t you, Arlo? Why don’t you have faith in me?” His voice had dropped to little more than a shaky whisper, his burst of searing anger already going cold.
“Baby, I do have faith in you.”
“Doesn’t sound like it. Just like it doesn’t sound like I’m your baby anymore.”
“You’ll always be that.”
“That already sounds like a goodbye.”
“Lucian, please. Let me explain.”
“What’s to fucking explain, Arlo?” Lucian snapped, his anger heating once again. “Yeah, why don’t you explain in simple language a fool like me can understand? Because it’s what you’ve made me feel like. Well, go on. Explain why you’ve broken my heart. Explain why my world has crumbled at my feet. Explain, as you kill me, why I should still want you.”
“Sit down. Please?” Arlo sank back onto the couch; Lucian hesitated before he perched at the opposite end. He waited. Arlo wanted to explain, so he could damn well start.
“When I came back here, it was to change my life. You know what happened with Tony.”
“You had a bad breakup. You were battered and bruised. I get it, because I’ve got the T-shirt, seen the TV show, and read the book, remember?”
“I know. But Tony wasn’t the first guy I committed myself to. Every serious relationship I’ve had has failed, and every time it was heartbreaking, but with him it was crucifying.”
