Page 15 of Psycho
As usual, he looked like he’d rolled off a pirate ship, dark hair askew, a few days worth of scruff on his chiseled face. All he was missing was a bottle of rum, which Archer had no doubt already downed before leaving his apartment.
Noah waved Archer off. “Don’t mind him. If you want to get this guy, you—and I can’t stress this enough—cannot listen to any advice offered up by these two idiots. Or anybody else with the last name Mulvaney, honestly.”
“Hey,” Adam said, feigning hurt.
“No, he’s got a valid point. I can show you how to get anybody into bed, but I don’t have a clue what to do with them once the sex is over,” Archer said, kicking his booted foot up on the kitchen chair beside him. “You probably shouldn’t get your relationship advice from a bunch of psychopaths.”
August shifted his gaze to the only non-psychopath in the room. “How do I make him like me?”
Noah leaned in, tongue sweeping across his lower lip before he asked, “Well, how did you leave things with him this morning?”
August’s mind drifted back to that moment. He’d woken to find Lucas had breached his own pillow barrier and infiltrated August’s side of the bed. He’d stared down in amusement at Lucas’s face smashed against August’s bicep, both hands wrapped around his forearm like he was his own personal pillow. He liked being Lucas’s pillow. “I just snuck out before he woke up.”
“You fucked him and then ghosted?” Noah asked, sounding horrified.
August’s brows knitted together. “What? No. We didn’t have sex. I just asked him if I could sleep with him.”
Noah rubbed both hands over his face. “You’re all androids. It’s like you’ve never watched a single romantic comedy in your lives.” He pointed at August. “You can read an entire book in, like, thirty minutes and you’ve never cracked open a single one on relationships?”
August shrugged. “Why would I? I’ve never wanted a relationship. Until now. I went there last night to tell him that.”
“And how did he react?” Noah prompted.
August grinned. “He pulled a knife on me.”
Archer snickered. “Smart man. I like him already.”
“Is that why there’s blood all over your shirt?” Noah asked. “He stabbed you?”
August frowned. “Not exactly. I did it.”
Noah’s mouth fell open. “You stabbed yourself? You need to start at the beginning.”
August did his best to recall all the details of the night before. When he was done, he found himself staring at three dumbfounded faces. “Well, help me.”
“Dude, you broke into a stranger’s house, told him you were Batman, kissed him, impaled yourself on a blade, and then asked to spend the night. I don’t know that God could help you,” Noah said.
“I don’t ever want to hear that I’m bad at romance,” Adam told Noah, expression smug.
Noah grinned and patted his cheek before turning back to August. “Okay, so, this isn’t that bad.” At the others’ incredulous looks, he said, “Okay, it’s a little bad.” When they continued to blink at him, he blurted, “Okay, it’s really bad, but we can fix it.”
“How? How do I fix this?” August asked, genuinely wanting to make things right. He wanted Lucas to be excited to see him, not terrified of him.
“Well, to start, you have to be more Bruce Wayne and less Batman,” Noah said.
August frowned. “I don’t know what that means.”
Noah blew out an exasperated breath. “It means less creepy vigilante and more suave billionaire.”
“August? Suave? Good luck,” Archer quipped.
Noah glared at Archer. “Unhelpful, dude,” To August, he said, “Okay, so maybe not suave but, like, sincere. Do nice things for him. Find out what he likes. Bring him coffee. Ask him on a real date.”
What nice thing could August do for Lucas? He didn’t even know him, knew nothing about him, except that he smelled like rain and spice and looked soft and vulnerable when he slept and that August had watched him drool on his arm that morning and found it…comforting. “I want to keep him.”
“Bruh. Those are thinking thoughts not speaking thoughts,” Noah coached. “You can’t just go around telling strangers you’ve imprinted on them like some werewolf in aTwilightmovie. They won’t get it.”
August shrugged. “He already knows I’m a psychopath.”
