by Witt, L. A.
No. I don’t want you on any kind of wheels ever again unless you’re encased in carbon fiber bubble wrap.
I swallowed. “It’s up to you. If you still want to, then when you’re feeling up to it . . .”
“Can Brennan give me more lessons?”
“I don’t see why not.” I got up to refill my coffee. “Let’s give you a chance to heal up first, but if you still want to, okay.”
“Cool.” He concentrated on his pudding for a moment. Then, as I was sitting down again, he asked, “Is Brennan your boyfriend?”
I dropped my very full coffee, but fortunately, it was only quarter of an inch above the table at that point. It landed right, if loudly, and splashed a couple of drops on my hand. “What?” I licked the coffee off my finger, thankful it hadn’t been too hot. “My boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” He held my gaze as I sat down. “You guys hang out a lot. Like you did with Chris. And Megan.”
My heart flipped at the mention of my exes. “Well, yeah. We do.”
He watched me, eyebrows up like he expected an explanation.
“We’re friends.” I laughed softly, wondering why it sounded—and felt—so fake. “We’re not dating.”
“Oh.”
It was my turn to watch him. “Why? Do you . . . do you want us to be dating?”
“I don’t know. I like him.”
“Yeah, me too.” I hesitated, then quickly added, “But just like a friend.”
Right?
Tariq seemed to accept that. He didn’t push the issue, and kept working his way through the last of the pudding in the cup.
I couldn’t let the subject go, though. Tariq knew I hung out with both men and women, and he knew I dated both men and women. He didn’t automatically assume a close friend was more than that. But somehow, Brennan and I had made him wonder?
Was he seeing something I wasn’t? Admittedly, I was getting pretty attached to Brennan. It had been a long time since I’d looked forward to someone’s company like I did his.
But that didn’t mean . . .
My stomach tightened as I wrapped my hands around my coffee cup. Even if I did have a connection with Brennan, there was one big problem: He’d met Tariq. And Tariq liked him. Which meant going out on that limb and dating was a huge gamble. What if things fell apart? What if Brennan spun the Wheel of Reasons People Don’t Stay With Zafir, and I had to explain to Tariq why it was, yet again, just him and me?
Besides, there was no way Brennan was ready for anything more than friends. Up until recently, he’d been comfortable in his heterosexual skin. He was hanging around me because I understood the new skin he was in, and I didn’t judge him, and I had answers if he had questions. We were becoming close friends. It didn’t mean there was anything more going on.
I had to admit, though, that the bug Tariq had put in my ear was a persistent one. Was there something between Brennan and me? If there wasn’t, could there be? And if there could, should there be?
Easy, Zafir.
I was an idiot for even thinking about it. Brennan had lived as a straight guy up until we met, and he was still dealing with a breakup. Just because we’d clicked and become fast friends didn’t mean he was remotely interested in anything more.
Just because I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and could trust him with my son, and couldn’t wait to see him again . . .
That didn’t mean I was remotely interested in anything more.
Right?
Chapter 15
Brennan
I hadn’t slept for shit. Over and over, I kept seeing Sven crashing into Tariq and flattening him on the ramp. When I was awake, I replayed what really happened—the crying kid sitting up with blood all over his face and his tooth missing. When I dreamed, it was worse. Broken bones. Realizing too late that I hadn’t made him wear a helmet. Not being able to get him to the hospital while the clock ticked on that tooth.
By the time I dragged myself out of bed the next morning, I’d half convinced myself that those dreams were true and Tariq was way more fucked up than he really was.
As soon as I could see straight, I grabbed my phone and texted Zafir: How is Tariq doing?
Within a few minutes, he replied, He got pudding for breakfast, so he’s not complaining.
I laughed. Pudding for breakfast? Damn, that actually sounded good. That kid had it made. Well, aside from the whole face-planting on the pavement thing, anyway.
Glad he’s doing better, I wrote back.
He is. He’s looking forward to going to school. Thinks his friends will be impressed by war wounds.
LOL—welcome to having a skater in the house.
Great. Does that mean a cast will be a badge of honor?
I grimaced. Probably best not to confirm that part to him quite yet.
I felt a lot better knowing Tariq was doing okay, though. I hoped like hell his tooth didn’t give him any trouble—the last thing the poor kid needed was a root canal on top of everything else.
Fingers crossed for him, I wrote back.
Zafir didn’t answer, so he was probably busy with Tariq.
And, anyway, I really needed to get off my ass and get ready for work.
* * *
Ten minutes before my shift started, I parked behind the store and headed inside. I hadn’t even signed into the computer when my boss appeared.
“Hey, Bren.” Colin’s brow creased. “How’s that kid? I heard you had to take him to the ER.”
“He’s good.” I paused to clock into the system. “Tooth went back in, nothing’s broken, and he’s already itching to get back on a board.”
Colin laughed. “Surprise, surprise.”
“Yeah. I’m sure his dad is thrilled.”
“You did reach him, right? I heard you were having trouble getting his dad on the horn.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved a hand. “He was driving or something when I called, but as soon as I got ahold of him, he came to the ER. Everything’s good.”
“Glad to hear it. You tell him if they need anything, let me know.”
I nodded. “Will do.”
From anyone else, I would’ve taken it as nervous damage control. Offering to help in any way so they could placate Zafir and keep him from suing. But I knew Colin better than that. He was one of those people who’d give the shirt off his back to help someone, and I had no doubt he genuinely felt terrible about Tariq getting hurt at his park.
Colin headed back out into the store, and I took care of a few inventory tasks for him before I also went out to the sales floor. Of course, by now everyone at the shop had heard what had happened, so they immediately started asking about Tariq. All through the first few hours of my shift, I was telling people that yes, the kid who fell yesterday was fine, and yes, we were able to reach his father.
Around one, Sven came in, and he didn’t even clock in before he hurried up to me. “Hey, Bren. How’s the kid?”
“He’s okay.” I patted the air. “They got the tooth back in, and now it’s just a waiting game to see if it gets infected or anything.”
“He didn’t bust anything, though?”
I shook my head. “No. They x-rayed him twice to be sure, but he’s good.”
“Man, I still feel so bad.” Sven grimaced. “I swear I thought for a sec the kid was dead.”
I shuddered. “You’re not that big.”
“No, but neither is he. You’re sure he’s good?”
“He’s fine. I talked to his dad this morning, and—”
The air pressure changed. We had all been conditioned to look when the door opened, since it could be a customer needing help, so we both turned.
And my heart stopped.
“Speak of the devil,” Sven said.
“No kidding.” I hurried across the store to Zafir and Tariq. “Hey, guys.”
Zafir smiled. “Hey.”
I looked at Tariq. “How you feeling, kid?”
He shrugged. “Eh.”
Poor kid—the
scrapes on his chin, nose, and jaw had all scabbed up and looked even worse than yesterday, and his lip was still puffy. There was even a faint bruise across his forehead, probably from his helmet hitting the pavement.
“So, um . . .” I cleared my throat. “This is . . . this is a surprise.”
Zafir rested his hand on Tariq’s shoulder. “We just came by to see how you were doing. After yesterday.”
“Me? I’m fine. I’m not the one who . . . um . . .”
“Ate shit?” Tariq said.
“What?” Zafir’s jaw dropped. “What did you say?”
Tariq looked up at him, eyes wide and innocent. “Ate shit. That’s what they say when you fall.”
Zafir shifted his gaze toward me and narrowed his eyes. “Really?”
“He didn’t get it from me. I swear.”
“Uh-huh.” He eyed Tariq. “So where did you—”
“Hey, little dude!” Sven picked just that moment to join us. “How you feeling?”
Suddenly shy, Tariq shrugged, but didn’t say anything.
“That was a gnarly spill,” Sven said. “And you’re already here? Back for more?” He put up his hand for a high five. “Tough kid!”
Tariq laughed and high-fived him.
Zafir winced. “Back for more,” he said through his teeth. “Great.”
I swallowed. “This . . . this kind of stuff doesn’t always happen.”
“That’s promising, I guess.”
Sven turned to Zafir. “Listen, um, I’m really sorry. I just looked away at the wrong time, and . . .” He gulped. “I’m sorry. If you need any help with the bills, or—”
“It’s fine.” Zafir smiled. “We’re covered. But thank you. And don’t worry about what happened.” He nodded toward Tariq. “To tell you the truth, I think he’s looking forward to showing off his battle scars at school.”
Sven threw his head back and laughed. To me, he said, “You were right, dude. That kid is born to skate.”
Zafir groaned. “Awesome. Well, maybe he could wear one of those next time?” He gestured at a rack of mouth guards.
“Yeah. I’ll order one.” I swallowed. “I, uh, didn’t have any in his size, so . . .”
“It’s okay.” His expression softened. “Quit beating yourself up, Brennan. He’s fine.”
But he could’ve been—
“I know. I’m glad I didn’t scare him away from skating though.” I winked. “Sorry.”
Zafir chuckled. “It was a valiant effort.”
I was about to come back with something smart, but the door opened again. Instinctively, I turned, and looked past Zafir right when Aimee and Billy strolled in, hand in hand.
I bristled. We’d made up, but seeing her with him still rubbed me the wrong way.
Zafir glanced over his shoulder, then back at me. “Customer?”
“Ex-girlfriend.”
He turned toward her again, and his lip twitched. Amusement? Annoyance? I had no idea. As he faced me, he said, “She comes by and visits you or something?”
“She’s a skater,” I muttered. “And we’re the only shop in town.”
He shifted his weight. “Should we, um, get going?”
“You don’t have to.”
“Actually—” He glanced at his phone. “I do need to take him home and give him another pain pill.”
I winced. “I am so—”
“I’m serious,” Zafir said. “It was an accident. And the way you handled it . . .” He smiled. “I can’t really be mad about that, can I?”
“Well, no.”
“It’s all good. I promise.” He turned to Tariq. “Come on. Let’s go get you some more drugs.”
“Okay.”
To me, Zafir said, “What time are you off tonight?”
“Six.” I paused. “Why don’t I shoot you a text when I’m done? Maybe I could take you guys both out to eat.”
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“I know. But it would make me feel a lot better about what happened.”
Zafir held my gaze. Then a faint smile pulled up the corners of his mouth, and he nodded. “Sure. Okay. I’m not working tonight. But maybe we can just hang out?” He put his arm around Tariq. “We should probably give him a few days before we take him out to eat.”
A weird mix of relief and excitement swelled in my stomach. “Okay. Perfect. I’ll see you later?”
“Definitely.”
They turned to go, and I exhaled. I did feel better after seeing Tariq up and around, and after Zafir’s reassurance that he really truly wasn’t angry. And now, all I had to do was deal with . . .
I cringed.
Aimee. And Billy.
And they were coming right this way.
He snaked an arm around her and shot me a grin. One of those grins where if I punched him in the mouth right then, there wasn’t a jury in the land that would convict me of anything except not hitting him hard enough.
Billy started to speak, but Aimee beat him to it.
“Billy.” She shot him a look. “Don’t.”
The asshole huffed like a petulant kid, then walked away. Damn. They hadn’t been together very long, and she could already order him around with a glare. Then again, maybe they’d been together longer than—
I shut that train of thought down before it could get very far. I was already annoyed that they were here. Didn’t need to work myself up. Just having her here was enough.
“So.” I cleared my throat. “What’s up?”
“We need to talk about the apartment.”
I slid my hands into my pockets. “Okay.”
“Things fell through with my roommates. I’m still looking for a place, but—”
“Where are you staying right now?”
“Um.” Her eyes flicked toward Billy, then to the floor, as if she hadn’t meant to give herself away like that.
“Never mind,” I muttered. “So, what about our place?”
She fidgeted. “I owe you for some of the bills, but . . . I kind of need first and last as a deposit for a new place.”
“What do you want to do, then?”
She avoided my eyes, her lips twisting with obvious aggravation. “Can I wait to give you the money?”
“That’s gonna leave me kind of short.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
I wanted to tell her it was her problem, that this was her mess, but the truth was, I was on better financial ground than she was. I had a smallish savings, while she was struggling to stay afloat and put herself through school.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said quietly. “Just pay me when you can.”
“Thanks. Also, I called the utility companies and had my name taken off the bills.” She took a folded check out of her purse. “This should cover my part of those for the rest of that month.”
“Thanks.” I pocketed the check without looking at the amount. “The landlord gave me a new lease with just my name. So we’re good there.”
“Okay.” She met my gaze, and my heart pounded. The weirdest part was this conversation was only slightly more awkward than the ones we’d had during the last few months of our relationship.
We really were miserable, weren’t we?
“So. Um. Anything else?”
“No. I don’t think so.” She scanned the store, and when she’d apparently found Billy—he was chatting with Sven by the counter—she said, “I’m gonna go.”
“Okay.”
It didn’t even feel weird to have her walk away without an obligatory peck on the cheek or the lips. All of that seemed like ancient history.
Good. That was how it needed to be. Time to move the fuck on.
I picked up a box of outdated magazines and started toward the back room to get rid of them. As I walked, I made the mistake of glancing at Aimee and Billy. He met my gaze, and smirked as he wrapped his arm around Aimee’s shoulders.
Smug bastard.
It didn’t hurt, though. It was what it was. Aimee
had been my girlfriend, and now she wasn’t. She’d cheated. She had him now. And I had—
My own thought startled me enough that I almost dropped the box.
She had Billy. I had . . . Zafir?
Shaking myself, I adjusted the box so I wouldn’t drop it, and took it into the back room. After I’d set it on a table, I paused to get my brain together.
Zafir was filling that gap, wasn’t he? He was the reason I’d barely spent any time thinking about Aimee, let alone pining for her or dealing with our breakup. Seeing her with Billy had only bothered me because the douche bag was obviously trying to rub it in my face. But the two of them being together didn’t make me feel, well, anything. It was like the space she used to occupy in my brain had been filled with the excitement over seeing Zafir after I got off work.
Now that I put those pieces together, I couldn’t help scratching my head and wondering how the fuck this had happened.
Not that it mattered. It had. I didn’t have a clue what was going on with him, but I liked spending time with him. I liked his kid. I liked that he knew three girls in a row had dumped me for being sexually incompetent, and he didn’t make me feel like there was something wrong with me. I liked that he still wanted to hang out even after things went south with Tariq yesterday.
I didn’t know what the hell we were doing, but I did know one thing.
I liked it.
But . . . hello. Zafir was a dude. Asexual or not, I didn’t date dudes.
Did I?
I couldn’t imagine having sex with him. All I could imagine was being with him. As much as possible. Which, now that I thought about it, was how I’d felt about Aimee in the beginning. I never had that need to get into her pants. I’d just . . . wanted to be with her. When I wasn’t with her, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. When I was with her, I couldn’t think at all.
Staring up at the ceiling, I gulped.
That was exactly what was happening with Zafir, wasn’t it?
Chapter 16
Zafir
Less than a week after his incident, Tariq was already itching to skate again. I held out until he had a clean bill of health from his dentist—no infections, no need for further work—and the splint had been removed, but about three weeks after he fell, I gave in.
