7. Luka
7
LUKA
Twenty minutes later I was leaning against the back of my building and trying to ignore the swarm of bees that had taken over for the butterflies in my stomach.
Before I could get too worked up, I caught sight of Zander stepping off the path, but instead of making my nerves worse, a wave of calm washed over me, quieting some of the noise in my head.
God, he looked good. His straight-legged jeans were just loose enough that they skimmed his thick thighs and shapely calves instead of clinging to them. The black zip-up hoodie he had on was plain and also loose but contrasted nicely against his golden skin and dark features, and it made him look big and solid and hella intimidating.
“Hey,” I greeted, needing to say something, as he approached.
“Hey.” He glanced up at my building. “What floor are you on?”
“Seventh.” I pointed to my balcony. “There, three down from the center.”
“You really can see my house from your balcony.” He shook his head, a smile on his full lips. “Small world.”
“It really is.” I waved for him to follow me to the door.
He waited as I punched in my key code to get us through the security door.
“Do you mind taking the stairs?” I asked when we were in the back lobby. “The elevator is a million years old and smells like death.”
He wrinkled his nose. “The stairs are fine.”
Silently, we climbed the seven flights to my floor and didn’t say a word to each other until we were inside my apartment.
“So, this is my place,” I said nervously—and unnecessarily.
He glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in the small space.
My apartment wasn’t much different from most around here. The front door opened into a small hallway with a closet next to the door. Directly to the left of the hallway was my living room, which was connected to the kitchen and a small dining area. My bedroom, the bathroom, and a small linen closet were to the right of the hallway.
“How long have you lived here?” Zander asked, toeing off his shoes.
I did the same. “Four years.”
“Do you like it?” His dark eyes met mine.
I shrugged and motioned for him to follow me into the living room. “It’s fine. My neighbors like to fight and have a thing for loud make-up sex, so it’s entertaining.”
He chuckled. “Which neighbors?”
“Those ones.” I pointed to the left. “The ones who live there,” I pointed to the right, “smoke a lot of weed and blast their music at all hours. Not as entertaining, but not the worst.”
“Is it at least good music?” he asked.
“Some of it. They’re a little chaotic when it comes to their tunes. One of them loves to blast sappy love ballads in the mornings. That I’m not a fan of. Oh, here’s another small world thing. They love Vessel.”
“Vessel? Like Sebastian’s old band?” Zander asked, settling himself on one end of my couch.
Jesse’s boyfriend used to be the frontman of a metal band but had moved back home after the band broke up earlier this year. It was still surreal to think that Jesse was dating a celebrity, even if he was retired now, but Bas was a super nice guy and incredibly humble considering how successful he’d been.
“Yeah.” I sat down on the other side of the couch. “Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah. And here I thought living next to an accordion player was bad.”
“I’m sorry, an accordion player?” I asked.
He nodded. “It’s not so bad in the colder months because he keeps his windows closed, but the nighttime serenades all summer aren’t my cup of tea.”
“What about on your other side?”
“They’re fine. Could do without their dogs howling and barking all day and night, but dogs are a hell of a lot less annoying than hearing the same song on the accordion for an hour straight.”
“I’ll bet.” I leaned back against the couch, finally relaxing. “How long have you lived there?”
“Just over eight years.”
My brain sort of short-circuited.
The subdivision behind my building was full of townhouses and small, single-family homes on tiny lots. They weren’t insanely expensive, especially compared to a lot of the areas in the city, but they were still way out of reach for most people. Did he rent? He must. Even with what the prices were eight years ago, there was no way a twenty-one-year-old could afford to buy a house there, right?
“Wow,” I said quickly. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed my brain glitch. “Do you want anything from the kitchen?”
He crossed his ankles in front of him. “Are you getting anything?”
“I was thinking about grabbing a beer. But I’ve also got water, milk, and cranberry juice.”
He smiled shyly. “A beer would be great, thanks.”
I went to grab a couple of drinks, and when I came back, the unmistakable smell of weed lingered in the air.
“Your neighbors?” He took the bottle I handed him.
“Yup. Right on schedule too.” I sat back on the couch. “Do you partake in 420? I’m a fan myself, but I get that a lot of people aren’t.”
“I actually prefer it to drinking.” He studied the bottle.
“You do?”
He nodded, his eyes still on the label of his drink. “I grew up around a lot of drinking and seeing the adults in my life act like idiots every time they had a few stuck with me. And the no hangovers thing is a nice bonus.”
“Yeah, I’m a big fan of that.” I bit my lip. He’d shared something personal; maybe I could talk to him about a little of what was bothering me. “My friends drink a lot,” I said slowly.
“They do?” he asked when I fell silent.
“Yeah.” I picked at the label on my bottle. “I played hockey growing up, so partying and drinking was just what we did. Then we all graduated and started working and drifted apart. I found a new group of friends, and they drink just as much as my old hockey buddies. I didn’t really mind because that’s what I was used to, but I’m not really feeling that scene anymore.” I snuck a glance at him.
He smiled encouragingly, and that simple look helped wipe away the last of my doubt. I might not know Zander well, but he was a good person, and he was willing to listen. He wouldn’t judge me.
“Like, the last time we went out I was told we were going to the bar to have a few drinks and maybe watch the game if it was playing. I got there and everyone was already on their fourth or fifth drink, and I spent the next two hours watching them get sloppy drunk and wishing I was anywhere else but there.”
“I like my friends,” I continued. “We’ve been tight for eight years, but I feel like I’m not really a part of them anymore.”
“You don’t?” he asked softly when I paused again.
“No. It’s been happening for a while, but it’s gotten worse in the last few months.” I sighed and took a sip of my drink. “Being on a completely different schedule from everyone sucks.”
“Yeah, that can be tough to get used to. Is it just your schedules that are creating this distance?” he asked.
I shook my head and sipped more of my drink. “I hooked up with someone in my friend group a while ago. It wasn’t serious, at least it wasn’t supposed to be, but things got messy when I ended it. She’s dating someone else, but it’s like we can’t be in the same room without there being all this crazy tension. I guess it’s pissing everyone off because I get left out of a lot of plans if she’s going to be there.”
“That has to hurt.”
“It does. I knew things would be awkward for a bit, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.”
“You said it wasn’t serious with her. Did you date, or was it a casual thing?”
“Casual. It was supposed to be a friend’s with benefits arrangement.”
“And she ended up wanting more?”
“Yup.” I sighed. “I didn’t know this at the time, but apparently she had feelings for me before we got together, and I really hurt her when I broke things off.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Over six months.”
“And she’s dating someone now?”
I nodded. “They’ve been together for about three months now, and he acts like I’m some sort of predator, or like I’m going to try and steal her away from him whenever we’re in the same place. And instead of telling him to chill out or her to get over it, everyone acts like I’m the bad guy. And the worst part is that she’s really close with my best friend’s girlfriend, so he just lets everyone treat me like I’m some sort of villain because standing up for me would make waves with her.”
“Have you talked to him about this?”
My eyes landed on where he was running his finger over the rim of his bottle in a slow circle.
Zander had nice hands with long fingers, a wide palm, and a liberal sprinkling of dark hair on the back. They looked strong and capable, and I’d imagined what they’d look like wrapped around my dick more times than I’d ever admit.
“I’ve tried.” I tore my gaze from his hands, my neck and chest hot under my sweater. “But I’m not good at confrontation, not when it comes to my friends or family. I can put strangers in their place like it’s my job, but I can’t tell the people in my inner circle what I’m feeling or what I want without panicking.”
“Panicking like being afraid or having a panic attack?”
“Both.”
“Do you have anxiety?”
I nodded.
Zander’s expression was sympathetic. “It sounds like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
“Yup.” I sighed and drank a few gulps of my beer. “It wouldn’t be so bad if my friends were the only things stressing me out, but of course I’ve got crap going on with my family and just life in general. It’s all dogpiling on me, and my anxiety is so much worse than usual. That’s why I’ve been such a mess at work. It’s like living in a constant state of hypervigilance, like I’m expecting to be attacked at any given moment. I’m not sleeping well, I’m not eating right, and I spend so much time thinking in circles and catastrophizing everything that I can’t relax because my head is too busy.” I drained the last of my beer. “All that makes my anxiety worse, and it’s like a vicious cycle I can’t break free from.”
“Are you on medication or anything for it?”
“No. I tried a bunch when I was younger, but none of them helped. And I’m not like this all the time. Just when I’m stressed or have a lot going on.” I put my bottle on the coffee table, embarrassment sweeping through me. “Sorry.”
“Sorry?” he asked. “What for?”
“For unloading all that on you.” I scrubbed a hand through my hair. “You’re easy to talk to.”
He smiled. “I’m a good listener.”
“You really are. I told you more in the last however many minutes than I’ve told anyone in my life in forever.”
“Did it help?”
I nodded. Nothing had been solved, and I wasn’t any closer to finding solutions to my problems, but I felt better. Lighter, and like I wasn’t so alone.
“I’m glad.” He smiled. “And don’t feel bad for unloading on me or whatever. I asked if you needed to talk, remember? You’re not burdening me or putting too much on me or anything like that. You needed someone to listen, and I’m happy to be that person.”
“Thanks.” My chest tightened at his kind expression. He really was an awesome guy, and it felt like we were becoming friends. “I feel a lot better now.”
He smiled and tipped his head back to finish what was left in his bottle.
I’d been so busy talking I hadn’t noticed he’d almost finished his drink.
My eyes fell to his throat as he swallowed, my body tightening as I watched the bob of his Adam’s apple and the way the muscles worked.
I tore my gaze from his throat, my cheeks heating uncomfortably. “Do you want another one?” I asked.
Having another drink right now probably wasn’t the best idea, but I wasn’t ready for the night to end. I wanted to hang out with him a bit longer, even if it was a mistake.