Chapter 7 #3
“That coming from you? Ouch.” Sami pressed his hand on his chest before his signature shit-eating grin broke through. “What can I say, I had a feeling you were hot under all these layers. Glad to see I’m right.”
He had thought about Baz naked? Not that Baz cared.
“Keep it in your pants, Adam.”
“Kind of sad I didn’t spill more on yours. Next time.”
…Next time?
“Better hope there won’t be one.”
“Guess I’ll have to think of a different way to get you out of them then.”
Baz froze. His lower body tingled treacherously—nothing but the adrenaline, of course.
“Don’t waste your time,” Baz deadpanned and pulled the polyester abomination over his shoulders. If this thing gave him a rash, he’d kill Sami.
“Would it be a waste? I’m hot under these layers too.”
The memory of Sami in that lacey, see-through shirt forced its way into his mind. The exposed skin, the hint of chest hair… Baz shook his head. A pretty face did not make up for a rotten soul.
“In your dreams.”
“More like in yours. Don’t tell me you didn’t think about it.”
Baz refused to give him the satisfaction of arguing about who dreamed about who.
The ‘shirt’ was at least a size too big. A horrible choice with the red tie, too, but it did clear the incredibly low bar of not being stained with coffee. With his suit jacket buttoned closed, it was tolerable enough that the judge shouldn’t object. That was the best Baz could ask for right now.
He stuffed his ruined shirt into the paper bag. That, along with his coat, would go to the cloakroom. And still, five minutes to spare.
He twirled his wrists, tapped his fingertips against each other until he felt the nervous buzz settle down. This disaster had proven to not be quite so irreparable after all. He hated to say it, but…
“Thanks, I guess. For doing the bare minimum.”
Sami’s chest puffed out. His face lit up, shining brighter than the golden rays of the morning sun, suffusing the whole bathroom in his light. “Don’t mention it. Just break a leg.”
“I don’t need luck.” Any idiot could win this claim. Probably why Sullivan had given it to Collin.
“No, I mean, literally. Go break a leg or something,” Sami said as nonchalant as if he had informed Baz who won last night’s football match. And despite it being a surefire sign that he was losing his mind, Baz snorted. ‘Normal’ clearly wasn’t Sami’s style.
Baz kind of respected his boldness. If Sami wanted to play, fine. Baz had some aces up his sleeve too.
“That would be unfortunate for you,” he said and straightened out his tie.
“Why’s that?”
Baz stepped closer, forcing Sami to look up at him to keep their eyes locked. Four inches had never been this enjoyable.
“A cast would make it harder for you to get my pants off.”
Sami’s mouth dropped into a perfect ‘o.’ No sound came out. Speechless was an excellent color on him.
After a victorious wink, he left Sami to pick up his jaw.
Baz left the bag in the cloakroom, then collected Mrs. Tuffin and ushered her inside the courtroom with two minutes to spare. Seven, in the end, with court running behind.
Two sentences, a quick show of the video, and boom: Mrs. Tuffin got her six hundred dollars. Baz got another earful about her oh-so-genius granddaughter, and then, he parted ways with another happy client.
He hated to admit it, but without Sami, it wouldn’t have gone so smoothly. Well, without Sami, there would have been no emergency in the first place, but still. This was a strangely nice thing to do for a horrible person who had declared war on him only a week ago.
Stranger yet were the messages he found on his phone afterward.
Unknown Number
FYI several people in the courtroom commented on how fashion conscious you were in that shirt
the old lady was DROOLING over you
youre welcome <3
Baz shook his head, chuckled even, while rolling his eyes. Ridiculous much.
He saved the number under Annoying Stalker. Who knew when it might come in handy again.
Baz bobbed a pencil between two fingers, slumping into his office chair. Something about Sami being the bigger person today didn’t sit right with him. Likely the part where Baz had failed to do the same, the part where he had blown up at Eevee and stormed out instead of hearing her out.
He was better than that. Hell, he wanted to be better than that. And if Sami-fucking-Adam could come through for him in a moment of need…
Baz had some making up to do.
The tree-lined streets of Hyde Park felt like home.
For nearly ten years, they had been. Him, Eevee, and Joel, all working shitty jobs to cover the rent of their two-bedroom apartment; Joel’s parents had chipped in when necessary, which it barely ever was.
The three of them always made do. None of it would have been necessary if Jack hadn’t been the worst father ever, but that wasn’t the part of the story Baz chose to focus on today, for Eevee’s sake.
He parked in his usual spot, under the tree with the low hanging vines and rugged bark, right in front of their building.
He knocked on the door of apartment 4c instead of using the key Eevee had refused to take back; no good negotiation ever began with an ambush.
Joel opened up in no time, dressed in a black crew neck and dark gray sweatpants. “Oh, thank god. I’m so glad you’re here, man.”
Now there was a greeting Baz could get used to.
“Hey. Is she here?”
“Living room. I was about to call you myself to get y’all to stop sulking.”
An arrow pierced through Baz’s heart. Not just him who’d had a rough weekend, then. Hurting Eevee was never acceptable, no matter how little Baz thought of her choices.
She sat with her knees pulled to her chest on the worn-out brown leather couch that they had hoisted up the four flights of stairs years ago, full of memories and snack remnants of their many movie nights. Eevee stared at the rustling trees dancing in the wind on the other side of the window.
“Hi,” Baz tried.
Her eyes flicked to him for less than a heartbeat. She curled tighter into herself.
“Hello.”
Silence.
“I’ll give you two a moment.” With that, Joel disappeared into the kitchen. Out of sight, albeit in full earshot thanks to the paper-thin walls, but the intention was noble.
Baz shifted his weight to his right foot; the dark wood creaked and wobbled underneath him. The wedding picture on the side table shimmered gray with the dust sitting on top of it.
“If I hadn’t told you and you’d found out later, you’d be just as mad,” Eevee declared then. Oh, gee, if only there was a way out of that dilemma. Like not succumbing to Jack Hadley’s toxicity again in the first place.
Aya’s voice echoed in his mind: Are you really gonna let him come between you now? The answer was no. Baz forced the budding anger down.
“Are you sure talking to Jack is a good idea?”
Eevee jumped to her feet. “I’m sorry you’re upset, but I’m a grown woman, Baz! I get to talk to whoever I want, whether my little brother approves or not.”
Why did everyone feel the need to remind him of that? This wasn’t about pleasing him or stripping Eevee of her autonomy, it was about self-preservation.
“I know. But I don’t want him to hurt you again the way he did before.”
“He won’t. Because I’m not a sixteen-year-old kid who depends on him anymore, and neither are you. He has no power over us unless we give it to him. You think I would have accepted his call if I didn’t know for a fact that my life is so good that nothing he says will ruin it?”
That was a dangerous underestimation. Who knew what new manipulative tricks Jack had learned?
“Eevee—”
“We spoke for barely five minutes! He just kept apologizing and asked if I could give him a second chance. I told him I’d think about it. That’s it.”
Baz swallowed any reprimands, all reminders of how this could end in disaster. If Sami had shown him one thing today, it was that not everything was as doomed as it seemed.
God, getting life lessons from Sami-fucking-Adam. He’d have a crisis about that later.
“And will you? Meet him?”
“If I will, are you gonna hate me?”
“I’d never hate you.” She must know that, or Baz truly was the worst brother ever.
Eevee’s fingers tightened around the side of his hands. “If you aren’t ready, that’s okay. I won’t mention him again. But I want to get closure.”
She had already made up her mind then. Baz closed his eyes and sighed.
Accepting her terrible decision would be no easy feat, but he supposed all he could do was be there for her when it backfired.
“No. Do tell me. If he hurts you again, I want to know. He isn’t allowed to get away with that again. He’ll have to face both our wraths.”
“Deal.” Eevee’s lower lip pushed forward. Her eyes grew impossibly round, melting all his remaining objections into mush.
He pulled her against his chest. Eevee’s arms slung around his neck in return. Her chin dug into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry I got mad,” Baz whispered.
“I knew you would. You’re always looking out for me.” She pulled back just enough so that Baz could see her smile. The tension bled from his shoulders, made him feel five pounds lighter. “But whatever happens, you and me, right?”
“You and me,” he agreed. He’d count on that for the rest of their lives.
“Are we all friends again…?” That was Joel, poking his head out of the kitchen.
“Yes,” Eevee chuckled. “We’re okay.”
“Good. I’m making dinner. Care to join, Baz?”
Moving on without a grudge was one of Joel’s best qualities. Eevee’s too. Just another way in which they were perfect for each other.
“You know I can’t pass up on that offer.”
The way Joel nodded, he didn’t just know it, he took pride in it too.
“Interesting shirt, by the way,” Eevee remarked, fixing Baz’s collar and smoothing out one of the many crinkles as if that would make the baby-blue abomination any more presentable.
“Long story.”
“I’m listening.”
Well, if she insisted. There was so much they hadn’t had a chance to talk about yet.
He started with the case, the doors that might open for him, then told them all about the annoying opposing counsel who had drenched him in coffee.
Neither Joel nor Eevee volunteered conspiracy theories about Sami having masterminded this.
Baz was about ready to believe their run-in had just been a coincidence, too.
A weird one, sure, but what else was new with Sami?
He was bold and rude and unapologetically flirtatious. Baz wished he knew whether he meant it or whether he was playing a game. Either way, the fact that he had helped Baz out when most others would have left him to his misery hadn’t been terrible of him.
Though, obviously, one nicety didn’t mean Sami wasn’t also every bit the awful person Baz had pegged him to be. Really, getting some thrift shop shirt was sabotage in its own way.
Still, it had been a sweet gesture.