Chapter 6 Aaron #2
It isn’t until I’m pulling into a parking place around the corner from Nick’s building that I recognize how close I am to where Zack died.
The fact that he wasn’t at the top of my thoughts hits me so hard I stop moving.
Fuck. Up until two days ago when work exploded into a blizzard of meetings and phone calls and searching out new suppliers as I tried to fix the break in our supply chain, Zack was pretty much the only thing I’d thought about for the past five weeks.
I have a moment of panic as I realize I haven’t checked in with the police, I haven’t been handing out flyers.
Besides answering a few texts, I haven’t checked in with my parents or sister either.
I feel like I’ve let everyone down, and by the time I’m knocking on Nick’s door, I just want to go home and crawl into bed.
“You don’t look much better than Kit,” Nick says as he steps back from the door to let me into his place.
Running a hand through my hair, I shake my head trying not to notice how hot Nick looks in his clubbing clothes.
He’s wearing black skinny jeans that show off his long legs, a shimmery black button-down shirt that gives the illusion of being see-through.
Or, it might be see-through. I can’t tell because I force myself to look away from him and take in the compact kitchen just to my right.
“Thanks for calling me,” I say. “What happened?”
Nick closes the door and leads me past the kitchen and a small dining area which opens into a living space with a large window that overlooks Gough Street.
Kit is sprawled on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes, mouth open, clearly asleep or passed out.
The blanket Nick has covered him with is carefully tucked around him, and there’s a bottle of Gatorade on the coffee table within easy reach for when Kit wakes up.
“Is he okay?” I ask, but I don’t move away from Nick. I can feel the warmth radiating off him, and it settles something in me.
“Far as I can tell.” He shrugs. “Some friends dragged me out to Prowl tonight because I haven’t…
not since…” Another shrug as he worries at his lower lip with his front teeth.
He gestures at Kit. “Anyway…he was there, drunk or high or whatever, but obviously in no condition to give consent for anything, so we got him out of there and brought him here because it was the closest place we could think of.”
“Yeah. Thanks. He’s been having a really rough time since Zack died.”
“I get that. I don’t know what I’d do if that happened to one of my friends.”
The emotion in Nick’s voice brings my focus back to him, and I take advantage of the fact that he’s staring at Kit to really look at him.
Fuck, he’s gorgeous. I am suddenly very warm, but that’s probably because I haven’t taken off my coat and I pretty much ran here from my car.
Taking a deep breath, I give voice to the reasons I think Kit is taking everything so hard.
“He had to cancel plans with Zack that night, so he’s been blaming himself for Zack being in Hayes Valley.”
“That’s not his fault,” Nick says. “But I know how he feels.”
He purses his lips, and I know he’s thinking about his own, similar feelings about the timing of Zack’s death.
“It’s not your fault either,” I say softly, and Nick gives a small nod.
Then I give voice to the other reason for Kit’s devastation.
“I always suspected he was in love with Zack,” I say, pitching my voice low even though I’m pretty sure Kit’s still out of it.
“Zack thought the only reason to have a relationship was so you could have sex on the regular, but since he never lacked for partners…” I trail off as Nick turns to face me, and I draw in a sharp breath at the hurt I see there.
“There wasn’t anything wrong with the way Zack lived his life,” I say.
“It’s just that I think it killed Kit a bit every time Zack talked about a hookup. ”
Nick nods, shifts on his feet a bit. “You want some coffee? Tea? I don’t think he’s waking up anytime soon if you want a beer or wine.”
There’s an obvious evasion in his offer, but I tell him I’d love a cup of coffee because it gives us something to do besides watch Kit.
I follow him back to the kitchen where Nick takes a mug from the rack next to the Keurig then pops in a pod and presses a button on the machine.
He stares intently as it starts to gurgle, as if it won’t do what he wants if he doesn’t watch it closely.
When the mug’s full, he hands it to me, and our fingers brush, the shock of contact almost enough to make me jerk my hand away. I don’t. But I do pull back sharply enough that the hot coffee sloshes onto my wrist. I gasp at the surprise of it.
Nick hands me a paper towel, holding it out to me with two fingers as if he’s trying to avoid any additional contact with me. I set the mug down on the counter and dry my hand, expecting Nick to make a second cup of coffee for himself.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says instead. “Get out of these sweaty clothes.”
“Okay,” I say and try not to imagine the way he’ll look standing naked under the spray of water as he walks toward the stairs that lead to the lower level of his apartment.