5. Seth
Seth
“You’re fucking with me now, Diaz?” Kit’s voice rumbles through the garage.
The smell of gasoline and turpentine seeps into my nose as I walk around a pillar and catch Kit pinching the bridge of his nose. Diaz’s leaning against his bike, arms crossed.
“Sorry, papi,” he says, shrugging slightly. “Marisol’s homesick.”
“Marisol?” Kit says. “You’re moving 700 miles for some chick you’ve known for, what? Two months?”
“Five.”
“Fuck!” Kit throws a rag on the seat of a black Ducati, sighing.
I walk up next to Diaz. “When are you leaving?”
He turns to face me, and clasps a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, muchachito! Next month.”
“Next month?” Kit barks. “As in… next week?” Diaz shoots him a smug grin in answer. “You’re killing me, Diaz. You’re killing me.”
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Where’re you going?”
“Santa Cruz, baby!” he exclaims, throwing up his hand for a high five.
I raise mine but then I pull a fast one and smack him where it hurts.
He bends over and wheezes before he snarls a laugh, straightens and puts me in a headlock.
I kick his shin until he lets go, but then he swirls around and puts me in a chokehold instead.
“Mm, yeah, choke me, Daddy,” I faux-moan.
“Pendejo!” He laughs and lets me go with a flick to my head.
I laugh. “You know I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
He ruffles my hair and places an arm around my shoulders.
I don’t know how we ended up here—I was terrified of him when I first started here. With the buzz cut, ears filled with piercings and the snake tattoo covering most of the left side of his neck, and his huge build, he looks so much scarier than he is.
But I guess I’m one to talk. I know better than anyone that looks can be deceiving.
“Next week,” Kit mumbles again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And you thought a week was enough of a notice?”
“You’ll be fine, jefe. You’ve got Chip and Dale,” Diaz says, referring to me and Kaden. “And Bichito,” he adds, meaning Iggy.
You could probably make a whole new dictionary of all the nicknames he’s given us over the years. Always coming up with new ones. But Chip and Dale somehow stuck. He says it’s because you never see one without the other. It’s always me and Kaden together.
Kit sighs and crouches down in front of his bike again. “Fuck you, Diaz,” he says without any heat.
Diaz laughs and ruffles my hair again before he releases me, grabs his helmet and walks over to his bike.
“Stay good, kid,” he says. The garage door behind him slowly rises, letting some sunlight peek in, as he backs the bike out before he revs the engine and drives off.
“So, what does this mean?” I ask, moving over to the table where Kit keeps all his tools. He sighs again; eyes fixed on the bike.
“I’ll deal with it,” is all he says.
I nod, steal a piece of candy from the open drawer and pop it into my mouth. “You hiring someone new?”
“I’ll deal with it,” he says again, and that’s the end of that conversation. He rises to his feet and turns towards me, raising a brow. I raise mine back and he shakes his head.
“Did you want something?” he says.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, shifting on the counter. “Can I borrow the Ducati?”
“What?!” he barks, head pushed forward.
“The Ducati? Can I borrow it? I need to—”
He cuts me off with a laugh, so I cross my arms, waiting him out.
Finally, he says, “Seriously, what did you want?”
I raise my brows.
“You outta your mind?” he says, eyebrows up to his hairline. “No. Seth. No. Absolutely not! No. Not in a million—no. No. No.” Each word is punctuated by a fast shake of his head.
“Was that a no, or…?”
“No. You can never, ever borrow the Ducati, Seth. Ever.”
We stare at each other for a beat. Then he shakes his head again before he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “You can take the pickup.”
And that’s how you anchor a negotiation.
I give him a lopsided grin.
“You little shit,” he says, shaking his head but I catch a smile before he turns around.
“Kit?”
He turns his head slightly.
“Thanks, boo,” I say, smacking a kiss his way.
“Get outta here,” he waves at me.
I grab the keys to the pickup before I walk back to the studio.
Kaden’s ringing up Jude at the counter, so I flop down on one of the couches in the waiting area, planting my feet wide apart on the ginormous Persian rug and grabbing a flash binder from the coffee table. I absently flip through it as Kaden walks Jude over to the door.
“Alright, so, you know the drill by now,” Kaden says. “Keep the plastic on for the next two days. After that…”
“Wash with gentle soap morning and night. Apply a thin layer of ointment,” Jude finishes.
“Good man!” Kaden smiles, opening the door to let him out. “Let me know if anything feels off.”
He strides over to the bathroom and washes his hands before he comes back. The keychain on the belt loop of his jeans clatter against his leg with every step, and when he stretches, the hem of his tee rides up, presenting me a sliver of skin just above the waistline.
And I try not to look but it’s a lost cause. And I hate myself for it.
It’s the gay curse—having a straight best friend who’s also the man of your dreams.
I do my very best to keep it under wraps, and I have for years. No one knows a thing. And I intend on keeping it that way until it passes.
It’s just that, ever since COVID hit, and he and Tara broke up, and he quit the band, we’ve been spending more time together, and the proximity is starting to get to me. I can’t catch a break. He’s everywhere all the time, and I don’t hate it. I don’t, I just… I can’t catch a break.
And now he’s stretching that sinful body right in front of me.
That bit of skin is right. Fucking. There.
I want to lick it.
I want to peel his clothes off, one piece at a time, and lick all over his six feet two body—from his stubbled jaw to his neck, down his broad shoulders, that narrow waist, and his ass.
I want to push my fingers through his dark, shiny hair, and make him—Jesus fuck, I’m unhinged!
“You okay?” Kaden frowns and drops down on the other couch.
Awesome. He caught me drooling over an inch of skin. Cool.
No, really, I’m a creep. Someone should lock me up. Or bleach my eyes, or something. I hate this.
I clear my throat, trying to save face, but then I look into his dark green eyes, framed by black lashes and thick, dark brows. And it’s like he was put on this earth to torture me. Look but don’t touch. It’s a fucking punishment if I ever saw one.
“Seth?”
“Yeah?” I say, with an awfully high-pitched voice, so I clear my throat again. “Yeah, fuck, sorry!” I laugh. “Totally blacked out.”
There. Nice save.
He frowns, slowly chewing on a piece of gum. “Did you hear Diaz’s leaving?”
“Yeah, I heard,” I say, putting the flash binder back on the table. “I’m thinking we should throw him a little going away thing.”
“Sounds good,” he nods.
“Yeah? You think your mom can make something? I know he likes carrot cake.”
“Yeah, I can talk to her.” He bites his bottom lip, squinting his eyes a little before he adds, “You think Kit will bring someone else in?”
I scrunch my nose. “Nah, not now at least. Maybe when all of this is over.”
Kaden nods, tapping his fingers on his knee in beat to “Fell On Black Days” by Soundgarden streaming through the speakers.
“How’d it go with the pickup?”
I pull the keys from my pocket, dangling them in front of him.
He snorts, shaking his head. “What’d you offer him? Your soul?”
“Babe,” I say, waving vaguely at myself. “Already sold it for the looks. Keep up!”
Kaden’s squinting at me, checking me out, and the skin on my neck prickles at the attention. I know he’s not checking me out, like that but like I said, I can’t catch a break.
“Seems you’ve been ripped off then.” He shrugs with a grin.
Yep, robbed blind for nothing.
I snort. “Uno reverse!”
“Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense.” He shakes his head.
“You don’t make any sense.”
“Wow, strong with this one, the comebacks are,” he says, doing a surprisingly good Yoda impression. Because why wouldn’t he?
I grin as I flip him the bird and he laughs.
“So,” he tacks on. “If it wasn’t your soul, then I’m gonna assume you stole the keys, and in that case, no, I’m not bailing you out—”
“Wow, you really hate me.”
“—But yes, if worse comes to worst, I’ll throw you a really nice funeral.”
“Aw,” I place a hand over my heart. “You do love me. Thanks, babe!”
He makes a small hand gesture like “you’re welcome”.
“But, your assumption is incorrect, my dude. No need for stealing when you’ve got something he wants.”
“Which is?”
I pump my brows. “My v-card.”
Kaden throws his head back and laughs, making the moth on his throat look like it’s flapping its wings, taunting me. I allow myself two seconds of staring at him before I shift my gaze.