Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
KENNEDY
“It still makes absolutely no sense to me,” I confess. When Ziggy didn’t show up the day after our, uh, moment, I was worried we were back to him avoiding me, so when he walked in this morning, I didn’t play it anywhere near as cool as I should have.
Ziggy trails his finger back along the wire, then points at where one of the lights will be. I’ve still got nothing. I widen my eyes at him, trying to convey my confusion without words. Communicating without talking really isn’t as easy as he makes it look.
Case in point: the really? look he sends my way.
I give him a halfhearted shrug that I’m hoping says, I’m clueless, what can you do?
He studies me for so long I worry that he didn’t read me right, but then his gaze dips back to the red wire, and he runs his finger down the length again. “It’s a trail. Leading the electricity from one point to the next.”
“Ohh …” There are a lot of trails though, and while Ziggy obviously knows what he’s doing in here, I’m clueless.
Hammering comes from next door, where Hudson is working, and I think he’s picked up enough to know that when Ziggy’s here, he shouldn’t be.
I’m hopeful that it won’t always be like this, but after how they met, there’s a distinct change in Ziggy when Hudson’s around. Like he closes himself off even more.
This, right here, is the Ziggy I like the most. Confident and teasing. It’s killing me not to know the thoughts going through his mind after the other night, but he’s doing exactly what we agreed to. Back to friends. Totally normal. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Except that’s a fucking lie because every time he’s not looking at me, I’m looking at him.
And I’m looking looking. He doesn’t give much away under his clothes.
They hang off him, almost like he’s raided Wilde’s wardrobe and never bought a thing for himself.
The T-shirts hang off him like a sack, and his pants are bunched up and pulled in tight at his waist. Even that doesn’t stop me.
Because I can still glimpse the smooth dip of his neck every time his hair shifts, can still see his capable hands and remember the way they felt wrapped around my dick.
And whenever I catch a glint of that tongue piercing, it’s like I can feel the smooth metal rolling over my cockhead.
For a man who was certain that friends were the way to go, my brain has a lot to answer for.
Especially when he groans, hands pressed to his lower back as he arches it, and all I can see is the way his hips tilt forward and picture the cock I know is nestled inside.
I really need to get over this. I yank my eyes away from him and pace toward the back of the house, looking out toward the hill towering over the town. The hill is pretty. Special. Lots and lots of trees. A very great, wonderful thing to look at. That isn’t Ziggy.
Because I’ve gone and overestimated myself.
I might have been able to be friends with him for this long because I didn’t know he was interested in me, but now I know, it’s like the chains are off.
Everything he does is designed to make my brain get stuck on him.
He’s beautiful, inside and out. The kind of man I could see myself settling down with and—
No.
No, no.
Fucking stop it.
I’m half a second away from thumping myself in the forehead to wake up any sleeping brain cells. I always do this. There’s interest, so that must mean it’s forever. I’m not diving into those thoughts again.
Just because I want to walk up behind him, press him against the wall with my body, and trail kisses down his neck doesn’t mean I have to do that.
No matter how happy and bubbly it makes my gut to think about it.
Being friends with him is important to me because I think I could learn a lot from him. Not about electricals, because I’m hopeless there, but his calm energy, the way he doesn’t force his thoughts into every opening, and how he lives completely in the moment are all things I respect.
They’re also things I’m terrible at myself. I always have to be moving, or talking, or making things happen around me. The loudness hides the loneliness, and it’s been working for me so far.
Ziggy’s lonely too though, and he doesn’t feel the need to do all that.
Besides being insanely attracted to him, I also admire him a whole hell of a lot.
So I can’t screw this up. Knowing me, I will, but the least I can do is put in some effort to keep things friendly. To make sure that we have each other, because I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t want to lose him.
A hand on my arm makes me jump a mile, and I turn to find Ziggy’s bemused expression.
“I was thinking,” I say, defending my over-the-top reaction.
Sure you were.
At least, that’s what I think he’s saying, and it’s nice to be getting more confident at reading him.
It’s also nice to see less hesitation and nervousness around me.
If I had to guess, I’d say that having sex has loosened him up when it comes to me.
I guess once you get naked with someone, there isn’t a whole lot left to be self-conscious about.
“How’s the wiring going?” I ask to move on from the jump scare.
Good. Ziggy points to the wall that has wiring running through it.
“All done?”
He nods and points to two others, indicating that he hasn’t started them yet.
“When do you think you’ll have time to do them?” I’m conscious of not pushing or asking for too much. The last thing I want is for Ziggy to think we’re taking advantage of him, even though he’s the one who didn’t want to be paid.
When he doesn’t answer, I’m about to jump in and remind him that he doesn’t have to, but the determined expression he’s wearing makes me pause. His mouth moves, and it occurs to me, way too slowly, that he wants to answer.
Which means I have to give him time.
I’m not good with being patient and letting silences happen, but if I want to be as good a friend to Ziggy as he is to me, I need to learn. What he needs matters as much as what I need.
“Hopefully tomorrow,” he mutters.
“Tomorrow works for me.”
His deep brown eyes meet mine, and they’re shining with something I can’t place. “Good.” I’m not sure what gives me the impression, but there’s something almost cocky in the way he watches me. Like he’s waiting for something.
The longer we hold eye contact, the drier my mouth becomes until it’s like I’m trying to swallow the Sahara. I’m very seriously starting to doubt that I’m built for friends, because I know keeping things platonic is for the best, it’s the smarter option … but I don’t want to be smart.
I want to remember what his lips taste like and how he moans and squirms with my hands on him.
“Kenny …”
My gut twists with my name, loving how he says it. “Don’t say my name.”
He blinks through confusion, and I hurry to clarify.
“Because it makes me want to do things to you that I shouldn’t.” To be even clearer, I add, “Again.”
I’m not expecting the slow smile that stretches across his face. He steps closer, one hand finding my arm again as he leans in so his lips are hovering by my ear.
A shiver races down my back before he’s even said a word.
“Kennedy.”
His scratchy, soft tone has a pool of want building in my gut. It would be too easy to take his hand and tug him closer, chest-to-chest, face-to-face, my hands cupping his throat as I pull him in for a kiss.
Alarm bells sound like a family of birds at sunrise, and I groan as I pull away from him.
The stern look I give him isn’t as effective when my cock is this hard. “You’re not helping.”
His innocent expression looks genuine, but I know better. At least, I’m starting to.
Ziggy isn’t the sweet, shy guy I first thought he was.
And fuck, it makes me like him even more. I want to explore that side of him and see how far it goes.
I don’t realize I’ve stepped forward again until his eyebrows lift in interest.
“Wait. No. Dammit. You’re messing with my head.”
His laugh is almost enough to make me say screw it, but I hold strong.
It’s only been two days since we slept together, so of course my wires are bound to be crossed.
And twisted. And knotted beyond recognition.
My body remembers his body being responsible for one hell of an orgasm, so biology—probably—is trying to make it happen again.
After a little bit of distance, friends won’t be an issue.
We enjoy each other’s company enough to wait it out. To get through this rocky patch. So long as I manage to survive my instincts.
This will be the one relationship I don’t mess up by being tunnel-visioned on the future.
Friends.
We’re friends.
Good friends.
If I say it enough, maybe in sixty years, it will stick.