6. Kai
CHAPTER SIX
KAI
I was up before seven. Even a round of Extreme Sudoku couldn’t clear my head, so I gave up and went downstairs to lift weights, arguing with myself the whole time about canceling lunch. My thoughts went in circles for hours, which was stupid because I always knew I’d keep the date.
Inviting Oskar was a mistake. Liking him is an even bigger one. I know exactly where this road ends, and I don’t want to be there again. So I made a plan—a nice lunch followed by a friendly goodbye. He’s new in the city, so ghosting him would be rude. But after today, I’m done.
I got here early to claim a shady spot under the trees before they’re all taken. Oskar’s skin is fair enough to burn in minutes, so I don’t want him stuck in the full sun. It’s a good thing I brought a fidget toy, or I’d have lost my shit by now. Where the hell did this mess even come from?
A frisbee gets away from two guys playing nearby, and I catch it and flick it back. I almost ask if I can join them. After the morning I’ve had, I could use a distraction.
My phone buzzes with the 11:45 alarm I set for the picnic. I barely have time to turn it off before someone calls my name. Oskar’s walking across the grass, carrying a huge paper bag and waving like he’s trying to flag down a rescue boat. His grin seems bigger than his face.
“Oskar!” I jump up and wave back before I realize what I’m doing.
Too loud. Too happy.
One more reason this has to be the last time.
He breaks into a trot and drops the bag as soon as he reaches me.
With his flailing arms and me bouncing on my toes, we probably look like two rookies squaring up for our first fight.
When I clock that he wants a hug, something in me pulls away, and I clap him on the arm instead.
As his shoulders sag, I regret it and pat his other arm, hoping that will make things better.
When he bites his lip, I forget my plan and wrap my arms around him. The tightness in my chest loosens, something that only seems to happen when he’s around.
Noted and filed away. That relaxation in my chest is the danger. The road I can’t take again.
“You look great,” he says as we sit down.
“Thanks. You too.” The words are out before I can stop them.
His smile widens, and fuck me, he has dimples. How did I not notice those before? Dimples are a known weakness of mine, so he’s deployed two powerful weapons.
“It is not as hot today,” he says.
“We’re lucky. You run hot enough to take out the whole park.”
No. I shouldn’t be flirting like this.
Today is supposed to be a goodbye lunch, so I need to get my head on straight.
He lowers his sunglasses and gives me a smug look. “Funny. I was thinking the same about you. You are quite sexy.”
Needing to shift gears immediately, I hand him back the smirk. “You’ve regressed, I see.”
He pushes his glasses up. “That means gone backward? How have I done this?”
I tick off examples on my fingers. “‘It is not as hot,’ ‘you are quite sexy,’ and ‘how have I done this?’”
He throws his head back and laughs, a deep rumble I feel inside. Now I have another problem: I want to keep making it happen.
He taps my knee. “Excuse me, tutor. It’s not as hot, you’re quite sexy, and how’ve I done this? Also, big yikes on ‘gone backward,’ bruh.”
We both laugh this time. As it dies down, he slides his hand across the blanket and brushes his fingers over mine. It’s quick, but it sends a jolt through me.
“I will do better,” he says.
I wink, already knowing I’ll regret it. “No problem. I’ll keep you in line.”
He shifts, and his pecs twitch under his snug polo. My brain ignores today’s agenda, and I remember the night Oskar and I spent together. I loved how he filled me so completely I had to let go of everything else.
Thinking about it makes my shorts feel tight.
“Kai?”
When I look over, he’s watching like he knows exactly what I was thinking.
“Brought a ton of food,” I say, tapping the box next to me. “Hope you’re hungry.”
He nods at his bag. “I bought some too, tutor. What’d you bring?”
I giggle. I fucking giggle. Mortifying. “Good. You’re catching on.” I name things as I pull them out of the box. “Grilled chicken wraps, raw veggies, watermelon, almonds, San Pellegrino.”
He whistles. “Did you wake up at dawn to make all this?”
“No.” Here comes the control-freak reveal, but since he’s already seen me naked and begging, a few obsessive habits shouldn’t matter. “I plan meals ahead and only cook once a week.”
“Of course you do.”
He’s back to being snarky, so I point at his bag. “What’s in there, smartass?”
“I am here to save the day.” He brings out an entire fried chicken dinner.
“How do you look like that and eat like this?” I ask, trying to sound chirpy but really wanting to know.
“I do not always eat like this. Today is special.” He gives me a look. “And now I understand something else about you.”
“What’s that?”
“We have two ways of thinking about food. I bring joy. You bring punishment.”
I scoff loud enough for the frisbee guys to hear. “Yours smells like a heart attack waiting to happen.”
Oskar shows off his dimples again. “You are only jealous that my lunch has personality. Don’t worry, you do not have to eat any of it.”
My stomach growls, right on cue.
He tries not to laugh but loses the battle, and I end up joining in. Soon my abs hurt, and then my face does too. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.
This isn’t part of the plan at all.
We’ve just divided the food when something wobbles at the edge of my vision. A little girl on a bike, her front wheel jerking side to side, totally out of control.
“Watch out!” Oskar calls.
We both jump up and run toward her, but she goes down with a soft thud before we get there. Luckily, she only has a bruised ego. We help her up, steady the bike while she climbs back on, and send her off again, still wobbling.
“Glad she is okay,” Oskar says as we take our places on the blanket.
The fried chicken makes my three-day-old wraps taste like cardboard. His biscuits and fries make me forget about the raw veggies I brought. The almonds remain untouched. At least the watermelon is good, but his cookies put it to shame.
He keeps looking around like his head’s on a swivel. He’s been doing that, tracking every movement, since he got here. I do the same thing, but for me, it’s goalie instinct; we read motion without thinking. Seeing Oskar do it for no reason is strange.
There’s no question he fascinates me, and I keep wondering what kind of job he has that made him move here from Sweden. I should leave his life blank in my mind because that’s my rule with guys. It makes goodbyes easier. Instead, I ignore my usual procedure and ask, “Where’s your new job?”
He drains his water bottle before saying, “Across the river. New Jersey.”
“Oh. I thought you were staying in the city.”
“They offered me a hotel while I look for an apartment, so I asked for Manhattan. Since I had never been to New York, I figured I would try it out.”
“You planning to live in the city?” I ask.
“It depends on—”
A loud bark interrupts him as a golden retriever races past, eyes locked on the frisbee. The dog grabs it mid-air and sprints across the meadow. When the guys start swearing and chase after it, Oskar cackles.
Saved by a dog.
My relief quickly turns into irritation. I shouldn’t have needed saving at all. But as soon as I think that, my brain tells me to fuck off. Keep him talking, it says. Find out as much as you can.
Damn. I might go nuts before this picnic is over.
While I search for something safe to say, he taps my foot with his. “What do you do besides throw picnics?”
I never tell hookups I’m the Condors’ goalie, but Oskar is different. He’s the best company I’ve had in years.
“I work for a company in Midtown,” I say. “Seasonal work. Slammed most of the year, free during the summer. In winter, I’m on the road so much I sometimes forget what city I’m in.”
He nods. “Well, that certainly clears things up.”
I don’t know what to say. He didn’t tell me about his job, so why is he asking about mine? But when I look into his eyes, I lose my head. I’m about to confess the truth when he lets me off the hook.
“This is nice. The park. The picnic.” He lowers his glasses again, enough for me to see the smile lines around his eyes. “The handsome company.”
“You’re such a flirt,” I say. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted something out of me.”
His lips twist into a wicked smirk. “Or maybe to put something in you.”
We laugh again, but I can’t help thinking that sounds like a fantastic idea. It almost fits into my plan if I’m careful. Since we won’t be seeing each other much longer, I might as well get some while I can.