2. CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
CONNOR
Theo drops another box in the centre of my living room, the dull thud echoing slightly through the otherwise quiet space, leaving it directly in the middle of the floor like there isn’t already a clearly organised stack waiting for it in the corner.
His fingers curl into the hem of his battered t-shirt before I can tell him it doesn’t go there, dragging the fabric up to wipe across his face, and the words die somewhere in my throat as toned, tan skin appears beneath it.
His stomach tenses with the movement, muscle shifting beneath smooth skin, and it takes me a second too long to realise I’m still looking.
I tear my eyes away, irritation flaring hot beneath my skin. There was absolutely no reason he needed to use his shirt.
“Problem?”
The question pulls my attention back to him. He’s dropped his shirt again, leaning against the doorframe with one ankle crossed behind the other, apparently completely unconcerned by the box he’s abandoned in the middle of my living room.
“Several.” I bend to retrieve the box, lifting it back into my arms. “Starting with this.”
He’s been here less than an hour and somehow already managed to wear my patience thin, wandering around my flat looking half-dead and dropping boxes wherever he feels like it despite the labels stuck across the front.
A poorly concealed laugh comes from somewhere behind me, and I glance over to find Marcus watching us, his lips pressed together like that’s going to hide how entertained he is.
He’s spent enough years watching me straighten crooked pictures and move things back to exactly where I left them to know how much Theo dropping boxes wherever he feels like it is getting under my skin, and apparently he finds the whole thing hilarious.
“It doesn’t go there,” I bite out, ignoring both of them as I carry the box across the room and place it carefully with the others in the far corner.
I carry the box across the room, placing it carefully with the others in the far corner.
I’ve already sorted them by room, each one lined up neatly beside the next with the labels facing out so I know exactly where everything is without having to search for it later.
There’s something comforting about seeing them like that, everything accounted for, nothing out of place, the mess of moving contained into neat little sections that make sense.
I nudge the box until its edge lines up with the one beside it, the irritation beneath my skin settling slightly now that it’s back where it belongs.
When I straighten, Theo isn’t looking at me anymore. His attention has shifted to the boxes behind me, moving slowly over the labels facing outward and the careful way I’ve lined everything up, before drifting across the rest of the room, and my stomach sinks as I realise what he’s noticing.
I know what it looks like. Most people wouldn’t care if one box was sitting in the middle of the floor for a few minutes, or if the labels weren’t facing the same way, or if the edges didn’t quite line up.
Marcus has teased me about it for years, never cruelly, but enough that I know it’s noticeable.
Enough that I know other people don’t need things to be quite so exact.
Theo’s attention comes back to me, and I have the ridiculous urge to shift in front of the boxes, hiding them from view even though it’s far too late for that now.
“Jesus Christ.” Theo lets out a low whistle, his eyes flicking briefly towards Marcus before settling back on me.
I know that reaction. The disbelief that something so insignificant could possibly matter this much, usually followed by questions I don’t know how to answer without sounding ridiculous. Defensiveness rises before Theo even opens his mouth again.
“What?”
Theo rolls his lips together, humming quietly under his breath, his eyes lingering on me for another second. I wait for the comment, already preparing myself to brush it off, but it never comes.
“Nothing at all,” he says instead, turning away, apparently finished with the conversation.
I’m left standing there with all that defensiveness still wound tight inside me and nowhere for it to go, confusion beginning to creep in around the edges of my irritation while Theo simply reaches for another box.
I’m still watching when Theo reaches for another box, trying to work out what the hell that was supposed to mean. The muscles in his arms tense beneath the weight, shifting the ink covering his skin, and somewhere along the way I lose track of what I was trying to figure out.
My attention drops to the loose thread hanging from the hem of his shirt instead, frayed and uneven against the faded fabric. I find myself wanting to reach over and pull it free, the thought irritating enough to finally make me look away.
Theo moves towards the neat stack of boxes, and I catch sight of the label stretched across the front a second before he bends to put it down.
“Not there,” I rush out.
Theo pauses, looking from me to the box in his hands, his brow lifting.
“Excuse me?”
I turn away, busying myself with the picture hanging on the wall beside me, nudging it a fraction to the left before moving it back again.
It’s a mess of glitter, tissue paper and badly cut shapes, a monstrosity Marcus made for me in kindergarten that has somehow survived every clear-out I’ve ever attempted.
I still can’t bring myself to get rid of it.
“It goes in the bedroom,” I say, flicking my eyes pointedly towards the label stretched clearly across the front of the box.
Theo cranes his head over it, a quiet grunt leaving him when he finally spots the label, and without arguing, he straightens and carries it down the hall.
I watch Theo disappear down the hall before turning back to the picture, nudging it slightly to the left, then back again, unable to decide which position looks right anymore.
The dull thud of the box hitting the bedroom floor echoes towards me a moment later, pulling my attention briefly towards the hallway.
Marcus reappears with a smaller box balanced in his arms just as Theo comes back around the corner, their shoulders colliding when they pass. Theo staggers sideways towards me, now much closer than he was a second ago.
I catch him at the ribs, my palm grazing warm skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, but my eyes are already on the table beside us, checking that nothing in the neat row of knick-knacks has shifted out of place.
Everything is exactly where I left it, and the relief that settles through me lasts all of a second before a quiet breath of laughter comes from beside me.
I look back at Theo to find his eyes on the table, before they lift slowly to mine, amusement brightening them enough that I know he’s caught exactly what I was checking for. He lifts his hands in surrender and moves away, giving the table an exaggerated amount of space.
I press my lips together, refusing to give him the reaction he’s clearly waiting for.
“Alright,” Marcus calls, appearing in the doorway again. “I’m gonna grab the last box out the van, then I think we’re finally done.”
He claps his hands together, apparently as relieved by that as I am, before disappearing back out towards the van.
Theo rounds the corner a moment later with a sigh of relief, shoving a hand through his hair to push it away from his sweat-damp forehead.
“Finally.”
He sets the lamp down on the side table, and my eyes go straight to it.
It’s slightly off centre, barely enough that anyone else would notice, and I drag my gaze away before I can fixate on it. I can move it later. There’s no reason it needs to be done now.
Except I can still see it from the corner of my eye, sitting just far enough to the right that concentrating on anything else becomes increasingly difficult.
My fingers curl against my palms, nails pressing into the skin while I keep my eyes determinedly away from the table, refusing to give in to the urge to move it.
When I finally risk another glance towards the table, I catch Theo watching me instead. His eyes flick briefly towards the lamp before returning to mine, one brow lifting, and embarrassment warms my cheeks at the realisation that he’s noticed exactly what’s been bothering me.
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth, wishing for once that I could simply leave it where it is and pretend I hadn’t noticed. “Can you move it slightly to the left?”
Theo holds my gaze for another second, and I wait for whatever comment I’ve just handed him, but he only turns back to the lamp.
I wait for the laugh, or some comment about the boxes and everything else he’s already noticed, but Theo only shifts the lamp to the left, barely an inch, stopping exactly where I wanted it.
The discomfort beneath my skin eases, the tension slipping from my shoulders with a quiet breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.I’m so used to people questioning these things that Theo’s complete lack of reaction leaves me unsure what to make of him.
He doesn’t ask for an explanation or point out how little he moved it, doesn’t make me justify why it matters when I’m not entirely sure I could.
He just moved it.
“You know,” he says, leaning his shoulder against the door jamb, “I’ve done everything you’ve asked me, right?”
I blink at him, thrown enough by the sudden change in conversation that I glance around the room as if the answer might be sitting somewhere between the boxes.
What?”
Theo pushes away from the wall, closing some of the distance between us.
“The box,” he says, ticking it off on his fingers as he walks towards me. “The table.”
Another finger lifts.
“The lamp.”
My eyes flick briefly towards the lamp before returning to Theo, and it takes me a second to register how much closer he’s gotten. He keeps walking, steadily closing the space between us, but backing away would feel ridiculous when there’s absolutely no reason for me to.
Theo doesn’t stop until he’s directly in front of me, leaving barely any space between us. I can feel the warmth coming off him now, smell the faint trace of cologne beneath the sweat from carrying boxes all afternoon, details I have absolutely no reason to be noticing.
I tip my chin slightly to meet his eyes, finding Theo already watching me, his head tilting while he studies my face.
“Anything else, princess?”
My entire body tenses at the nickname, the word getting under my skin instantly. “Don’t call me that,” I grit out.
The nickname gets beneath my skin far too easily.
I already know I care about details other people barely notice, that things Marcus can shrug off without a second thought can stay with me until I have no choice but to fix them.
Princess makes all of that sound precious and difficult, turning a part of myself I already struggle to explain into one stupid word Theo can tease me with, and I hate how easily he found it.
Theo watches me, his eyes searching my face while the corner of his mouth slowly pulls up.
“Anything you say.”
Before I can decide whether I believe him, he leans in, closing what little space is left between us until his mouth hovers beside my ear. My breath catches at the sudden closeness, warmth brushing across my skin when he speaks.
“Princess.”
My palm catches his shoulder, shoving hard, an offended sound catching in my throat when all that solid muscle barely gives beneath my hand.
Theo rocks back a single step, rolling the shoulder I shoved, his brows lifting at the force behind it. The surprise doesn’t last long, his mouth already beginning to curve by the time his eyes find mine again.
“You’re stronger than you look.”
His eyes sweep over me again, slower this time, and my pulse kicks harder against my ribs as his tongue flicks out to catch his lip ring, tugging it briefly between his teeth.
I glare at him, pressing my lips together and pulling myself back under control before he can get another reaction out of me.
“Marcus,” I call across the flat, keeping my eyes fixed on Theo. “Please get your Neanderthal out of my flat.”
Theo laughs, the sound warm and entirely too pleased with himself.
“So polite.”
He finally turns away, and I’m more than happy to let the interaction end there, shifting my attention back towards the boxes only for him to stop at the threshold.
His knuckles drum idly against the doorframe as he glances back over his shoulder, catching my eye.
“I like the way you say please.”
His eyes hold mine before lowering to my mouth, making me aware of my own lips, of the way they part beneath his attention and the warmth spreading steadily across my cheeks. By the time his eyes lift to mine again, I can only stare at him, completely unprepared for how blatant the flirtation is.
Marcus rounds the corner before I can decide what to say, slowing when he catches sight of us, his brows pulling together while his eyes move between me and Theo.
“Why does my brother look like he’s seen a ghost, Knox?”
The question only makes the warmth in my cheeks worse. I turn away, reaching for the nearest box and pulling at the tape across the top, determined to look occupied rather than acknowledge either of them.
“No idea,” Theo says.
There’s enough amusement in his voice that I don’t have to turn around to know he’s pleased with himself, which is irritating in itself considering I’ve known him for less than an hour.
Marcus scoffs. “Yeah, right. Just get out and stop traumatising him.”
Theo chuckles somewhere behind me, and I hear the faint shuffle of movement as he finally heads for the door.
I should be relieved he’s finally leaving, yet my hands slow over the box while his footsteps cross the room behind me, each one registering far more clearly than they have any reason to.
Marcus says something too low for me to make out, and Theo’s answering laugh carries back through the flat, remaining clear even when their footsteps begin to fade.
I drop down beside the nearest box, catching the edge of the tape with my thumbnail and peeling it carefully away from the cardboard, focusing on the clean line it leaves behind instead of the laugh still carrying through the flat.
Theo is irritating, deliberately so, and that’s the only reason he’s managed to get under my skin this quickly.
I yank the cardboard open and start unpacking, focusing on placing everything exactly where it belongs instead of the sound of Theo’s voice disappearing down the hall.