2. North43
When I get back to the living room, Nico’s lounging on the sofa, scrolling on his phone with a bored expression on his face. He’s very good-looking, I’ll give him that. His personality, however, I’m not so sure about.
“Luca’s in his room,” he drawls. “Don’t go inside unless you wanna see him butt naked.”
I raise a brow. “Okay.”
“You’re not gonna ask why?”
I shrug and sit down on the opposite end of the sofa, eyeing the Xbox under the TV. The effect of the surround speakers makes the sound become one with the room, like I’m wearing headphones when I’m not.
Nico flicks his gaze up from the phone. As soon as his eyes land on me, his expression morphs from languid boredom to laser focus, and I could swear he’s zeroing in on my red-rimmed eyes.
Fuck, now he knows I’ve been crying. He probably thinks I’m an immature baby, crying about my new room or missing my mom or something. It’s not entirely untrue, I guess. It’s not my mom I’m missing, though.
Luckily, I don’t have to be alone with Nico for much longer. Luca emerges from his room on the second floor. He’s had a change of clothing—now wearing a pink crop top and cream-colored booty shorts.
“Let’s have a drink,” he says with a strained smile.
“Was it gross?” Nico asks.
Luca doesn’t reply; he just yanks a bottle of vodka from the freezer. I’ve barely tried alcohol; I had some wine for dinner one night and spat it right back into the glass, but it’s not like I’ll say no.
“I have a date tonight,” Luca says.
“Who?” Nico asks.
“Some old rich dude. He wants to take me to dinner.”
“Okay,” Nico mutters. “Just be careful.”
I send them curious looks, a whirlwind of questions spinning around in my head.
“I’m a sugar baby,” Luca says, handing me a glass of vodka, orange juice, and ice cubes.
“And cam boy,” Nico says.
“And occasional escort,” Luca finishes.
“So basically a slut,” Nico says, grinning.
Luca pops his hip out. “Call me what you want, baby; I make more money than you.”
“Well, yeah, because I’m between jobs.”
Maybe that’s why he’s so grumpy.
“Where are you working, Oliver?” Luca asks, and he’s not sipping his drink; he’s basically one-shotting it. He slams the glass onto the counter and goes straight to making another.
I take a sip of my drink. Big mistake.
Unable to suppress a grimace, I reply, “Restaurant. Busboy.” And then I let out a pathetic little cough.
“Was that too strong?” Luca asks with a laugh. “Here, take mine. I’ll make it weaker.”
We exchange glasses, and the sip of my new drink is mostly orange juice, but there’s still a distinct sharpness from the vodka. Yuck.
“How old are you, by the way?” Nico asks.
“Nineteen,” I reply, with a straight face this time.
Nico smirks. “Just a baby. No wonder you’re so cute.”
“Stop flirting with him,” Luca says.
“I’m not flirting.” Nico leans back on the couch and sips his drink through a straw. “I’m just stating facts. He’s not my type anyway.”
Luca rolls his eyes. “You mean he doesn’t look mean enough?”
Nico’s mouth twitches, gaze fixed on his drink.
“Well, you’re not my type either,” I say, sipping my drink and succeeding in keeping my expression neutral this time.
The twins chuckle.
“I like him,” Nico says with a languid yawn. “We can keep him. As long as he doesn’t stay up gaming until four in the morning.”
“So only until three, then,” I say with a teasing grin.
Nico grimaces. “If you do that, I’ll kick—”
“My ass. Got it.” I take another big sip, and I think the alcohol is starting to affect me. I’m feeling warm and a little less on edge. Like the world is softer somehow, and the barriers between my mind and mouth are fuzzier. I’ve also stopped overthinking everything I say. It feels nice.
“Do you think Hunter wants one?” Nico asks, nodding at his drink.
“He always says no when I ask him,” Luca says with a shrug.
“Who’s Hunter?” I ask.
“That’s his room.” Nico points up toward the last door in the second-floor hallway. “He never comes out during the day.”
Luca nods. “We’ve lived with him for two years, and he’s said maybe ten words during that time.”
Nico huffs. “More like five. But he pays rent on time, and he doesn’t make noise, so he stays.”
Luca sets his glass down on the sofa table and perches on the armrest. “Speaking of house rules, this is the most important one: don’t be a dick.”
“You can suck one, though,” Nico says with a smirk. “We don’t discriminate.”
“Yeah, but none of ours,” Luca adds. “No sleeping with the roommates. That’s another rule.”
“Why?” I ask. Not that I’d planned to.
“Ask Nico.”
Nico rolls his eyes and grumbles something unintelligible. I raise a brow, wondering what the hell this is about, but I’m also content enough to just sip my drink and sink further into the sofa. It’s very comfy.
Luca turns to me. “Anyway, if you want to bring someone home with you, like I said, just tell us first.”
“Speaking of bringing people home… What is your type?” Nico asks. He looks bored, as if he doesn’t care either way, but there’s a glint in his eyes that reveals his genuine curiosity.
I think I’m starting to figure this guy out. Maybe living with him won’t be so bad.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop flirting?” Luca asks.
“I’m not flirting, just talking shit.”
“You’re making him uncomfortable.”
“You’re making him uncomfortable with that ridiculous outfit.” He gestures at Luca’s crop top and booty shorts that don’t leave much to the imagination. “Are you really going out like that? You know people will gawk at you, right?”
Luca throws his head back dramatically. “They always do.”
“Ugh. Anyway, let Blondie reply.”
I don’t have time to question the nickname. I keep my expression neutral, but inside, I’m spiraling, trying to come up with a reply to Nico’s question. What would they say if I said, “hairy, older, beefy men”?
The thing is, it’s not even other men. It’s him, specifically.
That’s what’s so fucked up. I don’t know which wires are crossed in my head, and I’m not about to admit my most shameful secret to my new roommates.
They seem to have their own quirks, but I doubt any of them have feelings for their former stepdad.
I can let one bit of the truth slip out, though. Only one.
“I guess I like… older?” It comes out like a question, but I’m anything but unsure.
“Knew it!” Nico exclaims, shooting upright. “I could smell the daddy issues from miles away.”
“Daddy issues?” I scrunch my nose, lip curled as I slurp up the last of my drink. I feel even warmer now, and a layer of cotton has wrapped itself around my surroundings, making everything a little less intimidating.
Luca waves a hand. “Just because he likes older guys doesn’t mean he’s got daddy issues.”
“But the chances go up by a lot,” Nico says.
I shrug, mumbling into my glass. “If you say so.” I don’t know if my supposed issues have something to do with the stuff I’ve researched. The stuff about daddy kink. I don’t know much about it, but from what I’ve read, it seems right up my alley.
“Well? What else?” Nico asks.
“That’s enough,” Luca says. “Oliver, if you don’t want to tell us, we won’t—”
“I like… hair.” I blurt it out without thinking, the buzz from the alcohol lowering my fear of being judged.
“Hair?”
“Hairy,” I clarify.
Nico chuckles. “You like bears? Like big, beefy, hairy dudes?”
I shrug. “I guess.” I don’t guess; I know. The problem is not what I like but who I like.
“Are you seeing anyone now?” Luca asks.
I shake my head. I’m not seeing anyone, and I’ve never seen anyone that way, period.
At nineteen, I’m still a virgin. I’ve barely even kissed anyone—just a guy at a graduation party a few months ago. He was drunk, sloppy, and far too young and inexperienced. Even though I tried to enjoy it, the experience made me even more sure of my preferences.
“Give me your dating profile,” Nico says suddenly.
My mouth drops open. “What?”
“Well, you’re on the apps, aren’t you?”
I want to lie, but Nico’s very persuasive, and he kind of looks like he genuinely wants to help. I hand him my phone and open the hookup app I’ve explored a bit.
After the conversation with my brother, Mason, a few weeks ago, I created the dating profile in the hopes of getting over a certain someone.
I don’t even show my face properly, but somehow I get daily messages from guys sending me dick pics out of nowhere.
Every time it happens, I close the app, heart racing with a mix of disgust and excitement.
Other chats have been more chill and respectful.
I was supposed to meet up with a guy a few weeks ago, but I chickened out.
I don’t know why. I just didn’t feel ready.
Also, he wasn’t really my type. Too young and ripped.
The type of guy I’d convinced myself I’m supposed to like.
Lane and Mason get along fine, and they’re close in age.
That’s the type of relationship I convinced myself I’m supposed to want, even though they’re really annoying together.
Luca sits next to Nico and glances at my phone. “Your profile pics are fine, I guess.”
My face burns, mortified at him seeing the half-hearted shirtless pics I snapped in my old room at Mom’s house.
“I thought you liked older guys,” Luca says, frowning as he scrolls through my settings. “Why is your age range set so low?”
“I didn’t know you could change it,” I lie. I do know; I just wanted to see if I really was as disinterested in guys my age as I thought. Turns out, I am.
Luca goes back to my profile. He tuts at what he sees in my description. “See, you can’t say you’re nineteen. That will attract the creeps.”
I raise a defensive brow. “But I am nineteen.”
“He’s right,” Nico says. “Change it to twenty-three or something. Just to weed out the creeps.”
Nico shows me my phone, where they’ve set the age range from thirty to forty-five and my age to twenty-three.
They’re actually helpful. Maybe this is exactly what I need to get over Logan. Meet someone else. Someone older. Someone who looks and acts like him but isn’t him.