4. Chapter Four
Diesel
“What an asshole!” Arlo tells Micah as I enter the breakroom.
The smell of coffee with that faint hint of pine greets me.
I grab a cup, doctoring it with a bit of cream, then take a grateful sip.
The warmth of the mug in my hands and the creamy bitterness of that first taste are something I look forward to every morning.
In the background, the clank of weights and the soft thud of the bass from the gym’s speakers soothe me with their familiarity.
Arlo and Micah are sitting at the worn card table against the back wall, deep in discussion.
Micah, of course, is wearing all black. If the man owns anything other than black, he hasn’t worn it.
It brings out the green in his eyes and makes those pretty pink lips very noticeable.
As if I’m not already far too aware of them.
I try not to think about them wrapped around my cock, even though that thought is a nightly occurrence.
They’re both wearing grim expressions, and I don’t like the distress on Micah’s face.
He’s all scrunched up as if he’s trying to make himself smaller, shoulders stiff, mouth pulled down in a frown, his eyes sharp and suspiciously bright.
I can’t help myself. I blatantly eavesdrop and I don’t even feel guilty about it.
He hasn’t looked like this in months, not since he first showed up here.
“Right! It’s my fault. I don’t know why I trusted the guy,” Micah replies, hunching his shoulders and scrubbing his face with his hand.
Is this a date gone bad? Did someone hurt him? My heart rate spikes, and I immediately feel the need to take a swing at someone.
“This is not on you! Seriously, you have to be a real dick to kick someone out in the middle of the night!” Arlo reassures him while rubbing soothing circles on his back. A pang of envy flashes through me, but I ignore it. Maybe someday he’ll trust me enough to let me be the one to comfort him.
“Well, now I have to find another place to live and get my stuff back.” Micah sounds so defeated.
My heart lurches. He got kicked out of his apartment? Did this happen last night?
“You can stay with me. Umm, I mean at my house. In uh … the spare room,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. Heat crawls up my face, but now that it’s out there, I refuse to take it back.
Shocked faces greet me when I glance up from my coffee cup. Despite my off-the-cuff invitation, the thought of him living with me feels right in a way that nothing ever has. I want this. Not just for him to live in a safe place, but for me as well. I want him close. I want a chance.
“Oh, I don’t want to impose, man,” Micah says, probably assuming I’m only being nice. If only he knew.
Arlo is watching both of us with unnerving intensity.
“Micah, I’m serious. I have two rooms that I don’t even use. It’s not an imposition, I promise you,” I say.
“I can’t do that to you, Troy.” He’s saying no, but he’s sitting taller and the defeated look is gone.
“Why not?” both Arlo and I say simultaneously.
The bewildered expression on his face is almost comical. I’d laugh if I weren’t so invested in the outcome.
“It’s the perfect solution,” Arlo says with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Diesel’s got the space and let’s face it, he’d never kick you out in the middle of the night.”
“Of course I wouldn’t. Who does that?” I’m appalled. Where was he living?
“Right! What a jerk!” Arlo says.
What is Arlo up to? Does it even matter if I get Micah? No, not really.
“I can pay rent. Well, not this week but next week, I can pay.” His face tells me he’s still conflicted but softening toward my idea.
I wave that thought away.
“No rush. We can work something out.”
Micah’s face shuts down hard, and his eyes narrow as he glares at me.
“I’m not a charity case. I can pay my own way, Troy.” Even though he’s getting defensive, he looks way too cute with his nose scrunched up as he eyes me warily.
Be careful here!
My stomach drops as I realize I’m going about this the wrong way.
He’s not used to people doing nice things for him, which means he’s suspicious.
It’s not like this is new information about him, but I can’t believe I didn’t handle this better.
I work through what I want to say while the refrigerator hums unnaturally loud in the tense silence.
It has to be right, or he’ll shut me down.
Patience.
“Micah, it’s not charity. We’ll figure out the rent is all I’m saying. I’m not doing this for free,” I say carefully. Even though I would one hundred percent do this for free, he’d never agree.
“Oh, uh sorry. I’m pretty tired today.” He’s instantly contrite, curling in on himself, and I hate it, but I don’t react. I wish I could hug him, but I don’t because I know better.
“No problem. Wanna come by after work and check it out?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant when everything I want depends on his answer.
“Sure, I can do that.”
“You should take Diesel with you to grab your furniture, Micah. He’s got that pickup and he can help you get it all downstairs.” Arlo’s wearing a smugly satisfied grin about his “suggestion.”
“That could work. Are you free tonight? I’ve got some cash for gas,” Micah tells me, straightening his back and leaning forward.
“Happy to. Don’t worry about the gas right now, we’ll sort it out later.” As if I’m going to let him pay me gas money on top of rent. I tamp down my internal celebration, but all the while something unfurls in my chest that feels dangerously close to hope.
His face gets that stubborn expression again.
“There’s plenty of time to work out the finances. Let’s get your stuff first,” I say, trying to forestall another argument.
Please don’t change your mind!
“We’re gonna discuss it,” he warns me, eyeing me with suspicion.
“Of course we will. I promise.” I raise my hand as if I’m taking a vow. We are definitely going to talk about it. Just not now.
We work through the logistics of picking up his furniture. I suggest we get it tonight because who knows what will happen to it at this Jasper guy’s place. All I can say is that Micah’s furniture better be fine, or Jasper and I are going to have an issue.
Micah heads back to his corner, sketchbook in hand, looking far more upbeat than he did a while ago. Warmth blooms in the pit of my stomach. I did that.
After he’s left, Arlo leans over to whisper, “You’re welcome, D.”
Smirking, he saunters out of the room. I pretend I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I start my training workout with a smile because Micah’s coming home with me tonight.