Chapter 16
Cute.
The word floated in Sam’s brain while he was throwing things together to go to Ian’s. Picking his way through the piles of clothes, books, and whatever that populated his floor. And his furniture. No wonder Ian wanted to go to his place.
Cute.
Ian thought he was cute. No one had ever called him anything like cute before. Not even Nik, who often told him to stop worrying, he was attractive to a certain type of guy. Sam had always assumed Nik meant the kind of guy who wasn’t attractive to much of anyone, like Marley.
He snuck another glance at Ian, standing near the door with his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans, his black leather jacket spilling over his forearms, watching him.
Sam stumbled over something on the floor.
He looked down, embarrassed at being a klutz in front of Ian, even if it was kind of Ian’s fault for making him nervous.
Oh. He’d tripped over the single bare patch of floor in his entire apartment.
Sam sighed and wished Ian would stop watching him. There was that tiny little place inside of him that was terrified Ian would see how gawky and unattractive he really was, and say, “You know what? I changed my mind.”
Okay, well, it was actually a biggish part inside of him.
“I think I’ll wait outside.” Sam jumped and whirled to face Ian when he spoke. He looked like he was trying to stifle a smile.
“Okay,” Sam croaked.
After Ian walked out, Sam slumped in relief—until it occurred to him that Ian might be making his getaway. He tiptoe-ran over and put his ear to the door, sucking in a breath when he heard Ian’s footsteps trail off toward the stairs. Dammit, he decided I’m a dork, he is leav—
Sam’s inner monologue shut up when he heard Ian’s feet stop, then start up again, but this time heading back toward Sam’s door. He changed his mind!
Ian’s footsteps reached the door, then paused. Sam heard a sort of foot-drag sound, then Ian started walking away again. Slowly. Shit! He changed his mind. Again!
Sam listened to Ian make the circuit three or four more times before he realized Ian was pacing. Impatiently? Had he made Ian impatient? Sam leapt away from the door and started shoving random items into his backpack again.
He was in the bathroom, grabbing whatever, thinking about how Ian had actually wanted to feed him before taking him home and fucking him, when he realized he needed to take a shower. He froze mid-reach, staring at himself in the mirror.
He knew what was going to happen when they got to Ian’s house, and he definitely needed to wash first.
Okay. Ian would probably let him take a shower there, right? He wasn’t inviting Sam over to sleep with him. He wanted to stay awake with him. And he’d want Sam to be, you know, clean before they got all dirty. So Ian would let him take a shower.
Or maybe he should ask. He groaned at himself in the mirror. Oh, God, no. That was dorky, wasn’t it?
Sam argued himself into a mental dither. Finally, he took himself firmly in hand, grabbed his toothbrush, and determined he’d simply ask if he could take a shower when they got to Ian’s place.
When he whipped the front door open, Ian was standing right outside it. Sam watched his shoulders drop—if he didn’t know better, he’d think Ian’s shoulders had been trying to climb to his ears.
“I was starting to think you’d changed your mind,” Ian said, smiling a small, tight smile. Sam stared at him. Seriously? Why would he ever change his mind?
“Ready to go?” Ian asked in a stronger voice.
“Totally.” Sam nodded and threw his backpack over his shoulder.