GRAY AREA #2
Anders slowly steals the glass from my hand and takes another sip on his own accord. This time his mouth deliberately lands exactly where mine was just a moment ago.
My stomach flips violently when he gives me a wicked grin.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I rouse, attempting to reclaim the scotch.
He fakes me out at the last minute, holding the glass away from me.
I stare at him, hyper-vigilant of the pink flush climbing his throat and the way his pupils have blown concerningly wide. And suddenly I know with terrifying certainty that if Luca wasn’t here right now, I wouldn’t even want to stop myself.
“Anders…” It was a weak warning that fell from my lips.
“Petchka,” he murmurs teasingly, bringing the scotch to his lips and taking the smallest sip necessary.
I wrap my hand around the glass, my fingers covering his.
“Anders,” I say again. “Give it back.”
“No.”
“Don’t tell me no.”
He challenges me with his sharp gaze. “Nyet.”
I shake my head at him disdainfully. “You’re at a loose end.”
His mouth pulls into a lazy smirk. “Yas nayu.”
Fuck.
“What the hell am I gonna do with you?” I sigh, letting go and backing away a little.
Something in his expression drops the moment I do, like he wasn’t ready to give the moment up yet. But there isn’t anything I can do about it, because the sound of Luca’s voice puts an abrupt end to whatever the hell was about to happen.
He finishes off his beer before slamming the glass back down on the bar.
“Think I’m gonna call it a night,” Luca finally says. “I didn’t realize how late it was.”
I lean forward too fast, my heart pounding.
Did he see? Jesus Christ, did he fucking see?
“You need us to walk you back to your hotel?” I ask, hating the way my voice sounds a little too shaky.
“Nah.” He grabs his jacket, then pauses long enough to look directly at me. “Just get my baby brother home safe, okay?”
Baby brother. The words land like a warning shot.
“It was good seeing you, mano.” Luca ruffles Anders’ hair roughly.
“Stop,” Anders groans, swatting his hand away. “So annoying.”
“Are you gonna miss me?” Luca teases.
“Um.” He narrows his eyes at his older brother. “Perhaps.”
Luca hugs me next, arms tight around my shoulders. “It was good seeing you, man.”
“Yeah. You too.”
Then he pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, giving me a look that tells me I’m screwed. “Don’t do anything stupid,” Luca says firmly, holding my gaze before turning to look at his brother like Anders is the one he’s talking to. But I know better.
Guilt hits me like a wooden stake to the heart.
Anders brushes it off immediately. “Relax, Luc. I live with your Russian spy, remember?”
Luca shrugs vainly. “A little reminder never hurts.”
The second Luca walks out the front door, a heavy silence persists that holds Anders and I in some sort of spell.
He folds his arms across his chest and watches me carefully, pulling his mouth into a sultry grin. “I could go for another drink.”
And God…I want to stay here until closing time and see what happens when we finally stop pretending this isn’t heading somewhere catastrophic.
That’s all I fucking want. But Luca’s voice keeps getting louder and louder, reminding me exactly why I tried stopping this in the first place.
The only difference is that I know what it’s like now.
I’ve tasted him. I’ve just about memorized the tiny noises he makes when words fail him.
“Pet’ka?” Anders takes a step closer.
My jaw clenches instinctively from how hard I’m trying to hold myself back. Instead, I force myself to grab my phone and pull my shit together like the man I’m supposed to be.
“Maybe we should call it a night.”
His expression changes instantly. Hurt flashes before it’s instantly masqueraded by indifference. “Okay,” he says slowly, almost like it’s a question. “That’s new.”
“It’s been a long day.”
He laughs a little skeptically. “You always have, like, three energy drinks before your games.”
Fuck.
“God. Really can’t get anything past you, can’t I?”
He doesn’t take the bait. “You’re acting weird.”
“I’m being responsible,” I say carefully, forcing my voice back into something steadier. “One of us needs to remember the lines we drew.”
Anders stares at me for a long moment, but when he pulls his phone out of his pocket, something deep in my gut tells me he couldn’t care less about those lines.
Especially when he slices me right at the Achilles.
“Seth’s throwing a party,” he says casually, typing something. “Might head there for a bit.”
No fucking way. Seth and party in the same sentence constitutes an intervention. Immediate jealousy hits me so hard it genuinely angers me in the ugliest way possible. “You sure about that?” I ask, swiping my hand down my face.
He narrows his eyes just enough to show he knows what I’m hinting at. “Yeah.” That’s all he says before he pockets his phone and slides off the stool.
“No,” I say immediately. “Wrong answer. Rethink it.”
Luca’s been gone a total of ten seconds and I’m already fucking this up, but I can’t find it in myself to care.
Fucking Seth.
“Did you have something else in mind?” Anders challenges.
I shake my head, opening my mouth and immediately closing it.
He laughs thinly. “Okay, then.”
I watch him walk toward the door ahead of me, hoodie riding up just enough to expose the strip of skin above his jeans.
I can’t. I refuse to stand here and watch my boy walk right into the arms of another man.
“Anders,” I call out against my better judgment, running a hand down my face again.
“Parker,” he mutters back with a crude look in his eyes. “There a problem?”
My jaw ticks and I blink rapidly.
Fuck.
He turns away and walks out.
Fuck it. I haven’t promised Luca shit. Not yet.
“Anders!” I call out again, ignoring the warning bells ringing in the back of my head.
The door slams behind me. He’s already walking off, but I know he hears me because he slows down a little.
“Hey.” I close the distance and grab him by the arm. He turns around and looks up at me with wide eyes and an angry pout.
“Stop,” he mutters weakly.
And the moment he does that thing where he sucks on his bottom lip without even realizing, I fucking lose it.
“We’re going home,” I demand. “You’re not seeing Seth.”
He rolls his eyes. “Parker, it’s a party. All my friends are already there and I was literally there earlier.”
“What?” My brows pull together.
Anders just closes his eyes and shakes his head like he’s afraid to speak. Not because he’s afraid of me, but because he knows where this is headed.
“Why are you being like this—”
I drag him off to the side of the building where we’re tucked safely out of the way of pedestrians.
“Tell me,” I ordered him, backing him up against the brick wall. “Tell me you don’t want him. You don’t want anyone else.”
“No,” he whispers, looking over my shoulder. “You don’t get that.”
Everything in me tells me to stop. To back off because I’m acting like an insanely possessive dickhead. But there’s a pulling force deeply-rooted inside that’s telling me to fuck the consequences. Because he’s mine.
He’s mine. He’s always been mine.
“Say it, Anderson.”
“No.” He lets out a shaky breath and folds his arms. “Just stop,” he chokes out, swallowing hard. “You know this isn’t fair.” His eyes gloss over and by the way he’s breathing, I know how hard he wants to give in.
“Please,” I whisper anyway. “Anders—”
“Jesus, Parker,” he bites out, shoving me away like he’s found his footing.
I didn’t realize how close we were even standing. Too close, at that.
When he closes his eyes, a small tear falls slowly down his face.
My body reacts before I even realize, immediately drawn by the incessant need to help. I reach out to wipe it away, but he swats my hand off before I can.
“Anders.” I reach out again and cup his jaw.
He flinches, contorting his head and striking me with a fist while pulling me by my hoodie at the same exact time.
“I hate you, Parker. I fucking hate you—”
I know he doesn’t mean it.
My grip on his tightens, holding his head in place. “Just tell me you don’t want him—”
“You know I don’t fucking want him—”
That’s all it takes.
He whimpers the second my mouth crashes into his. There’s nothing gentle about it. Weeks of wanting him, avoiding him, pretending I can still do the right thing all hit me at once. My hand slides into his hair and I pull him against me so hard his back knocks against the brick.
Anders makes this broken sound against my mouth, halfway between a sob and a gasp, and then his hands are fisting in my hoodie even more, dragging me closer like he’s terrified I’ll disappear if he lets go.
I kiss him harder.
His lips are wet from tears. Mine taste like whiskey and regret. Neither of us care.
My thumb catches his jaw while I tilt his head back, and suddenly he’s kissing me back with everything he has. All the anger. All the hurt. Weeks of pretending we aren’t standing on the verge of something that’s going to ruin both of us.
He pulls away just enough to breathe.
“I fucking hate you,” he whispers again, voice shaking.
“Hate me harder.”
He whimpers.
I kiss him again, slower this time. Not because I want to, but because I have to.
Because now that I know he doesn’t want Seth, the fight leaves my body all at once.
My hand slides to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse racing beneath my fingers.
Anders melts against me, his fingers still clutching the front of my jacket in a way that drives me wild.
“Parker,” he breathes. The way he says my name sounds like surrender.
I rest my forehead against his and force myself to pull back before I lose whatever control I have left.
“I’m taking you home,” I tell him again, my voice rough. “You’re not going to that party.”
This time he doesn’t argue. He just nods, still holding onto me like he isn’t sure either of us can survive letting go.
And for the first time in my life, I understand exactly how a man ruins everything for someone he loves.