TWENTY-EIGHT
Leo couldn’t sleep. It had been almost three when he’d gotten home from work. The clock now read four thirty, and he hadn’t managed a wink yet. His brain was going nonstop with thoughts of Roman.
He couldn’t get used to the fact that Roman was back in his life. Couldn’t come to terms with Roman’s past and what he’d lived through. He’d spent years angry at Roman, trying to hate him, but the real pain, fear, and denial he saw in Roman’s eyes wiped all that away.
And it scared the shit out of him too.
He didn’t know what all this meant, where they would go from here. There was still a lot of past between them, but when Roman had asked him last night if he would take a man home, his answer had come more easily than he’d wanted it to. It seemed when Roman was there, Leo didn’t want anyone other than him—even now.
They didn’t know each other anymore, yet he’d automatically let himself get entwined with Roman again. They weren’t kids anymore, though. They couldn’t hide away and pretend their problems didn’t exist. They couldn’t pretend they weren’t different. But he couldn’t help but wonder if Roman would be okay with it. Was he ready to…what? Date? Continue to fuck? Spend time together? Hell, Leo didn’t even know if he was ready to have Roman in his life either, and he hadn’t experienced what Roman had. Those memories couldn’t have possibly gone away this quickly.
He closed his eyes, remembered the night they’d gone out. Thought about how Roman had lost it at the club, about the way he’d cried when he had Leo in his mouth. He wasn’t stupid enough to think everything was okay now. The fear and pain he’d seen in Roman couldn’t be wiped away because he’d let Leo have his ass.
Where did that leave them?
Leo tossed and turned for he didn’t know how much longer. It felt as though the second he closed his eyes to sleep, he was woken up by a pounding on his door. For a minute, he almost ignored it, but then something made him force himself out of his bed. He pulled on a pair of shorts and stumbled to the door. When he opened it, he wasn’t surprised to see Roman standing there.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come so early,” Roman said as Leo scratched the back of his head. He wore a white, button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows and a pair of jeans. He looked embarrassed, and as much as Leo wasn’t sure how he felt about it, he thought it was cute that Roman was obviously excited to have come so early.
“No, it’s fine. Come in.” Leo stepped back. Roman walked inside the small apartment and held up a plastic bag.
“I made crostoli.”
His stomach growled. The sweet pastry sounded delicious. “This early?” Leo closed the door behind them.
“I couldn’t sleep. They won’t be as good because they’re not warm, but I thought you might enjoy them.”
Leo nodded, felt something warm in his chest as he looked at the other man. At his smooth brown skin and dark hair. The lines of his jaw that made him model-gorgeous. He was beautiful. Roman had always been beautiful. When he was younger it was more of a harsh beauty than now.
“Let’s sit.” He nodded toward the small table. Roman made his way over while Leo went into the kitchen to start coffee. He excused himself to go to the restroom, and by the time he made it out, he was able to stop the pot long enough to pour them each a cup.
A few moments later, he set the mugs down as Roman pulled the sugar-covered pastries from the bag. They were on a plate he must have brought from home. He grabbed napkins and set one in front of himself and one in front of the other chair for Leo.
“I didn’t know you cooked…or baked, would it be?” he said when he sat down. He took a bite and nearly moaned at the sweet, flaky treat.
“I didn’t use to. I started cooking in college. I remember my mom making crostoli before she left. She’d told me she learned from her grandma and she would teach me one day. She never did, but I perfected them on my own.”
Leo nodded, seeing shadows of the past darken Roman’s eyes. “You did. They’re good. You’ll have to make them here one time so I can taste them warm.”
Roman eyed him. He looked serious all the time now. Looked at Leo as though he’d asked him to move in rather than just finding a way to invite him over again. It put Leo’s senses on alert. He didn’t know what this was between them, but they needed to tread carefully.
“I’d like that,” Roman finally replied.
“You wanna cook for me?” Leo winked, and Roman smiled. “You won’t see me arguing about that.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Leo asked, “Where did you go to college?”
“UCLA,” Roman replied. “It was the first time in my life I ever felt like I was free; the crazy part is I wasn’t. I might have been free from my dad and Anthony, but I was still behind bars I didn’t realize were there.”
It was hard for Leo to make sense of that. Yes, he understood the mind was a complex thing. Roman had been through a life-altering experience. But to think that he somehow blocked out how he felt, or somehow made himself believe it wasn’t real, was sometimes hard to believe. It wasn’t that he doubted it; he just didn’t understand it, and damned if it didn’t break his heart. He couldn’t imagine living that way.
“You’re frowning at me,” Roman said, making Leo realize he was.
“I’m sorry.” He should have known something was wrong back then. He should have fought harder. Told someone—something, anything.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Roman reached over and grabbed another piece of crostoli. “Here, eat this one. It has the most sugar on it. I remember you used to be a sugar fanatic. You kept candy with you all the time—Starburst, I think. The first time I kissed you, you tasted like strawberry Starburst.”
That made Leo laugh. He hadn’t thought about that in years. He did use to keep candy with him all the time.
He took the pastry from Roman. “I did. I remember when you stole them from me. We were in my room, and you wouldn’t let me have them.”
“You got them eventually,” Roman said with a smile. It hit Leo in the chest, nearly stole his breath because he recognized the joy in that smile. It reminded him of how Roman would sometimes look at him when they were kids.
“I did,” Leo remembered. “All I had to do was kiss you, and you forgot all about the candy. Then I got to make my move and pull them out from under the pillow you were lying on.”
They laughed the way they used to, in those moments where they hid away from the world and could pretend things were different for them. It was carefree, innocent, untouched by what the future would hold for them, but hopeful.
“Are you going to eat it?” Roman asked when they settled down.
“I am.” Leo took a bite, licked sugar from his lips, and it was almost as though they were those naive kids again. It was almost as though no time or distance had passed between them.