Hours sailed by. Soon it was almost four in the morning and we were into our fourth beers, and I was pleasantly surprised at how well we were getting along. Sure, there were a few things Enzo said that reminded me about our differing personas, but for the most part, I wasn’t nearly as put off as I assumed I would have been. We talked about vacation fails and embarrassing high school moments, favorite hangouts in New York (his was Central Park, while I really enjoyed the High Line) we joked about politics, and we poked fun at each other over favorite music choices. (He actually enjoyed Katy Perry. I almost walked out of my own apartment when I found that out.)

It didn’t feel like we had just spent time giving our statements to police officers, nor did it feel like Enzo had been moments from losing his life. It was surreal thinking about it, so I didn’t. Instead, I got up during a lull in the conversation and went to the kitchen for two more beers.

When I got back to the living room, Enzo seemed to have inched farther toward the center of the couch. He had been leaning on the armrest earlier. Now, he held on to a yellow pillow on his lap. I didn’t mention anything, even though I definitely noticed the move.

I was almost surprised by how handsome Enzo looked. Even after the traumatic event, he still had a glow around him that lured me toward him like a moth to the full moon. His dark hair was slightly messed up, a curled strand falling down onto his forehead like a crescent-shaped shadow. His eyes were still wide and bright, even though it was likely way past both our bedtimes. He was manspreading a bit in his dark pants, which I normally would have clocked as rude, but in Enzo’s case, it was actually pretty hot. It was the perfect amount of room between his legs for me to kneel down and—

“Here you go,” I said, handing over the cool bottle of beer. I wasn’t about to start fantasizing about Enzo, not now, not when he was sitting on the same couch that Jose and I would spend hours on, sometimes naked, sometimes not. No, this wasn’t one of those nights. Besides, it wasn’t like this was some random Grindr hookup. Enzo was my client, and he was someone that needed help, so I was giving it to him. If a friendship could grow from the night, then fine, I’d take it. But friendship was where it would all stop. I was sure of that.

“Thank you,” Enzo said, but the way he said it made me feel like he wasn’t simply talking about the beer. He looked up at me as he grabbed the bottle from my hand. Our fingertips touched for a slightest moment, and just like that, time stopped. And I’m not really one for all that fairy-tale bullshit, but I don’t think it was even an exaggeration. Everything was put on pause for an indefinite amount of time. It was a connection I was being forced to recognize, even though all I wanted to do was look past it.

Then the Play button was pressed and life hit me all at once. Thoughts of Jose came rushing at me. Of the buoyant happiness. Of the crippling loneliness. Flashes of our dates, flashes of our fights. What would he have wanted me to do?

I sat down, leaning more toward the left side of the couch. I drank, taking a big gulp. My limbs were already getting that heavy feel to them, while my fingertips seemed to lack any feeling whatsoever. I closed my eyes and let my head drop back. I rolled it around my shoulders, hearing the pops in my neck and taking some twisted satisfaction from the feeling. When I opened my eyes, I saw Enzo examining me.

He wasn’t shy about it. It was that Italian bravado. He oozed confidence and didn’t give a fuck what other people really thought, and so he was going to stare at your face if he damn well wanted to. I would have turned away, but I wanted to stare at him, too. I wanted to memorize the ridges of his cheekbones, the wrinkles in his forehead, the nose that’d never met a fist. His eyes scanned my face, landing on mine, holding my attention like he was a ringleader at the circus. He commanded my gaze. I swallowed, thinking it would somehow break the spell.

It didn’t. I bit my lower lip lightly, a response I wasn’t even fully aware I was giving. His lips quirked into a smile. When did he get so close to me? Or had I moved? I wasn’t next to the armrest anymore. Enzo licked his lips—those lips that had cast a spell on me from the second he walked into my office. Tantalizing. They made me crazy for some reason. It was then I realized I had been actively avoiding looking at his lips the entire night, keeping my focus on his eyes. Now, the resistance was definitely futile. I was looking at those lips like I had just found the last coke in the desert.

That was when our knees touched. A touch that was swift, nothing major. And yet it had my dick waking up like an alarm had just gone off. I sat up straighter on the couch, bringing my legs closer together, moving from the electric current that ran between us. It was in that moment that, if I was letting my more primal side take over, I would have swung to the left, cupped Enzo’s face in my hands, and pulled him toward me so that I could suck on his bottom lip as I ground myself down onto him.

That was my primal side. My logical side had me cemented to the couch, resisting the fire that was beginning to catch and rage inside me. It brought me back to the present, to thinking about how I was fine without needing anyone else on my couch. I didn’t crave having my feet intertwined with another man’s while we watched some dumb reality show, or while we lounged in bed, reading books and watching silly YouTube videos. Nope, I didn’t crave that connection at all. Not anymore.

Enzo must have sensed my tensing up. He took a swig of his beer and then placed it down on the vintage Batman comic turned coaster. “So,” Enzo said, as casually as if he were making small talk on the subway ride home from work. “Where you from?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The question was so far from left field, and Enzo’s slightly awkward yet dripping-in-charm manner had me cracking up. Not to mention that smirk he had on, which quickly evolved into a full-on smile as my laughter spread to him. He sat back on the couch. He opened his legs wider, not that I was staring, but I could see from the corner of my eye.

It made me want to stare. I kept my eyes ahead, focusing my attention on the blank TV hanging on the wall instead.

“I’m from a lot of different places,” I said. I figured the question deserved answering, even if I could have laughed it off and avoided going any deeper. Maybe it was the alcohol that had me loosening up. Yeah. It was definitely the alcohol. I took another drink. It was a smooth pale ale, exactly what I needed. “I was raised in the foster care system. I was born in Philly, but didn’t stick around there for long. I’m the middle child, so it was my older brother and then my sister, who came three years after me. When I was six, both of my parents were involved in a car accident. They, uh, they both got hooked on painkillers, and they both were deemed unable to take care of us by the state.”

“Damn,” Enzo said in a low voice. He reached over and put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. It was a simple yet powerful gesture.

“Both of my parents had small families with no one available to take us, and neither set of grandparents were alive, so we went into the foster system. It was okay at first, until we were moved from our first house and split up. I had a really difficult time then. My brother and I were reunited, but our sister was—”

Suddenly, the room was filled with the sound of a violent crash. It caused the both of us to jump up off the couch. I instinctively put an arm out to cover Enzo’s chest, my hand landing on his beating heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.