Chapter 12

Eric

 

“I could stand to do some laundry today,” Andrew said over breakfast our second morning back in Rome. “But I don’t want to cut into your vacation again, so if you want to go out, we can meet up later.”

“Actually, I probably need to do some too. And I’m not against the idea of spending another day being as lazy as humanly possible.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Still sore from Pompeii?”

“So sore. I don’t think sitting on the train helped much.”

“No kidding. I thought I was going to die just walking back from the train station.”

Eric groaned. “That walk was the most brutal three blocks in the history of walking. I was seriously tempted to just bite the bullet and take a cab.”

I laughed. “I thought it was just me.”

“God, no. I’m not nearly as sore today, but yesterday’s tours didn’t help.”

“Ugh, no.” The tours of Palatine Hill and the Forum had been interesting, but Jesus, my feet hurt. “Maybe an easy day is what we need, then.”

“Definitely. So, laundry?”

“Laundry.”

We finished breakfast and went back to the room to get our things together.

Traveling with him seriously was, like everything else, so easy. Make plans on the fly? No problem. Get up at the crack of dawn so we can get in first? Cool. Spend a lazy day doing laundry and resting our sore feet? On it. No bitching. No arguing.

Thanks to the hotel’s Wi-Fi, it didn’t take much to find a lavanderia, and there happened to be one about fifteen minutes away by taxi. The place was empty when we walked in, so we took a washer close to the open window near the back. At least that meant a cross breeze; with no air conditioning, we needed all the air flow we could get.

The lavanderia itself didn’t have Wi-Fi, but it picked up a signal from a café on one side and what I thought was a bar. We perused our email and social media, then put our phones aside and talked about whatever.

By the time we were on our second load of laundry, the place was starting to swelter. Between the machines and the heat of the day, we were both sweating, even with the cool air coming in through the window.

“You want something to drink?” I gestured outside. “I think there’s a shop a couple doors down.”

“Sure. If you can get me a bottle of water or something, I’ll keep an eye on everything here.” He nodded at the washing machine.

“All right. I’ll be back in a second.” I trailed my fingers along his arm as I walked past, but he caught my wrist and reeled me back to him.

“Nobody else here,” he purred.

“Mmm, you’re right.” I leaned down for a kiss. Right there in the laundromat, out in public, we let the kiss linger for a moment longer than we probably needed to. Because why the hell not? When I broke the kiss, we exchanged mischievous grins, and with my lips still tingling, I left in search of some cold drinks.

The little shop was more crowded than I’d anticipated. The narrow aisles were packed with people, and the line at the register was long enough to reach the back of the store. The store was also nice and cool, though, so I didn’t bitch about standing in line, especially with two cold bottles of water in my hands. I’d have to send Andrew over here just to enjoy the cool air.

I finally made it to the front of the line and paid. Before walking out, I opened my water bottle and took a few swallows, enjoying the A/C for a moment longer. Then I hurried back to the lavanderia so Andrew could cool down too.

When I returned, though, Andrew wasn’t alone in the laundromat anymore, and I recognized the other man’s body language the instant I walked in. As close as he was standing to Andrew, as focused as he was on him, as big as he was smiling—the flirtation radiated off him like cheap cologne.

He immediately set my teeth on edge. I wasn’t usually one to get jealous or possessive, particularly with someone I’d just started seeing. I also wasn’t usually faced with the prospect of my new man being drawn away by someone like that.

The olive-skinned, black-haired guy was someone even a strictly monogamous couple would have on their “fucking him doesn’t count as cheating” list. Everything about him was… holy Christ. Hot. A deep tan. Shoulders that didn’t quit. An ass that just begged for a bite mark. The son of a bitch probably had a six-pack and a Rolex too. Could I really blame Andrew for holding his gaze and smiling at him like that?

As soon as Andrew saw me, he smiled. “Oh thank God.” He held out a hand, practically drooling at the sight of the water I’d brought him. “You’re a lifesaver.”

The Italian turned toward me and didn’t seem overly fazed by my presence as I handed the bottle over to Andrew.

“Thank you, baby. Oh my God.” Andrew held the cold drink in both hands and sighed blissfully. Then he nodded toward me, and before he’d even taken a gulp, said, “This is my boyfriend, Eric.”

“Oh.” The Italian tensed and immediately put a little space between himself and Andrew. He offered me a smile and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” I shook his hand, and the blush in his cheeks eased some of the tension in my shoulders. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t been trying to elbow his way in. He seemed genuinely surprised that Andrew had a—that Andrew was with someone else, so I could buy that he hadn’t swooped in the moment my back was turned. I was obviously just being paranoid. Once cheated, twice shy, apparently.

He let go of my hand and bowed out. I watched him go, and when he disappeared around the corner, I exhaled.

“Hey.” Andrew nudged me gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” I turned to him, trying to play it cool. “What?”

His eyebrow rose. “Come on. Don’t bullshit me. I practically felt your hackles go up when you walked in.”

Heat rushed into my face.

“Eric.” He smiled as he hooked his fingers in my belt loops and pulled me closer. “I stayed here so I could be with you. I’m not going to ditch you for another guy.”

“I know. I…” I shook my head, sighing as my cheeks burned even hotter. “You know you don’t have to stay with me, though, right? Because I just don’t want you feeling obligated, you know? Like you have to be glued to my hip every minute?”

Andrew searched my eyes, his grip on my belt loops loosening slightly. “Do you want me to be with you every minute?”

“I…” I hesitated, not sure where the lines were. I didn’t want to be too clingy, and I also didn’t want to invite clinginess. But having him with me all the time? Being in the same room with him even when we were doing something as boring as laundry in a sweltering lavanderia? Yeah. Yeah, I did want that. Sliding my arms around him, I smiled uncertainly. “As long as you’re not here because you think you have to be, yes. I do.”

The sweetest, shyest smile came to life on his lips, and he drew me in closer. “Then don’t worry about guys like that.” He smoothed my hair. “I’m not going to lie and tell you he didn’t turn my head, but—”

“You’re a red-blooded gay man,” I said with a playful smirk. “I would hope he turned your head.”

Andrew laughed, his flushed cheeks darkening a couple of shades. “Right. He’s attractive. Just like that waiter we were joking about having a threesome with when we first got here and the one in Sorrento whose ass I know you noticed.” He reeled me in closer and wrapped his arms around my waist. “But think about it. I bailed on my flight home so I could spend two more weeks with you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, desperately wanting to believe him but still stupidly insecure.

“I mean it.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “I’m here because I want to be with you.”

I couldn’t even make a joke about him needing to stay with me because I had the room key—we’d left it at the front desk on our way out. If he really wanted to, he could go back to the room, collect his things, and stay someplace else until it was time for him to catch his plane. He could have gone off with the hot Italian guy who’d clearly been interested in him.

But he hadn’t. When he said he wanted to be here, I couldn’t disbelieve him, no matter how much my insecurities wanted to rear up and make a mess of things. I obviously had nothing to worry about, and I just needed to get a grip and stop projecting Chris onto Andrew.

Except… nothing to worry about? Maybe I didn’t have to worry about Andrew running off with a gorgeous Italian man if I turned my back, but nothing to worry about… at all?

I wasn’t so sure about that. Not with the way my heart went crazy every time I looked at him. Not with how my entire body reacted every time we stole a touch or a kiss, especially in public.

As he took a long drink from the bottle of water I’d brought him, I surreptitiously watched him, and renewed nerves tightened behind my ribs.

I don’t have to worry about you taking off with someone else.

But I should probably worry a little about whether or not I’ll be able to leave when we get to the end.

Because I already know I don’t want to.