Xavier

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It was after six thirty in the morning by the time I reached the bar. I used my key to unlock the kitchen door, relocked it behind me, and headed upstairs. The light over the kitchen table was on, and Bast was sitting there, a mug of coffee in his hands, a glower on his face.

“Where ya been, Xavier?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

I was still out of breath, sweating, gasping, and the dregs of my panic attack were still laced through my brain. My response was, perhaps, less than mature.

“Out.”

Bast frowned, reached over to pour coffee into his mug, then snagged another mug and poured coffee into it for me, gesturing at a chair. “Anyone else around here and a monosyllabic answer would be no big deal. With you, not so much. So I’ll ask again—where you been, Xavier?”

“I don’t owe you answers, Sebastian,” I snapped. “You’re not my fucking father.”

He blinked at me, setting his coffee down very slowly. “Well now,” he drawled. “That ain’t like you either, bro.”

I heaved a long sigh, and slumped into the chair, thudding my forehead onto the table. “I’m sorry, Bast.”

“You’re out all night—for the first time in your entire life as far as I know. You come back looking like someone just shot your favorite cat, you’re using contractions and talking like a person instead of a damn robot, you snap at me, and you swear at me.” He smirked, amused more than anything else. “Bottle of Johnnie Walker says there’s a girl in this.”

I lifted my head to stare at him. “How would you know?”

He laughed. “Because only a woman can fuck us up as much as you’re fucked up right now.”

I took the coffee and sipped it. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She owns a yacht that I estimate to be very, very expensive. She is cultured, and intelligent, and educated. She is comfortable in silence, and easy to talk to.” I met Bast’s eyes. “Her touch brings something out in me which I never even knew existed, or was even possible.”

Bast stared at me. “You let her touch you? Like, close enough to make actual contact?”

I nodded, staring now into my coffee. “We have held hands. She has touched my shoulder, and my chest, and my face.”

Bast’s eyebrows lifted. “No kidding. Anything else?”

I swallowed hard. “We…I—there was a kiss.”

Bast whistled low, a sound of disbelief. “No fucking way.” He reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it. “Buddy, you’re growing up!”

I narrowed my eyes at him, withdrawing my hand. “I do not find that humorous, Sebastian.”

He held up his hands. “Okay, okay, sorry.” A frown crossed his face. “So, this chick is hot, classy, rich, and you kissed her. What’s the issue?”

“Where do I even start?” I asked. “She’s…Low is out of my league, to use a popular phrase. Beautiful, hot, gorgeous—there aren’t enough words to describe how perfect she is. She seems to like me. My quirks do not bother her—if anything, she seems to like them, finds them funny, or endearing, or…I don’t know.”

“And how do you feel about her?”

“Words fail me.”

Bast quirked an eyebrow. “Gonna have to unpack that one, bud.”

I struggled for words. “I have never, ever felt such an intense physical attraction. Need, desire, craving—language fails to encompass the intensity of what I feel when I look at her, or think about her.”

“Damn. That’s pretty intense.” He swirled his mug in circles and then glanced at me again. “Is just physical?”

“No.”

“Do you have any idea how she feels about you? I mean, does she seem like she’s attracted to you?”

I nodded. “I believe she is. But…that’s part of why I’m upset—I don’t know. I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust that I understand her, that I’m reading her properly. You know how I am, socially. I miss things. I misread social cues. I want to believe she likes me, that she feels attracted to me.”

“What makes you think so?”

I blushed, looking down at the table. “She…um—it’s…body language, I suppose. Leaning toward me. Touching my hand or my chest when she looks at me, or laughs at something I say. What seem to be intentional physical movements designed to allow glimpses at her, in certain…um, ways.”

Bast chuckled. “So she, like, leans over just right so you can see down her shirt, or bends over with her ass right front of you, or leans in real close when she’s talking, like you’re the most interesting person who’s ever lived and she’s hanging on your every word?”

“Yes, precisely.”

“She’s into you, dude.”

“But…why?”

Another chuckle. “Every guy asks himself that when a girl who’s out of his league is into him. Don’t ask why, just go with it.”

I shake my head. “I am not capable of not asking why, for many reasons.”

“She likes you. Why does anyone like anyone? Something just clicks, man. You interest her.” Bast tossed back his coffee and poured us more. “And dude, Xavier, you’re a fascinating guy, okay? You are by far the smartest person I’ve ever heard of, let alone met. You’re funny when you want to be. You’re a good listener. And plus, you’re a Badd. Which means you’re a damn good-lookin’ motherfucker, all right? You got Mom’s eyes, and Dad’s height, and you’re shredded—what’s not to like?”

I blushed. “Thank you for the motivational speech.”

Bast snorted. “I was bein’ serious, douchebag.”

“So was I. Thank you, I mean it.” I sighed. “But for reasons I’m not prepared to explain, that does not alleviate my doubt, and my inability to trust that she could actually like me.”

“Someone hurt you, I’m guessing?”

I nodded, not looking at him. “Yes. Very badly.”

“So, what happened?”

I shook my head. “I can’t…I can’t talk about that.”

“Fair enough.” Bast tapped the side of his mug with his wedding ring. “So what happened with your girl? What’d you say her name was? Lola?”

“Low.”

“Low. Cool name,” he said. “So, what happened? Why’re you here all pissed off and crazy?”

“We…we were watching a show. She was very close to me all evening, what one might term cuddling, I suppose. That was nice, and as long as I didn’t think about it too much, it was okay. Extraordinarily pleasant, and yet overwhelming at the same time.” I swallowed hard. “And then…we kissed. She was wearing a robe, and—and not much else. Nothing else, to be truthful. My desire for her was…it was out of control. I felt crazed. Even now it blinds me, makes me dizzy, unable to think straight. I had a panic attack.”

“Because of how bad you wanted her? She was kissing you, so clearly she was into it. I don't think she’d have minded if you took it further.”

“That was part of it, but…the panic attack was because of having been hurt, previous to this encounter. I was…I was scared.” I sighed. “The panic attack triggered my issue with physical touch, which made me panic all the worse. So I…I ran.”

Bast was silent. “You explain any of this to her?”

I shook my head. “No. Where would I begin?”

“I’m just guessing here, but I’m thinking she’s probably confused.” He shrugged. “Not saying you owe her an explanation, but…you kinda owe the girl an explanation.”

“I hadn’t considered how my actions would affect her.”

Bast chuckled. “Yeahhh…” he drawled, “you may want to start doing that.”

“What if I can’t explain it?”

“If you can explain the theory of relativity to me in such a way that I almost understand it, I think you can explain your physical touch hang-up to a girl who seems to be seriously into you.”

I laughed. “The theory of relativity makes sense to me. My feelings do not, nor do women.”

“Amen to that, brother. But still, you need to try.” He leaned back in the chair, tipping onto the rear legs. “I’ve never seen you this worked up in your life, and I’ve certainly never seen you into a girl. If she can catch your interest, and if you can get over the touch thing even sometimes, I think you owe it to yourself to see where this thing could go.”

“That is a truly terrifying prospect, Sebastian.”

He dropped his chair to all fours, leaned across the table, and clapped me on the shoulder with a heavy hand, making me wince involuntarily.

“Welcome to the world of women, brother,” he said, grinning wolfishly.