SAM
Hangovers are nasty, nasty beasts. My head pounds as if it’s trying to recreate last night’s music. Boom-boom-boom.
After drinking 3 large glasses of water, I take a shower. When the cooking timer goes off, I clench my jaw. You’ve got to be kidding me. No way was that 5 minutes. I step out of the shower, dripping onto the mat, and turn the bloody thing off. Then, I hop back under the warm water and let myself indulge. Just this once.
Unfortunately, I only get another 2 minutes before Jeremy starts pounding on the door. “Dad, hurry up, you’re taking forever.”
I groan and tell him to go away.
“I gotta shower and go see Steven.”
I rest my head on the plastic wall, hoping the pressure will make my headache disappear. “Can’t you shower at your mum’s and leave me alone?”
My boy laughs. “Okay, Dad. But you’re so not getting away with this. Wonder what Mum’ll think?”
I hear his retreating steps and open the shower door to call out, “Leave your mother out of this!”
I quickly turn off the taps, grab a towel, and wrap it around my waist. “Jeremy?” I say as I charge down the hall. I yank open the front door, hoping I’ll still catch him, but I end up banging into Luke.
Peering over his shoulder, I say, “You didn’t happen to see Jeremy, did you?”
Luke runs a quick glance down me, and smirks. “Saw him flying off down the road.”
“Dammit. Carole’s never going to let me hear the end of it.”
An evil grin twitches at Luke’s lips. “She’s not the only one.”
Looking at him—at his lips—flashes of the night before come back to me.
I blink away from him and step back inside, hands tightening on the towel around my hips. My skin prickles as a warm breeze floats over us. I think it might be remembering what I did to Luke last night, but I feel blood rushing to my face and I’m so aware of being only half-dressed.
“Er . . . get inside and make us coffee. I’m gonna get into some clothes.”
Luke comes in, carrying a shopping bag I only just notice. “Right. You stop flaunting your nipple ring, and I’ll make us brunch.”
My hand flies to my piercing, and I can’t stop from blushing further. I fiddle with the metal as I try to think of something to say. Luke is shifting his shopping to his other hand, but I do catch him looking at my nipple again. I pull my hand away from the ring. “This thing feels pretty damn awesome, you know.”
Luke’s face contorts and he bites his lip.
“Too much info?” I ask, laughing as I turn my back on him and move down the hall.
He mumbles something, but I don’t hear him. I chuck on some shorts and a T-shirt. I spike my hair with some gel and, for the finishing touch, slide my sunglasses on. I look over the edges of them and wink at myself in the mirror. “You look pretty fucking ridiculous, Sam. Well done.”
When I enter the kitchen, Luke is sliding a tray into the oven. He looks over at me and straightens. “And how do you feel this morning?”
“Stop laughing at me.” I slump on a seat at the table and cross an ankle over my knee. “But to answer you, I could feel better.”
Luke comes over with 2 mugs of coffee and hands me one. “Well you certainly looked like you had fun last night.”
He looks down at my lips and I’m pretty sure he’s remembering our little experiment. I’m not sure if I should bring it up—maybe make a light joke of it—or pretend I don’t remember. What if he’s hoping I was so out of it that I’ve forgotten?
“The dancing was fun, I suppose. But I’m not sure it’s worth how I’m feeling now.” I take a drink of coffee and hum at the goodness of it. Luke sits opposite me, relaxing back into his seat as he casually looks out the window. “Um,” I say, “thank you.”
“What for?”
I take another sip. “For picking me up. For cleaning the bathroom last night.”
He shrugs. “No worries.”
The table creaks as I rest my mug down. “Um . . . just to be a real pain in the ass, do you think you can drop me off in town to pick up my car?”
“It’s on the plan I have for us for today.”
I rest my arms on the table and lean in. “You have a plan? Tell me more.”
“Okay, well . . . it’s a bit different, but a friend of mine runs a carpentry class. I thought we should try it out.”
I bite my lip. It sounds great, and I want to do it—especially since it’s something else on my list I can cross off after—but I think of the measly 10 dollars I have left. “I’d love to, Luke, but, um, could we do it next weekend—or anytime after payday?”
He shakes his head and flashes me that double-dimpled grin of his. “Nope. And don’t worry. First time’s free.”
A delicious scent is coming from the kitchen, and I hop off my chair to check it out. I peek into the oven and there are 4 mince pies baking. It’s like Luke has read my mind.
I look over the kitchen bench at him. The sun is streaming over him and his profile is golden and warm. Hazel strands of his dark brown hair glow, and his lips . . .
I swallow at the same time he looks over at me, and then quickly crouch down out of view and take in the mince pies once more.
I hear his chair scrape back and then his footsteps as he comes into the kitchen. He looks down at me, folds his arms and frowns. “Watch-pies never bake, you know,” he says. But he crouches down next to me nevertheless.
He’s not looking at the oven though. He’s looking at me. “You remember what happened with us last night.”
It’s not a question. It’s a statement. Panic seizes me, and I don’t understand it, but my immediate reaction is to shake my head.
Luke cocks his head and studies me for a moment. “I don’t believe you,” he says. “But okay.” He looks at the pies. “We can leave it if that’s what you want.”
I don’t know how to respond or what to say, and he’s given me an out. It’s easy and accessible, and I take it.
But the mince pies don’t taste as good as they should after that. And I’m aware of Luke in a way I haven’t ever been before, and it makes me nervous. He’s not just my friend gazing out of the window; he’s also a man whose lips I’ve felt against my own, whose tongue twisted with mine. It’s unsettling to think I’ve kissed a guy, but even more unsettling is that it makes my cock stir.
It’s the taboo in it, I think. The thrill of doing something a lot of people frown upon.
That, and kissing him last night made me feel free. Like I really am living my 20s.
Yeah, that’s what’s making me stir. Not a guy. Just the freedom he represents.
Freedom you wouldn’t mind a little more of. I swallow that desire down with my mince pie. But the way my body feels itchy and excited inside, I don’t know how long it’ll stay down.
I leave half of the piecrust on my plate and lean back in my chair, trying to get comfortable—or at least appear to be—but it’s a lost cause. I’m too stiff and it doesn’t help that my head is still pounding—with both the headache and my thoughts about Luke.
He glances at me, his eyes shadowed with his own thoughts, and I wonder if last night bothers him at all. Or if maybe, like me, he also found the kiss liberating and . . . exciting?
“Are you ready to go?” he asks, stacking our plates and taking them to the kitchen. “The class starts at one. It’s in the city, so I can drop you off at your car after.”
I get up slowly, readjusting my sunglasses. I’m glad I have them on for how much I’ve been staring at my friend. “Yeah.” I clap my hands together in a show of enthusiasm I’m struggling to feel. “I’m ready to take an interest class. Bring it on.”
Luke would usually laugh at something I said that was so lame, but this time, his lips don’t even twitch. He’s moved back to the table and is wiping it down.
He chucks the cloth into the sink, and then nods at the table. “Okay then. We’re off.”
And with that, he picks up the round table in an impressive display of strength and carries it on his back to his truck.