“Wow.” My stomach did this weird flippy thing at the idea of Joe hurt.
“Yeah. I had months and months of terrible headaches.” Joe’s voice went more distant as he switched on some sort of sensor wand that lit up as he tested various wires in the square opening in the wall. “Had to drop my classes. Lost my scholarship when it became clear that going back to football wasn’t an option.”
“Oh man, that sucks.”
“Actually, it was kind of a blessing in disguise. I didn’t really have a true direction for my life and being out in football is still a dicey prospect at best.”
Oh. I tried not to let my eyebrows raise too much, but that didn’t stop a little thrill from racing up my spine at Joe’s admission. “Being out in track is a little easier, but I feel you. I had people who knew, but I never did any sort of public coming out either.”
“Right.” Joe nodded, air suddenly heavy with our shared acknowledgment. But Joe seemed determined to give that news a wide berth as he traded out tools. “Anyway, I needed a game plan beyond playing ball. Working with my dad as my headaches started to ease, gave me a purpose. He paid for me to get my certifications, and he was happy to bring me on board, but trust me, it’s not me caving to family pressure.”
“You’re happy, though?” This mattered to me, and I wasn’t even sure why. Maybe part of it was my own uncertainty over the future, but some of it was also an unexpected concern for Joe. “Doing electrical work?”
“Yep. Good, honest work. Days go fast. Plenty of challenges and variety.” He motioned for me to hand him the faceplate then quickly screwed it back in place. “And there we go. All fixed.”
“That was it?”
“Should be. We’ll flip the power back on in a sec, and I’ll give you my number in case it goes off again, but I found a short, fixed it.”
“Wow.” I blinked against the light after Joe restored the power. He began packing away his tools, and I realized he’d be gone in another minute or two. Suddenly, my evening stretched long and empty in front of me. I liked talking with Joe, wanted to hear more about his family and football and electrical stuff. “Can I thank you?”
“Uh?” The faint pink stain on Joe’s cheeks told me I’d maybe phrased that wrong. Or perhaps he too had realized the situation’s proximity to all those repair-dude porno scenarios.
“I meant… A drink? I don’t have coffee, but—”
“Hold up, a barista with no coffee?” Joe’s laugh was rich, and I didn’t mind his teasing tone.
“I don’t really drink it,” I admitted. This was part of why I wasn’t a great barista yet—I wasn’t as familiar with the drink lineup as some. “Too bitter. I’ve got tea though. Lots of flavors. And fancy water the professor left.”
I wished I had some beer or something more adult-sounding, but with strict rules around drinking during the track season, I’d never developed much taste for alcohol.
“That’s okay. You don’t owe me a drink.” Joe’s rejection was almost too gentle, like he was trying hard to spare my feelings and, strangely, that made me want him to stay more, not less. I didn’t want to be some kid he was trying to soothe.
“Pizza? I got my first check today, so that was going to be my treat to myself.”
“Wild Friday-night plans.” That wasn’t a no, but Joe’s voice was still too kind, too big brother-y, and too damn hard to read.
“We could share? And then you’d be around if it starts beeping again.” I tried appealing to his electrician ethics as well as his stomach.
“Is this you feeling obligated because I helped you out, or do you actually want me to stay?” Tone cautious, Joe peered deep into my eyes.
I wasn’t sure I liked the feeling that he could see what was happening inside me. I felt weirdly vulnerable, on display almost, and it would have been easy to mutter something to the floor rather than give him a real answer.
But then he would leave.
And that would be a problem because I didn’t want him to go, and I wasn’t sure he did either. So I sucked in a breath and summoned my courage. “I want you to stay.”
Chapter Five
Joe
I wanted to stay. I liked being around Levi away from the coffee shop, liked the way he listened and tried to help. The way he took direction so well and tried to anticipate what I needed was a massive turn-on. Which was exactly why I shouldn’t stay, shouldn’t eat his pizza and drink his tea, and shouldn’t pretend like maybe we could be friends. He was enough younger than me—along with his ever-present vulnerable vibe—that I needed to be the mature one and say no.
Except he was vulnerable, and his eyes were soft and big as he added, “Please.”
And that I couldn’t turn down. Him begging was turning out to be my personal kryptonite, the thing that undid all the careful control that I was usually so proud of.
“Okay.” I held up a hand when he smiled. “But we can split the order. You don’t owe me dinner for a favor I was more than happy to do.”
That, and I wasn’t about to make a guy who’d been counting down to his first check at a new job foot the bill for dinner, when I could have easily paid for us both. He had that stubborn tilt to his chin though, a pride there that I admired, so I settled for offering to split.
“Awesome.” His grin was floodlight bright and just as blinding, putting my common sense even more at risk. He pulled out his phone as we walked back to the living room. “I’ve only been here less than a month, so I’m gonna have to rely on the review site to pick a place, unless you’ve got a preference.”
“Mario’s Pizza,” I said automatically. “The main location is close to here, so we’ll get fast delivery, but they’ve got the best New York style crust in town and decent wings and other sides.”
“Sounds great.” His expression was almost comically grateful as he paced with his phone. “Tell me what you want.”
Oh, wasn’t that a loaded question. What I wanted from him and those full pink lips wasn’t going to be on any online order form and was most assuredly not on his personal menu. Not trusting the look of the spindly side chairs, I took a seat on the couch.
“My standard is an order of the original wings to split and the Godfather topping combo on my part of the pizza, but if you’re vegetarian or something, I can be flexible.”
“Not vegetarian, but I want to try the roasted-red pepper topping. Now that I’m out of the dorms, I’m bad about remembering to eat vegetables. If that’s okay?”
The way he looked toward me for approval almost made me groan. He was too perfect, and the universe was clearly into tempting me because he sat next to me on the couch rather than take one of the chairs. He wore a faded T-shirt advertising a track meet in Delaware and loose athletic shorts. His toned, fuzzy legs and bare feet were highly distracting, and it was weirdly intimate seeing him outside of his usual barista clothes.
“It’s fine,” I assured him. “That’s a tasty flavor too. Add a salad if you need even more green stuff.”