Mandy gave him the finger and a pissy look, which only made Jason more bold. Mandy liked the attention, though. She liked any and all attention. But Jason was right, she never stopped talking. And never about anything that interested Dimitri. She talked about frat parties, and football games, and, well, Dimi. She’d been trying to get with him since the start of senior year, and not even his sexual orientation seemed to stop her constant attempts to trick him into a date.
But Dimitri only had eyes for Arlo. Sweet, soft, dangerously pretty Arlo. As if he could hear his thoughts, the boy looked up from behind the counter and gave him a timid smile. It didn’t meet his eyes. Arlo hadn’t given him a genuine smile since that piece of shit, Holden, had shown up in his life.
“I can’t. I have to work,” Dimitri said. “I’m closing tonight. Remember?”
Mandy pouted, her bottom lip pooching out in a look that wasn’t nearly as cute as she thought it was. “Can’t you get somebody to cover for you? Like that kid with all the acne.”
The kid in question was Remi, and he would have laughed if he’d heard Mandy’s assessment of his looks. Remi’s skin wasn’t clear but that didn’t stop the girls from throwing themselves at him. He was smart, funny, and his family was filthy rich. And, somehow, he was still a nice guy.
But no, Dimitri couldn’t ask Remi to cover for him because Remi was already scheduled to close with Arlo. Dimitri would be off in twenty minutes. But he wasn’t about to tell Mandy that. She was like a dog with a bone. She wouldn’t let it go until she either dragged him to the party or he lost his shit and told her to get lost. Neither of those things were particularly appealing to him.
“I’ll ask,” Dimitri lied.
“Yay,” Mandy said, bouncing on the balls of her feet and clapping her hands like she was about to break out in a cheer. Jason rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to his laptop. He’d been pretending to study since they’d sat down, but really, he was keeping an eye on Mandy. Jason really liked Mandy.
Dimitri made a production out of pulling his phone free and typing out a text to Remi, just not the one Mandy expected. Can I take your shift tonight?
The reply was instantaneous. Shit, pretty boy. You can take all my shifts.
Dimitri did his best to hide his smirk. I just need this one. Thanks. Oh, and if anybody asks, I was always scheduled to work this shift. Cool?
The eyeball emoji popped up, then, Anybody? Would anybody be stalker Barbie?
Dimitri’s only response was a thumbs up. With that settled, he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his apron and shrugged. “He said there’s no way. It’s his mom’s birthday.”
Mandy scrunched up her face. “I thought his mom was dead?”
Was she? What the fuck did he know? “Maybe he meant existentially. We’re all a little dead inside, right? Maybe some other time.”
Jason smirked behind Mandy, knowing full well that Dimitri was jumping through hoops trying to disentangle himself from her.
“You say that every time,” she said, voice sullen.
And yet, you just keep asking. “I gotta get back to work.” Mandy frowned, looking around the deserted shop, but he didn’t give an explanation, just some semblance of a smile that faded as soon as he turned away from her. He heard the door open and close, signaling they’d left, but he didn’t look back.
He entered the back area using the side door in the hallway. Arlo was cleaning the steam valve with a white cloth, his up and down movement unintentionally suggestive. Dimitri would give up almost anything to feel Arlo’s hand wrap around him that way.
Arlo dropped the rag, giving Dimitri a lopsided smile. “Did you just lie to get out of a party?”
Dimitri returned his smile. “I didn’t lie. I took Remi’s shift for him.”
Arlo narrowed his eyes. “When?”
Dimitri grinned. “Just now.”
Arlo’s responding grin was a gut punch, stealing his breath. Mandy described Arlo as a pretty twink, but he wasn’t just pretty, he was perfect. He had golden skin and golden blonde hair that he wore swept back off his face like some actor in a vintage movie. Remi said he looked like James Dean. Dimitri could see the resemblance but Arlo was just sweeter, softer, innocent. He had this perfectly symmetrical face with high cheekbones that looked like they’d been sculpted by the gods.
And then there were his lips. Full and always cherry red, like he’d been chewing at them. Dimitri often thought of those lips when he was alone at night. Normally, they were glossy from chapstick or from Arlo’s tongue sweeping along his lower lip several times a day. Today, those lips were swollen, the bottom one split and red with dried blood. A purple bruise marred the left side of his mouth.
Arlo always had bruises. He made excuses. He walked into the wall, fell down the stairs, bumped into an open cabinet door. Just clumsy. I’m always daydreaming. It was a lie. It was always a lie. They both knew it. But something in Arlo’s eyes always begged Dimitri not to say it, not to say the thing out loud that would make it real.
Dimitri kept quiet. The last time he’d interceded on Arlo’s behalf, he’d lost sixteen years with him. Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want to risk losing him again. But he planned. He dreamed. He fantasized about the day he’d get revenge for what Arlo had suffered.
And he did suffer. Black eyes. Finger-shaped bruises on his arms and neck. A spiral fracture that he claimed he’d gotten from slipping on ice. Dimitri knew those kinds of fractures only happened for one reason—somebody had twisted his arm behind his back hard enough to break it.
No, not somebody. Holden. Arlo’s closeted, dick bag, football player boyfriend from a rival school. Holden had money, connections, and had clearly never heard the word no. Arlo, like many abused kids, had transitioned from abusive parents to abusive boyfriends without much fanfare. It would almost break Dimitri’s heart…if he’d had one.
Still, the bruise on his face was new. It hadn’t been there last night when they’d closed. He gravitated closer until he was directly behind Arlo, who gasped when he spun around and saw Dimitri directly behind him, trapping him against the counter.
Dimitri reached out and caught Arlo’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, watching as Arlo’s honey brown eyes went wide, a small gasp leaving his lips. Dimitri wanted to swallow that sound, wanted to feel his pulse flutter beneath his fingers, wanted to hear Arlo gasp his name.
Instead, he dragged the pad of his thumb across the cut on Arlo’s lip, his temper flaring when Arlo winced.
“What happened?” Dimitri murmured. “Did he do this to you?”
Before Arlo could answer or give him some lame excuse, the bell over the coffee shop door swung open. Arlo instantly ducked from under Dimitri’s arm. “Thanks for visiting Hallowed Grounds…” His voice trailed off.
Dimitri turned to see Holden standing there, his expression mutinous as he looked back and forth between the two of them. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
Holden was two inches shorter than Dimitri’s six foot two, but he was a walking brick wall of bulging muscles and testosterone. The idea of somebody that big throwing around Arlo sent a shock of adrenaline firing through him. Some caveman part of Dimitri pictured slamming Holden’s face into the counter until his teeth shattered and blood spewed from his caved-in face. Nobody touched what belonged to Dimitri.