his dinner when he woke up.
He shivered at the memory of John’s nails lightly scratching at his scalp. It had felt so soothing that there had been no way Lukas could have gotten up while he was doing it.
Why had John touched him like that? It seemed… intimate. Even if his parents had sent him to come find Lukas when he didn’t show for dinner, why would John act that way if he didn’t feel something for Lukas?
Hold your horses. Wanting John to have feelings for him wasn’t the same thing as John actually having them. Maybe he’d dreamed the part where John had touched him. It was all a little hazy, so he couldn’t be sure, but it made as much—if not more—sense than John rubbing his head while he tried to wake Lukas up.
Either way, he was going to go grab the food, thank John, and leave. His plan to get over the man hadn’t changed because of one maybe-touch or a swim in the lake. John was an amazing person, but Lukas couldn’t make him feel the same way about him.
Mind made up, he raised his chin and headed out of his cabin. He could hear some laughter and loud voices down by the firepit, but he turned left instead, something telling him John wasn’t down there and that he was probably in his own cabin. Like Lukas, John preferred his own company more often than not. Lukas had heard his dad cajoling John many times over the years to try and get him to go out with him instead of chilling at home.
Lukas ignored the fact that they had that in common and resolutely trudged up the cabin steps.
When he knocked on the door, John’s voice called out, “Come in.” His heart started beating a little faster, but he clenched his hands into fists and took two deep breaths before turning the handle. He stopped short right inside the door.
“What on earth…?” He stared at John on his back on the floor, knees bent and feet planted.
John grimaced but didn’t move. “Messed up my back playing volleyball.”
Nodding, Lukas just stared at him for a moment. “You dove for the ball, didn’t you?”
Chuckling, John winced. “Maybe. You know how competitive I get. Plus, that douche, Scott, ate my plate of food while I was checking on you, so I couldn’t let him win. Who the fuck does that?”
John’s easy mentioning of his trip to Lukas’s cabin surprised him. He sucked in a breath. “Well, I guess that answers my question about whether that was some weird dream.”
Just as he was wondering if he should offer John a hand, he sat up, straightened his legs into a V in front of him, and bent forward, reaching out as far as he could. Eyebrows raised, Lukas stepped fully inside the cabin and closed the door.
“I take it you didn’t throw your back out?”
John snorted. “I’m not that old. I just have a twinge and some pain in my lower back, so I’m trying to stretch it out. Your food’s in the fridge by the way.”
For a long moment, Lukas couldn’t take his eyes off John’s body, his mind going to all kinds of places it shouldn’t when he realized John was more flexible than he looked. He started edging around the room, heading for the mini fridge in the kitchenette. “Okay. Thank you.”
John just kind of grunted an acknowledgment as he changed positions again, crossing one leg over the other and placing his opposite elbow on his knee to help him twist around. As Lukas collected his covered plate, he winced in sympathy when John hissed.
“Are you going to be okay?” He carried his dinner over to the door, prepared to go and eat by himself in his own cabin.
John looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah. If I’m still in pain in a day or two, I’ll call my massage therapist and get in to see her as soon as I get home. Though she’ll probably scold me for not doing my stretches more often.” He eyed Lukas for a moment. “Can you stick around a minute? I wanted to apologize and talk to you about… maybe giving me another chance.”
“Oh, um…” His eyes widened as John stood way more gracefully than Lukas thought he should with an injured back. Another chance at what, his brain screamed at him. Being friends? Being more than friends?
John walked over and stopped about a foot away from Lukas. “Please?”
“Okay,” he said