had to do it himself.
He took the long way round the bench so Luis would see him coming, but with his head down and his eyes half closed, Luis didn’t seem to notice.
Paolo stopped in front of him and crouched down, resisting the urge to put his hands on Luis’s knees, but barely. “Hey.”
Luis blinked. “Hey.”
“Why are you sitting in the rain?”
“Why not? Cheaper than a shower.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
Luis shrugged. Of course he did, and fondness warred with frustration in the gigantic Luis-section of Paolo’s heart.
Paolo shook his head. “You’re nuts.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah. It’s fucking freezing out here.”
“Good job I’ve got your hoodie then, isn’t it? Unless you want it back? Is that why you’re here?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I should give you the hoodie.” Luis emptied the pockets of keys, his phone, and an unopened pack of cigarettes. “You want your phone too? I kind of forgot it was yours in the first place.”
“It’s not mine. I gave it to you.”
“You lent it to me so you could get hold of your employee.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like that’s all we’ve got. You don’t want the job, that’s fine, but it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
“Friends don’t push each other around like I did to you. And they don’t bring trouble to your door, so I’m guessing you should call me something else.” Luis stood and unzipped Paolo’s hoodie. He took it off and held it out. “I’ll give you your phone back as soon as I can.”
“I don’t want the phone, and I don’t want this either.” Paolo pushed the hoodie away. “Why are you being like this? What’s he done to you?”
“Who?”
“Your dickhead brother. I know he’s holding something over you.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“Then tell me,” Paolo snapped. “If you don’t want me, I can’t argue with that, but don’t walk out on a job you actually like because of him . . . or because of me. You don’t have to suck my dick to work for me. I told you a hundred times the two things aren’t connected.”
He was shouting by the time he was done, and some of the handful of people who were in the park swivelled round to look at them.
Luis didn’t seem to notice. He stared at Paolo like he’d grown mutant horns. “You think I left because of you?”
“No, I think you left for lots of reasons, and I get that most of them are none of my business, but I got up in your face and backed you into a corner. I know that now, and I’m sorry.”
Luis said nothing. His gaze grew distant again with zero clue of what he was thinking, and the will to keep fighting him drained from Paolo so abruptly he almost fell over.
He belatedly realised he was still crouching on the ground and stood, facing Luis at eye level. “Look, I’m the one who escalated what happened at work. So don’t be apologising for that when it was my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It—” Paolo swallowed down another wave of frustration. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. All I’m saying is there’s a job for you if you still want it. No strings, no obligations. And no more twenty questions, okay? I get that you don’t want me in your life like that.”
Luis shook his head. “You don’t know shit about what I want.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t!” Luis’s voice rose enough for it to crack, and he flinched, as if he’d never heard himself shout before. “I just fucking can’t. I love— Fuck! Just leave it, okay? Leave me. Whatever you think you want from me, it’s not fucking worth it.”
Paolo took every syllable of Luis’s expletive laden despair like a bullet to the gut, and helplessness replaced his anger. He didn’t know what to do. He never had. All he’d done was flail around in his feelings with no clue what they actually meant in real life. He loved Luis, of that he was certain, but what good was that when Luis was drowning in something Paolo could never be part of?
Tears stung his eyes, making him thankful again for the rain.
Luis shivered, and Paolo couldn’t bear it. He found Luis’s cold hand, squeezed it tight, and uttered words he’d spoken once before on a night that had felt like the beginning of something, not the end. “Come home with me . . . please?”
19
Luis was soaked through, they both were. Paolo boiled the kettle before he remembered he’d left the milk