Page 24 of Follows with Intent

Jadon couldn’t explain the wave of giggles that rolled over him. He barely fought them back. Nico made a strange noise, and in a moment of disbelief, Jadon realized Nico was fighting the giggles too. Somehow, they both made it to the stairwell, and when the doors swung shut behind them, they dissolved into laughter. Jadon sank down onto the steps, and Nico leaned against him, laughing so hard that he was practically draped over Jadon. And even through the laughter, Jadon was painfully aware of the warmth of lean muscle, the almost-forgotten casual pleasure of skin on skin as Nico’s hand brushed his nape.

Eventually, they quieted. Nico took the glasses off and held them in one hand, a wry smile creasing one cheek.

“You look cute in them,” Jadon said. “If it’s any consolation.”

“They’re so stupid. This was so stupid.” He was still leaning against Jadon, sitting so close that heat stitched a line up Jadon’s side. “God, I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“I’m sorry for—uh, offering you a snack, I guess?”

Nico tapped his head with the glasses.

“Ow,” Jadon said, but he laughed. “What?”

“You know what drives me out of my fucking head? Guys who think they know everything about me because I did some modeling. Did, Jadon. Past tense. I don’t need you picking a restaurant because you know I can get a salad there that’ll be under five hundred calories. I don’t need you worrying about when I ate. I don’t need you controlling how much I eat, or worrying about portions, or any of that bullshit. I’m an adult, and I spent way too much of my life letting what other people thought about my body control me, and I do not fucking need that again.”

His volume rose again at the end, and Jadon waited until the echoes in the stairwell died before saying, “Is that why you were grumpy last night?”

“Grumpy? I was being a world-class bitch. And if you say I wasn’t, I’m going to be offended.”

The grin broke out before Jadon could stop it. He was fairly sure, even though he couldn’t see, that Nico was grinning too. “Okay, here we go, for the record: first, I was going to take you to Salt + Smoke, which is my favorite barbeque place in the city. I didn’t switch to Blueberry Hill because I thought you needed a salad. I switched to Blueberry Hill because you seemed so interested in the Walk of Fame, and Chuck Berry used to play there every month in the Duck Room. Which, you know, was kind of hard to explain when we were sitting at the bar.”

“And when I was icing you out so hard your balls froze off.”

“My balls are fine, thanks. And second, I’m not trying to control what you eat. I’m trying to control what I eat. I keep myself on a pretty strict diet, and it’s hard to eat out. And also, even if you don’t want people controlling what you eat, I think I deserve a little credit for trying to be considerate. I mean, I was being polite, Nico. The same way I’d worry about taking a friend who ate vegan to a place where they could get something they’d enjoy.”

It seemed like a long time before Nico said, “You have friends who are vegan?”

“I dated Shaw, remember?”

“Yeah, how in the hell did that happen?”

Jadon laughed. “We met on a case. And believe it or not, not everybody finds me to be an unmitigated asshole. At least, not on first sight.”

A door on a landing below them opened and closed. Footsteps pummeled the stairs.

Nico straightened, pulling away from Jadon, and the side of Jadon’s body felt cool now. “I’m sorry. Again. Officially, totally, completely sorry. I didn’t—yeah, I’m the unmitigated asshole, and I shouldn’t have, um, projected my bullshit onto you.”

“Well, we’ve got a problem.”

Nico glanced sidelong.

“It’s super hard to get me to accept an apology,” Jadon said. “Like, almost impossible.”

“I’ll buy you pizza.”

“Imo’s.”

“What is Imo’s?”

“You, my friend, are in for a treat.”

It turned out that libraries had strict policies about large, greasy, cheese- and sauce-covered pizzas being carried through their stacks, so when the delivery came, they had to take it to Waverley. They ate on a battered sofa outside the closed coffee shop.

“It’s not pizza,” Nico said. “It’s a cracker.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be groveling?”

Nico flicked sausage at him. It struck Jadon’s cheek, and he rocked backward, like the impact had bowled him over, as he cleaned up the spatter with a napkin.

---