Page 3 of Just a Number

I’m upstairs, scrolling my Netflix queue, trying to work out what I’m in the mood for. Something funny? Scary? A tear-jerker perhaps? Ooh, maybe some true crime. I can’t go wrong with that.

The doorbell rings and I listen out to see if Zack’s heard it. The noise levels got a bit crazy a while ago when they were in the midst of some kind of battle challenge and that’s when I decided to hide away upstairs for some peace. I can’t hear if Zack is moving around and I’m hungry enough that I don’t want the pizza delivery guy to leave, so I head back down.

“Zack, pizza’s here,” I shout as I swing the front door wide open. I have a smile ready for this delightful person who has delivered my food, so I don’t have to cook.

It’s a guy. He’s tall with dishevelled golden brown hair, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans. He has biker boots on his feet and holds a helmet at his side. I look him up and down and the smile drops from my face when I notice the distinct lack of pizza boxes in his hands. Beyond him, a motorbike is parked up on the driveway, but there’s no warming box on the back for the food. My brows knit together. I look back at him and my frown intensifies as his piercing brown eyes sweep over me.

“You’re not here to deliver the pizza,” I state. There’s no point making it a question.

“No, I’m not,” he answers in a lower drawl than I was expecting. I notice tattoos creeping up from the neckline of his black t-shirt and as he reaches up to brush his caramel hair away from his eyes, I spot another tattoo on his hand.

“I think you’re in the wrong place then,” I tell him, lifting my chin and pinning him with a stare. I’m up a step, being just inside the house, and yet he’s the same height as me, our eyes level. He cocks his head to the side with a smirk on his face. He’s hot as hell, but what’s he doing at my door?

“Is Zack home?” he asks. I can’t help my skitter of surprise. I try to age him, but it’s difficult. He’s got to be in his early twenties.

“Zack?” I ask, floundering as he continues to stare at me with that pesky smirk. “What do you want with Zack?”

“He invited me. Am I at the right place?” He tilts his head to the side slightly and more tattoos become visible.

“How do you know my son?”

“I met him through work.”

Hmmm, that sounds too vague for my liking.What kind of work? Peddling drugs?

There’s a noise behind me and I jerk as a hand grabs my shoulder. I let out a small sigh of relief when I spot Zack.

“Hey, mate, you came,” my son says to the stranger before he reaches across and they bump fists.

“Mum, this is Alex. He works at the Arts Centre too. You gonna let him in?” Zack gives me a smile, but I stand for a moment longer. There’s an awkwardness, but I’m not quite willing to stand down just yet.

“You’re here to game?” I ask Alex, quirking a brow.

“Yep. And drink beer. And eat pizza. I believe that’s the plan for the evening?” He looks over at Zack with a brow raised in question.

“Sure is. Come in. The pizza is due any minute. I'll introduce you to the other guys.” I finally take a step to the side as Alex comes closer to follow Zack’s lead to the room where the guys are. I don’t move far enough back and his leather ensconced arm nudges me as he passes. He looks down at me, significantly taller now that we’re on level ground. I draw in a deep breath, trying to ignore the fluttering low in my belly at his proximity.

“Apologies, Zack’s Mum.” His voice is husky as that smirk from earlier makes a reappearance.

“Mel, my name is Mel,” I tell him. He gives me a brief nod before turning to follow my son down the hallway. My eyes track his movement. His body is lithe, and he moves with self-assurance. I close the door and then lean back against it, sucking in a breath.What the hell just happened there? Am I attracted to Zack’s friend?

Ten minutes later the pizza has arrived and I have a horde of ravenous young men standing around the kitchen island helping themselves to slices from the many boxes.

“I got you a bougie one, Mum. I know you like them best,” Zack tells me as he points towards an unopened box. I crack the lid and my mouth salivates as the smell of warm pizza infiltrates my nostrils.

“What’s on it?” I ask, trying to identify the toppings under the cluster of green rocket leaves perched on the top.

“Pulled pork, onions and mozzarella,” Zack states as he grabs a large piece of a meat-covered pizza and devours it. I jolt as someone nudges me from the side. I look over and Alex is there, staring down at the pizza slice I’ve just lifted from the box.

“Looks tasty. Are you willing to share, Zack’s mum? Sorry, I mean Mel.” I meet his eyes and his smile is more genuine than his previous smirks.

“Sure,” I tell him, waving my hand over the box to show he should grab some. His arm brushes mine again as he reaches for a slice. My skin tingles at his nearness as I breathe in the earthy scent of him.

We all stand around the island, eating. It’s fairly quiet as the guys tuck in, and I can’t decide if it’s because they’re all ravenous or because I’m here, getting in their way. I grab a plate from one of the cupboards and place two of the smaller slices of my pizza on it. Next, I refill my wineglass from the bottle in the fridge. I lift both up and smile round at everyone.

“I’ll get out your hair. I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”

“You don’t need to hide away, Mum. It’s your house,” Zack tells me, putting an arm around my shoulders and pulling me in for a half hug. He’s a decent kid and I’m grateful that he doesn’t seem phased by showing me affection in front of his mates.

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