Page 56 of Not Catching Love

Turning my professionalism on and ignoring how I feel would be next to impossible now.

Besides, I just really don’t want to.

He’s waiting out in front of his place when I pull up to collect him. He invited me to something called Monopoly Monday last night, and even though I’d wanted to go, I’m chickenshit. I have no idea what the others think. There are blurred ethical lines between me and Xander, but having someone else point them out will cheapen this friendship we’re building.

His hair is freshly dyed, and he’s wearing large, gold-framed sunglasses.

“Where to?”

“The park.”

“The … park?”

“Yup. I figure that I missed out on a childhood, and you want to relive yours, so let’s begin there.”

I choke on my inhale. “Who says I want to relive mine?”

He wriggles his fingers in the grays by my temples. “No clue where I got that idea.”

“Okay, okay.” I bat his hand away. “We both know that was an excuse to touch me.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“When you want to be.”

I can feel his satisfied smile from here. “I only had one blood clot this week,” he comments, like he’s telling me about what he had for lunch.

“Correction: you had zero blood clots.”

“One. In my brain. I couldn’t see or anything. It was touch and go for a while there.”

A flash of Xander, mid-panic attack, threatens to overwhelm me. “Sorry I couldn’t help.”

“It’s fine. I get it.”

“There are a lot of things I want to be for you, but I can’t be that as well.”

“Iknow.” He sets his hand on my thigh, higher than he needs to. “Stop stressing.”

I send a smirk his way. “Hand, Xander.”

“Ooops. When did that get there?”

“Total accident, I bet.”

He squeezes my leg before releasing it, and the feeling goes straight to my cock. I ignore it. I have to ignore it.

“Turn right here,” he says, and I do.

“What did you do today?”

“Smashed some clay.”

“Uh-huh …”

He shrugs. “I should have been working on a painting since I have about ten thousand people waiting to buy one off me, but …”

I almost drive us off the fucking road. “Excuse me, how many?”

---