Page 68 of I Blame the Club

He shrugs, “Eleanor needed help with her groceries so she signed me in.”

I shake my head, “She loves the young ones.”

“You’re telling me. I’m pretty sure the old bitty coped a feel after we passed the second floor.”

A laugh escapes me and Nico’s face lights up. The uncomfortable feeling returns, building in my chest until I have to clear my throat and look away.

He shuffles nervously, “Anyways, I better get going. Just wanted to get it off my conscience.”

“Right.” Nico turns to leave but before he can take another step, I find myself speaking.

“I was just about to make lunch. If you wanted to stay.”

He whips back around, that smug smile back on that ridiculous face, “What are you making?”

“Grilled chicken and kale caesar salad.”

He pulls a face, following me through the doorway and into the kitchen, “That sounds disgusting.”

I roll my eyes, “It’s healthy.”

“Still disgusting.” Hopping up on my granite countertop, Nico takes a glance around my state-of-the-art-kitchen, “New plan: I make lunch and you can pick the music.”

“Now we’re playing music?”

He grins, “Babe, everything is better with music. Your disgusting lunch menu included.”

I stop in my tracks when Nico hops off the counter and starts peeking in all my cupboards. He buzzes around my kitchen, the bright collared shirt hanging loosely over beige joggers. His hips sway to the music not yet playing and for a moment, it’s like I’m back at my family home, watching my mother dance around the kitchen.

“Do you like spicy food?” Nico peeks over his shoulder and gives me a cheeky grin, “What am I saying? Of course you do.”

Shaking my head, a smile hits my lips as I reach for my phone.

Nico

“Worst sex story. Go.”

Maurice glances at me in amusement, “All my sex stories are good ones.”

He takes a bite of the delicious curry I managed to whip up with his ultra-healthy food supply and smirks, “Obviously that’s not the case for you.”

I pout, “Don’t be a party-pooper, Maurice. Everyone has a bad sex story.”

“I don’t.”

“You do you just don’t want to tell me.” I gasp, using my hand to cover my mouth, “Was your first time traumatic?”

He chuckles, “It was fine. By the second round we had figured things out.”

I take a scoop of the curry and chew it thoughtfully, “By we, do you mean a girl?”

He nods, “I was fourteen, she was sixteen.”

“Scandalous.” Taking a sip of my water, I notice Maurice looking at me curiously. I swallow slowly and mentally rejoice when his eyes drop to track the movement.

“When did you know you were gay?”

Pale blue eyes peer into mine and it’s all I can do not to grab the nearest napkin and fan myself. Sitting this close to Maurice is doing something to me and I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

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