Page 14 of Filthy and the Beast

He takes a big bite of the eggplant and swallows. Adam’s apple bobbing, an appreciative smile inches up the corner of his mouth. “This is fucking good, by the way. Thanks for the food.”

“Same,” I say with a wide smile. “Just don’t get too used to it. Remember, I’ll be gone on my date tomorrow night.”

Enzo snorts air out his nose.

“What? Do you need me now? Don’t tell me you’re planning to test your roller skates out Friday night.”

Not that I’m going to reschedule my date last minute. I take my word seriously, and I told Caeleb I would be there. If I am going to look for a relationship, I’m going to do it right.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” He keeps eating. With our appetites, this much food might actually be necessary. “Have fun,” he barks abruptly.

“That doesn’t exactly sound convincing.” I lick sauce off my lip.

I see Enzo watching the movement of my tongue. My heart kicks.

He obviously knows I’m gay. I don’t hide it. But until I catch him looking at me like that, this fire in his eyes, I don't consider he could be gay, too.

Maybe? I mull it over, then change my mind.

99.9 percent chance of heterosexuality.

He chews, frustrated, although I’m not sure why. Back straight, Enzo stands there, shoveling food up to his mouth, working his jaw, until he finally speaks again.

“Just don’t date any trash.”

I laugh. “What does that mean?”

“If he doesn’t treat you right, kick him to the curb. Don’t take any shit.” He considers me. “Everyone should know how to defend themselves,” he adds, repeating his favorite advice.

I shake my head. “Excuse me, what?”

“What you said earlier.” He eats. “Not making a career.” He swallows. “Boxing gym. But you should know how to defend yourself.”

Oh shit. Is that what’s happening right now? Enzo is grinding his molars and thinking about me going out on dates, and he’s concerned? He’s worried about my safety?

My face feels warm.

I swallow. “I know how to take care of myself, thank you. And I won’t date anyone who doesn’t treat me right. I promise. But sure, I’d be happy to let you teach me how to fight.”

Enzo blinks. “Excuse me?”

I shrug, teasing him but quite liking the idea. “We can wait until your back is a little better. But I won’t be your roommate forever, so the clock is ticking.” I nod toward his forbidden room. “Unless you’re occupied? The miniature unicorn painting must be time-consuming.”

He sighs, heavy with exasperation. After a flustered moment, he wipes his plate with the last of the pita and shoves it in his mouth. “Thanks for the meal,” he grunts again, like that’s the end of the subject.

I laugh, entertained. “You already said thanks. Is that a yes, self-defense lessons begin next Monday?”

Enzo makes a noise, not an answer. “Should get to bed,” he grumbles. He silently takes his plate to the dishwasher, depositing it without rinsing, then brushes past me and away from the kitchen, lugging each stiff step. “Come,” he says brusquely, and the dogs follow at his feet.

I roll my eyes. Apparently, fighting lessons are verboten. “Have a good night.” I lift my voice. “And thanks for the conversation! It’s traditional to end with some niceties, but I’m still glad for the company.”

Grunting, Enzo waves a hand in the air before he disappears behind the heavy door to his quarters. A moment later, his muffled voice drifts down the hallway.

“Goodnight.”

I rub the back of my head, feeling tingly.

I like him, I decide. And I’m pretty sure he likes me, too.

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