Page 36 of Unloved

Conversations are real.

I don’t try to be anything but the guy I am in front of them.

I don’t hide.

I don’t lie.

I don’t cower.

Rubbing my clammy hands down the sides of my shorts, I open the door and see them both standing there in front of me. I’d forgotten how tall and solid they both are, the way they fill my doorway, their presence alone sending a complicated shiver down my spine.

In the past, I had never had a “type.” It was more about the rush and need of something to fill that void in between hits.

But these two do something to me.

It’s an unfamiliar feeling, and it bubbles beneath the surface of my skin more often than not.

I’ve been trying to ignore it.

They’re in love with each other, and I have no business feeling anything for one man, let alone two. The whole thing has disaster written all over it.

Samuel leans against the doorjamb, wearing his UCLA hoodie and gray sweatpants, looking as content as ever with his arms across his chest, a complete contrast to the anxious man I met that night in the hospital.

Lennox’s shoulders are a little slumped, the tiredness surrounding him unmissable, which makes the smile he aims my way mean even more. The fact that I know he’s had a rough day and still showed up when I asked, fills me with an immense amount of gratitude.

For the both of them, for being here, in my space, and accepting me into their fold, no questions asked.

“Hey,” I say with a wave.

Samuel and Lennox both tip their chins up at me, and a small chuckle leaves my mouth. Opening the front door wider, I move to the side and gesture for them to come inside. My apartment isn’t exactly overflowing with space, and as both of them walk in, the place looks even smaller. The front door opens up to both my kitchen and living room area all at once, making it easy enough to navigate.

Samuel and Lennox walk toward the kitchen, each holding a plastic bag that they place on the counter. Knowing to keep my phone close to me at all times, I drag it out of my pocket and send a quick text to the group.

Me: What’s in the bags?

It takes less than five seconds for both of them to look from their screens to me.

“We couldn’t come to your place empty-handed,” Lennox says. “It’s basic manners. Especially after you said you were making dinner.”

My fingers quickly fly across my screen.

Me: Buying dinner. I said I was buying dinner. If you want me to cook, you’re going to have to stick around long enough to watch me learn.

“We can do that,” Lennox says casually, having absolutely no idea how much the idea of them sticking around really appeals to me.

His gaze darts around my apartment while Samuel takes three pints of Ben & Jerry’s out of the grocery bags and, as if he’s done it a million times before, places them in my freezer.

“Thanks for asking us over, by the way.” Lennox takes the few steps to my couch and drops his body onto it in one big heap. He is as comfortable as I want him to be. “I know everyone has good intentions, but I donotwant to sit around talking about my audiologist appointment all night.”

I glance over at Samuel, my face obviously not hiding my worry, and the way he shrugs and shakes his head at me doesn’t make me feel any better.

Heading to my kitchen, I open my junk drawer and pull out numerous takeout menus and head back to Lennox, with Samuel walking behind me. Despite ordering online nowadays, I absolutely despised reading a menu on my phone screen.

I drop them onto Lennox’s supine form, and he picks them up and immediately starts going through them.

Enjoying the way Lennox feels comfortable enough to take up my whole couch, I anticipate that he’ll move for Samuel and find myself sitting down on the floor.

When Samuel joins me, I point between him and Lennox expectantly.

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