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Luca raised an eyebrow. “We?”
“Of course! I have to make up for the shorts theft. Come by the camp tomorrow night and I’ll show you what I can whip up with this stuff.”
Luca stared at him skeptically. Part of his hesitation was the sketchy-looking ingredients. But a bigger part was everything he’d written about earlier in the day: the temptation and the risk that he might slip up.
And besides, if he hadn’t trusted himself to stay for dinner last time, this conversation was doing nothing to change his mind. Because Artair was just too damn good at deliberately getting him hot under the collar. And even if he was mostly doing it as a joke, that didn’t change the effectiveness—exposing Luca’s unfortunate soft spot for brats.
Just as Luca was about to politely decline, the man’s expression shifted. It was small, just a tiny sliver among the unbreakable smile, but it was still there. Luca couldn’t pinpoint the expression exactly, but he knew that it wasn’t about sex.
If anything, it seemed like a pang of loneliness. A desire to just hang out with someone for a few hours?
Luca felt immediately stupid that he hadn’t thought of that sooner. Because why should an innocent invitation surprise him? Surely even wilderness hikers wanted some company now and then. To just have someone over for a conversation and a laugh and to not feel totally alone in these woods.
And would Luca say no to the invite, just because he also found the guy hot? Would he turn down the offer for dinner, just because he was worried that he couldn’t control his own sexual urges?
No, that wouldn’t just be stupid, it would be downright cruel. Luca was the only other person in the whole woods. And what kind of asshole would turn down the invitation for some company?
Besides, even if they obviously both wanted to fuck each other’s brains out, it didn’t mean they had to.
Luca’s expression softened. “Yeah, of course man. That sounds great. Do you want me to bring anything?”
“A clean shirt?”
“Ha... ha. Tell you what. I’ll put on a clean shirt if you promise not to cook anything that might kill us?”
“Oh come on! Why don’t we think of it as an adventure?”
FIVE
First Sparks
Luca stared at his reflection in the window—the closest thing he had to a mirror. The afternoons were usually too bright for that, but it had been raining on and off throughout the day. Not so heavy that Luca needed to stay in the tower, but teetering on the edge of a storm that Sandy was keeping an eye on.
“Oh, just stay already,” he muttered to himself.
After almost three weeks at the tower, his naturally thick and wavy black hair was getting longer than he liked and was refusing to cooperate with the cheap plastic comb he’d found at the back of a drawer. Brushing right made it stick up awkwardly at the back. Brushing left made him look like a well-mannered schoolboy.
After far too long glaring at himself in the glass he gave up, running rough hands through his mane and letting it fall where it liked.
After all, it wasn’t like this was a date.
And it wasn’t like he needed to impress Artair, either.
It was just dinner.
Yet, after so many weeks out of the city, the evening still felt like something he should put effort into. Like visiting a nice restaurant for a friend’s birthday.
That was why he chose his best-fitting jeans, the ones that cupped his booty just right and made his thighs look extra juicy. Why he chose the cleanest and softest of his flannel shirts, cool green and dark navy. Why he made sure to shower before he dressed and use the nicer of his two body washes—the one that smelled of clove and cinnamon.
Because tonight was a little bit of an occasion.
A fun event to dress up for.
Something nice with the only other guy out here.
That was all.
The rain passed in the late afternoon.
