Just a Bit Wicked (Straight Guys 7)

But Sebastian wouldn’t even look at him, and boy, did it piss him off. He wanted to stand up, walk over to Sebastian and shake him, push him around, pin him to the couch under him and—

Vlad stood up and left the living room quickly. He rapped his knuckles against the study’s door and pushed it open. “Are you going out today?” he said.

Luke lifted his eyes from his laptop, a phone pressed to his ear. “One moment, Andrew,” he said, setting the phone down. “I’m working from home today,” he told Vlad, frowning. “Roman asked me to. Why? Is there a problem?”

Vlad wished he could say yes. He wished he could tell Luke he needed to leave the flat immediately so Vlad could leave with him, get away from Sebastian and his skin, his mouth, and his eyes. Hell, he almost wished for Charves’s people to be spotted in the neighborhood.

“No,” Vlad said. “Just getting stir-crazy.”

He shut the door firmly and sighed.

This madness had better pass.

* * *

It didn’t pass.

By the evening, he was beyond frustrated.

He could barely taste the food as he wolfed it down, feeling distracted and annoyed. He glared at Sebastian, hating himself for his inability to ignore him. He watched Sebastian and Luke talk about their common acquaintances and tried to convince himself he was looking at them both.

He wasn’t looking at them both.

Sebastian did this slow blink, sometimes, letting his eyelashes sweep against his cheeks before looking up at whoever he was speaking to, slow, and sleepy and doe-like.

To make things worse, Vlad was pretty sure Luke had noticed his staring. He kept shooting Vlad inquisitive looks throughout the supper while Sebastian continued ignoring him. Sebastian hadn’t looked at him once all day and it was bothering Vlad more than he would have liked.

Look at me, he wanted to growl. Look at me, look at me, look at me.

He felt like a goddamn schoolboy with a crush on a pretty girl.

Except he wasn’t a schoolboy, and Sebastian wasn’t a pretty girl by any stretch of imagination. He was just pretty. So fucking pretty. And he had such a pretty smile—

Vlad nearly groaned aloud. Had he really just thought that?

“Take a picture, Vlad,” Luke said suddenly. “It’ll last longer.”

Sebastian’s smile kind of froze. He still wouldn’t look at Vlad.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Vlad said, scowling at Luke.

Luke raised his eyebrows. “You were glaring at Seb for half an hour.”

“I was just wondering what he was going to do when his pretty face stops making him easy money,” Vlad said.

Slowly, Sebastian turned his head to him, a flush appearing on his cheekbones. “Really? What a coincidence! I was just wondering what were you going to do when you can’t make easy money by standing stupidly by the wall and flexing your muscles.”

“Okay, kids,” Luke said, getting to his feet. “I have better things to do than watch you two pull each other’s pigtails.”

“We weren’t—”

“We aren’t—”

“Sure,” Luke said, sounding far too amused for Vlad’s liking as he walked out of the kitchen.

Vlad looked at Sebastian.

Tension stretched between them, almost palpable in its thickness.

Sebastian wet his lips with his tongue, sprang to his feet, and left the kitchen.

Vlad’s gaze fell to Sebastian’s cup of tea.

It was almost full.

* * *

The rest of the week passed in much the same manner: Sebastian alternated between avoiding him and ignoring him. Vlad wished he could do the same, but the less attention Sebastian gave him, the more it fucking bothered him. He barely managed to stop himself from doing something impulsive, telling himself it was for the best.

Nights were harder. During the night, there was no escaping the memories and thoughts he managed to suppress during the day. He didn’t sleep well—hadn’t slept well all week.

Vlad heaved a sigh and turned onto his back, looking at the dark sky through the window by the bed. The penthouse was eerily quiet, the other two men having gone to bed hours ago. He was the only one wide-awake, his mind too busy with thoughts he’d rather not have.

There was no denying it anymore: he wasn’t quite as straight as he’d believed all his life. But that was the extent of what he was willing to admit, even to himself. Anything beyond that was…

Vlad halted that train of thought. He’d never been good at self-reflection. In fact, he preferred not to be alone with his own thoughts. If he was, he tended to become restless and vaguely dissatisfied. When he let himself dwell on it, he’d always felt like there was something inherently wrong with his life—with him—but he could never quite put his finger on it.

This past week might have finally given him an answer, but he didn’t like the answer at all.

The sound of footsteps brought his thoughts to a screeching halt. Someone was moving in the flat.