He rubs a palm down his thigh and shifts in his seat. “Umm … well—” He clears his throat.
God, I’m an ass. “I’m making you uncomfortable. Sorry. Forget I said anything. I want to be friends with you and hook up with your brother.”
“Greedy much?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m here for your brother or—”
“Reed, it’s okay.” His eyes pierce mine, and his mouth drops open to say something, but it dies along with his eye contact. He stares out the windshield as he asks, “We going to dinner or what?”
Even though Law says it’s okay, he barely talks throughout our meal at the pub.
“I promise from now on I won’t talk about your brother,” I say after paying for the food.
“It’s not that. I promise.”
“Then what’s up?”
He smirks. “What’s up? Now who’s been hanging out with teenagers too much?”
Classic avoidance tactic. I may not understand them, but there’s no doubt I’m taken with both the Steele brothers. One on a professional and friendship level, and the other in a more biblical sense. I want Anders in my bed again, but with the way Law is reluctant and clamps up every time I mention his brother, I think it’s best if I try to keep each of them separate for the time being. He’s fine mentioning Anders on his own, but whenever I do it, he gets this weird look in his eye.
Keeping Anders under wraps won’t be hard. I don’t even know if he’s going to come back for more.
8
Lawson
As soon as I get home, I add Reed on Facebook. Leaving the pub, he told me to add my phone number into his phone, but if I did that, he’d know I’m pretending to be Anders and he already has my number. So I gave him Anders’ number and changed the last digit. I have no idea who Reed will reach if he ever calls or messages, but this way, he won’t have to. He can private message me on Facebook instead.
The lengths I’m going to so he doesn’t find out is getting out of hand. And I’m the one on Anders’ case to get counselling. Ironic, really.
My phone dings with a notification.
Reed: Whoa, Facebook official? We really are friends now. I’m assuming this is Law, considering the impressive profile picture of your beard and the name “I Fought The Law.” Tell me, did the law win?
THE shouldn’t be capitalised by the way.
I grin.
I Fought The Law: Sorry, teach. Told you I suck at English.
PS The law kicked my ass.
Reed: No wonder I couldn’t find either of you on Facebook. Is Anders’ profile as cryptic as yours?
I Fought The Law: Stalking is illegal and creepy, you know.
Reed: You’re illegal and creepy.
I Fought The Law: Careful, you sound like Davis.
Also, Anders doesn’t have social media. He lives in the stone ages.
Reed: So the nineties?
I Fought The Law: Close enough.
Reed: Have you spoken to him about Davis yet?
I Fought The Law: He’s out, but I will when he gets home.
If he gets home.
Can’t really say that to Reed; though maybe I should. It might mean the definite end between the two of them, and I won’t be tempted to do what I really want to do which is go over there and beg him to fuck me.
Ever since I met him, that’s all I’ve thought about. Actually, that’s not entirely true. After our first hook-up, I was willing to keep the memory and move on. It wasn’t until he turned up at my dojo and I saw how he is with the kids and how much we have in common that I thought of wanting more. But I want more as me, not as my brother.
The fact we’ve had sex and he doesn’t even know it kills me. I sat across from him and ate dinner, all the while knowing what he looks like naked, what sounds he makes when he comes, and how hot he is when he’s trying to keep control but loses all restraint.
I want to tell him the truth, but I’ll lose the chance to be with him and his friendship. Plus, we have to work together. There’s no way of getting out of this without hurting him. The first time might’ve been forgivable had I come clean immediately. It was just a hook-up. But this last time was based on lies upon lies, and I’m not that guy. I’m not the asshole lying to get people into his bed. Usually.
The front door creaks open, and an exhausted Anders ambles through it with a scowl on his face.
“Bad night?” I ask.
“Was going all right until Kale turned up and threw a tantrum.”
“The guy I broke up with for you a few weeks ago?” I jump up from my spot on the couch and follow him into our small kitchen. “You okay?”