It's Complicated: A Reservations Story

He had gotten used to the snug fit but tried to see the room from Beckett’s point of view. There might be a foot of space between his sofa, coffee table, and side chair. His large television and stand took up the entire area of where a kitchenette might fit. His two barstools occupied the remaining space, pushed snuggly against the kitchen island separating the two rooms.

“How big is that TV?”

“Stop making fun of my shit,” Julian said, tossing his keys on the center island.

“I’m serious. It’s gotta be the movie-screen size. Does it hurt your eyes being so close?”

Julian didn’t look back at the comedian as he started for his bedroom.

“I call the look bougie garage sale. I’m going to change clothes, but we can call the training off too.”

“No,” Beckett said with that instructor voice he used. “Repetition is critical. We can move the coffee table like this…”

Julian was certain anyone else would have taken the out he had just offered. Of course, not Beckett. He left Beckett to do his thing and shut his bedroom door behind him.

Beckett surveyed the cozy living room, witnessing much of the struggle of Julian’s life played out in the belongings piled into this condo. Even as packed as the condo was, it held all the beauty of Julian. All the furnishings looked expensive and well kept. It represented both sides of the man. The old and the new. But it also held a certain amount of conflict.

He ran his hand over the length of the expensive cloth of Julian’s sofa. This furniture didn’t come cheap and spoke of a past life Beckett had no real understanding of and didn’t fit the look of the condo.

The biggest purchase he ever made was the pickup truck he was driving. Outside of that, maybe the clothes he’d bought to woo Julian could be considered extravagant. Other than that, Beckett lived a modest, simple life.

He carefully moved the decorations before he lifted the coffee table high in the air and gave a huff at the weight. Beckett decided the sofa was the best place to move it out of the way and keep it safe. He looked around, trying to find a way to make more room. The barstools were next. He reached behind the sofa and had to exert more muscle power. They were damn heavy too. He put the barstools in the middle of the kitchen and shoved the sofa to the edge of the island.

As he pushed the side chair toward Julian’s bedroom door, it opened. Julian’s brows lifted as he blocked Julian’s entrance to his room. Woofer jumped on the chair’s cushion as if he owned the thing. “Is he allowed up there?”

“Of course not,” Julian said and lifted a leg to climb over the chair, not putting a foot on the fine fabric.

“Woofer…” Beckett started, but Julian cut him off.

“He’s fine. I let him on this chair. I have another two in storage and more of that fabric saved,” Julian said, hoisting himself over the oversized chair. “He spends lots of time in this tiny condo. If I ever get out of here, we can train him to behave properly, and by we, I mean you. He responds to you.”

Beckett lifted a hand to help Julian, surprised at how long and limber Julian actually was. No part of him touched the expensive furniture, which spoke to how much he valued Woofer if he worked so hard to care for the furniture but allowed the dog to sit on it.

Julian’s long fingers clasped his hand, sending tingles instantly shooting up his arm and over his skin. Beckett felt reasonably sure he’d managed to keep things casual between the two of them since the moment he rolled down his truck window. Holy hell, his insides were in straight-up freak-out mode.

“You make me laugh. Your neck gets flushed. It’s the only way I can tell what’s going on with you,” Julian teased, letting go of his hand and walking into the open space of the living room.

“What’s going on with me?” Beckett asked, then instantly wished he could take those words back.

Julian stretched his body with bends and lunges but stopped to give him a look over his shoulder that he interpreted to mean he’d made the joke too easy for Julian. Whatever. Beckett knew exactly how Julian had responded to him last night. Julian also had to know that wasn’t going to be their last kiss, but he wisely kept all that to himself.

“What’s that grin mean?” Julian asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Nothing,” he replied, grinning broadly at Julian as he moved closer. “Do you remember the break and escape?” Beckett didn’t give Julian a second to consider his answer because Julian’s would-be attacker wouldn’t give him a second’s notice before an attack. Reaching out with his left hand, Beckett grabbed Julian’s T-shirt in the middle of his chest. His grip was tight, and Julian did as he’d been taught, immediately implementing his counterattack. The seconds required to think through each move would have cost him if this had happened out on the street. But today, the student became the aggressor.