16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

LEWIS

There's a gnawing pit in my stomach as I pull into Arrow's driveway and see all the motorcycles. Of course his friends are all here. The garage door is open and the light is illuminating the night, giving me a clear view of Arrow sitting with his back to the driveway. The guys who have been giving me a hard time all month are seated around him, casually lounging and sipping beer.

Maybe this was a mistake. Fuck, maybe they're in there laughing and patting Arrow on the back for tricking me so well. I swallow around the lump in my throat and try to hang on to everything Rowan said to me this afternoon, slowly feeding me the confidence to come over here and get closure, if nothing else.

I can see Arrow craning his neck, trying to see through the dark to figure out who's in his driveway. My heart thunders and I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. I want more than closure. I don't want to admit it even to myself, but I want him to find the right words to make me believe that what we have is real. I want Arrow… Jason . I take a steadying breath and turn off my car.

The chatter from the garage comes to an abrupt stop, which only feeds my paranoia. Were they actually talking about me?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Okay, I can do this.

I step out of the shadows into the circle of light cast by the garage. Arrow's chair scrapes on the concrete and then clatters to the ground as he jumps up. An array of emotions flicker across his face rapidly, his expression twitching between a smile and a frown so quickly it almost makes me laugh. He reaches out towards me and then stuffs his hands into his pockets. My heart stutters and it takes everything in me not to just throw myself into his arms and kiss him until I forget any of this happened at all.

I bite my bottom lip and look past Arrow at all of his friends again. None of them have moved, but they're all watching me with looks ranging from curious to guarded. There's no open hostility or mocking, so that's something, I suppose.

I drag my gaze back to Arrow.

"Do you think we could talk?"

He nods, then clears his throat and looks over his shoulder at his friends.

"Get the hell out," he says gruffly.

There are a few snickers and smiles, but they stand up one by one. He's talked about each of them before, and as they file past, patting him on the shoulder, I try to guess who's who. Tex is easy, assuming he's the one wearing the cowboy hat, and from everything Arrow said about Jag, I have no doubt he's Neon Terrorist Barbie. Piston and Hero are harder to guess. Of the two, the man with the buzzed haircut and tattoos all the way up his neck and down both hands stops in front of me. There's a steady calmness in his turquoise eyes that puts me at ease immediately, in spite of everything.

Piston. It has to be.

"He didn't know. And Jag didn't have a clue that you were the guy Arrow was falling for. If he had, he would've knocked it off with the prank bullshit."

It's hard to trust what he's saying. He's Arrow's best friend, so of course he's going to say whatever he needs to. I want to believe him though, especially the part about Arrow falling for me. I don't have a clue what to say to him, but luckily, he doesn't force me to come up with anything. He pats me on the shoulder the same way he did with Arrow, then climbs onto his bike just like the others do. Piston whistles and all their engines roar deafeningly before they ride out of the driveway and disappear down the street.

The silence the leave in their wake rings in my ears.

"You want a beer?" Arrow asks, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. When he lets it drop, I can see his knuckles are bright red and swollen again.

"Sure." I follow him into the garage.

Gregory barks excitedly, circling my feet and wagging his tail. I reach down to pet him and then take the beer Arrow holds out towards me. He rights his toppled chair and looks around helplessly like he's not sure if he should sit down or invite me inside. I tilt my head towards the door.

"Maybe we could go in and sit down?"

He nods again quickly. "Yeah, sorry, I feel like I'm on eggshells right now. If I only have one shot to not fuck this up, I'm probably not doing a great job so far." He chuckles.

I step closer and take his injured hand gingerly. I don't want to promise him anything. I can't promise him anything right now, but the fact that he cares this much about fucking it up chips away at my fears just a little more. The gesture seems to calm him, even though I don't say anything. He drags in a breath and then lets it out slowly.

"Let's go inside and I'll order something to eat," he says decisively. "Do you like Chinese?"

I let go of his hand and grin. "Only if we order from Sunny Wok."

"Obviously. It's the only edible Chinese food in town."

A warm feeling pulses through me and I laugh. We head inside with Gregory on our heels and Arrow places an order while I get comfortable on his couch. I put my feet up on his coffee table and bounce my knee while I sip my beer.

I should have asked Rowan to give me some notes about how a conversation like this is even supposed to go. I've never had a relationship worth talking through the fucked-up shit.

Relationship .

Is that what this is?

We've fucked a handful of times and been on one date. On paper it doesn't sound all that serious, but there's something about Arrow that feels different. I watch him quietly as he taps away at his phone, finalizing our order, and I try to imagine him making fun of me to his friends behind my back. I can't make the picture fit with the version of him I've gotten to know. He's a man who stops in the rain to help someone stranded on the side of the road. He rides his motorcycle with his fluffy little dog strapped to his chest, and the second he saw me getting jealous about Bas last night, he made it abundantly clear we were together, even though I had insisted it wasn't a date.

He finishes with the order, sets his phone down on the coffee table, and then joins me on the couch.

"I didn't know you owned the flower shop."

My desire to believe him wars with the part of myself that wants to retreat from all the possible heartache that lies ahead.

"I just don't understand how."

He frowns. "What do you mean? You didn't know I owned Ink Slingers either." I open and close my mouth. Okay he has a point there. "And if I was trying to hide it from you, why would I have given you my business card when we met?"

A laugh bubbles up in my throat. "If I had called you or even looked at that card, we could have avoided all of this." I laugh again, the absurdity of the whole thing washing over me.

"Does that mean you believe me?" he asks, his uninjured hand creeping across the cushion between us, like he's reaching for me without even meaning to.

"I…" I bite down on my lip, rolling it between my teeth while I think for a second. "I want to. I just can't shake this thought that you were sitting around with your friends telling them how I begged you to make me feel special and they've been laughing about it ever since."

A growl rumbles through Arrow's throat, and he reaches for me. If his swollen hand is bothering him, he doesn't show it, grabbing me and hauling me onto his lap without wincing. I brace my hands on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, goose bumps of fear and desire spreading over my skin like wildfire. Not fear that he's going to do anything to hurt me physically, but fear that it's already too late to keep myself safe from getting hurt in all the other ways that matter.

"Every word, every moan, every breathless fucking gasp you gave me are mine . I told you I don't like to share, and I'm not just talking about your body. I don't want to share any-fucking-thing you've given me." He drags his nose along the edge of my jaw and tightens both of his hands into fists, grasping the back of my shirt.

My cock swells at the possessive rumble in his voice, but more than that, the knots in my stomach loosen. I believe him. Fuck, I believe him. I tremble and let out a shaky breath.

"How is this supposed to work?" I whisper, like if I say it too loudly it might snuff out the flickering flame of hope in my chest. "Your friends are the most important people in your life, and they hate me. Plus, our shops are right next door to each other, so if we break up, it'll be this awkward situation where we still have to see each other."

"We've gone almost two months without running into each other. Are you really going to let the slim chance of things getting awkward keep us from seeing what this could be?" He brings his hand to my face, cupping my jaw and dragging his rough thumb softly over my cheek. "And my friends don't hate you. Jag was just doing what Jag does, creating chaos. It was never personal."

"Okay, but I'm annoying in relationships. I've been holding back because we said this is casual, but when I actually let myself start falling for someone, I'm desperate for their attention all the time. I text too much, I move too fast, I fill their house with plants and start dreaming about a wedding before the third date. I would have made a great lesbian."

Arrow barks out a laugh, sliding his hand around to the back of my neck and pulling me closer so our foreheads rest against each other and his warm breath fans over my face.

"My place could use some plants," he says, as if that was the most important point in all my rambling.

"You really want to do this? You want to take me on dates and listen to me go on and on about flowers and—"

He cuts me off with his lips on mine, dragging me into a syrupy slow kiss that melts me from the inside out. I sag into him, feeling the thunder of his heart under my palms and the warmth of his body wrapping around me like a blanket.

"Yes," he murmurs against my mouth. Then he breaks the kiss and searches my eyes. "As long as you're up for dealing with my constant need to touch you and claim you, to put my jacket on you so everyone knows you're mine and glare at anyone else who even tries to look at you."

I laugh and nod. "I think I can live with that."

"And you're not the only one who moves too fast. The only thing keeping me from asking you to move in right now is that I still don't want to scare you off."

I slide my fingers through his beard and kiss him again.

"Okay, let's be too much together then," I say.

"Sounds good to me, Tater Tot."