Page 29 of King of Pain

Chance

Ant’s arms are wrapped hesitantly around my body. I’ve given a lot of people rides over the years, and it can be awkward for a novice motorcycle passenger to place their arms around someone, especially if they don’t know you well. But there’s something different about this—about him. His grip has now strengthened, firm but careful, like he’s trying to hold on for more than just safety, but not trying to hold on too tightly at the same time.

As we’re cruising through traffic, it dawns on me that I hadn’t quite thought this offer of a ride all the way through. When we pull up to a red light, I lift the shield on my helmet and motion for him to do the same.

After he lifts his shield, I clear my throat and ask, “Hey, you mind if we stop by my place first? There’s something important I forgot. I promise I won’t make a skin lamp out of you or anything.”

He leans in slightly, his voice just audible over the engine. “Uh, sure. I guess that’s fine.”

I nod and when we get the green light, I take the next turn, steering away from the dorms and toward my apartment. It’s not a lie—there is something I need to take care of at home. But the truth is, I could have easily dropped him off first. What I need to doisurgent, but ten minutes wouldn’t have hurt anything.

The real reason? I’m not quite ready to drop him off yet. I don’t know many people here, and the company is nice. Anthony Pacini intrigues me. He was just starting to loosen up with me at work tonight, and I’d like to draw him out a little more. It’sthat undeniable pull I’ve felt since laying eyes on him and I can’t quite put it into words.

Okay, fine, the fact that he’s hot as fuck is a factor.

We pull into the small parking lot outside my building, and I kill the engine. “Come on in. It’ll just take a minute,” I say, tossing him a casual smile as I lead him to my little sector of the complex and up to my door. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Ant cocks his head to the side, narrows his eyes at me, and says, “Okayyy.” I laugh at his hesitance—because that’s fair, but I don’t think he’ll mind when he meets them.

I unlock my door and usher him in. I drop my helmet on the counter, head over to the blanket-covered rectangular object in the corner of my dining area, and lift the blanket.

Ant’s eyes grow huge as he sees the crate, and he immediately crouches down with his hands on his knees. His usually deep voice shoots up about four octaves as he squeaks, “It’s a puppy! Look at you! Who’s a good puppers?” I start laughing as my recently new “roommate” and my coworker both wag their tails as they meet. And damn, what a tail it is. Honestly, I don’t know how I get through shifts.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asks, still bent over, palms on knees, giving me a show. Fuck, maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Shaking my head out of an ass-induced trance, I respond, “Uh, sorry, yeah, um… boy, he’s a boy. He’s a chocolate lab, only six months old.”

Ant nods and says, “What’s your name, good boy?” as I let his new best friend out of his crate.

“Ant, meet Guinness. Guinness, meet Ant, your new co-dog walker because we really need to get him outside, which is why we had to stop here first.”

Ant’s eyes laser in on me, full of judgment, as we step outside with a securely leashed Guinness. “Has he been in there the whole time we were at work?”

I mock gasp and give him a teasing shove on his right arm as we walk, sending him stumbling sideways with laughter. And damn, what an arm.

Focus, Sullivan!

“No, he hasn’t been in his crate this whole time. My neighbor Lexi, she offered to let Little G out while I’m at work. She went with me to pick him up this past Sunday.”

Ant gives me a look I can’t quite decode when I mention Lexi, but I continue.

“Anyway, Lexi works a night shift and stopped by on her way to where she bartends, so he’s gone out while we were at work. But it’s been a few hours. I’m new at this. I’ve never had a dog before, so I’m not yet conditioned to rush home after work.”

His expression shifts to one of shock. “Wait, you’ve never had a dog? Oh God, are you a cat person?” I laugh at that, then smile, liking how the stoic guy I first met a few days ago has been warming up to me slowly.

“Actually, I’ve never had a pet in my life, period,” I tell him.

Ant’s eyes get even bigger as he responds, “Never? No pets? Not even a goldfish?”

“Not even a goldfish,” I confirm, a small frown starting to form on my lips at the reminder of the hell my childhood was.

“Do you mind if I ask why?” he asks, then quickly adds, “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“No, it’s okay,” I tell him. “My dad wouldn’t allow any pets or many of the normal rites of passage a kid experiences growing up. But hey, I’m not a kid anymore. Hence, Mr. Guinness over here.”

Ant stops mid-step while we’re walking, puts a hand on my shoulder, and says, “I’m sorry, Chance. I’m sorry that was your experience growing up, and I’m sorry I pried.”

I think that’s the most unguarded I’ve seen him so far. It’s dark out, but I can still see those beautiful hazel eyes, and we lock on each other a moment too long, causing Ant to pull his hand from my shoulder like it’s on fire.