Page 4 of Santino (The Camboy Network #4)

CHAPTER

THREE

HAYDEN

So… yeah… I kind of forgot Santino was coming today. Sebastian even texted me yesterday to remind me, but I don’t know what happened. I thought I had more time? Like an extra day or something? I didn’t realize today was the day until the intercom for my building’s front door buzzed.

I hit the button to unlock the door, then raced to put clean sheets on Rhys’s old bed. That was the fastest I’ve ever put on sheets in my entire life.

I’m not usually a forgetful person and I wasn’t lying when I said I was looking forward to living with someone again. The apartment is too big and empty just by myself. Most of the time, I end up holed up in my room so I’m not constantly reminded I’m all alone.

It’s not like I was super busy with other stuff either. I did a couple social media promo things, tried to read some of the library books I need to return soon, and lay around in bed a lot. I think I went for a run at some point. But other than that, I’ve mostly been doing nothing.

And I still forgot. Forgot to put clean sheets on the bed. Forgot to do the dishes. Forgot to take out the recycling. Forgot to shower. I don’t think there’s much food in the fridge and I almost went to answer the door wearing nothing but my boxers.

I’m such a mess. Rambling on about allergies and shampoo? Then I basically accuse Santino of being gross when he makes the comment about take-out containers and greasy pizza boxes. Way to make a guy feel welcome, dude.

“Do you want something to drink?—”

“I guess I’ll go get settled?—”

Laughing, I meet his gaze and for the first time since he walked into the apartment, I take a really good look at Santino.

He’s not as tall as me, but he’s still pretty tall with a slim build. Dark hair, dark eyes, deep olive complexion. He’s the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, but not the edgy, mysterious kind. He looks playful, mischievous, fun.

“You go first,” I say after a moment of us staring into each other’s eyes.

“I’ll take some of that water.” He gives me a lopsided smile.

“Uh… water. Yes! I also have, um…” I rush to the kitchen and pull open the fridge to see what other options I have. I usually keep it stocked with at least some LaCroix, but there’s only the half-empty Brita filter. Oops. “Sorry, I just have water.”

“Water’s great. Just something cold would be awesome. It’s a fucking sauna out there.”

I chuckle as I pour out a cool glass and hand it over.

Santino brings it to his lips and downs the whole thing in one go.

His throat works as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

I catch myself staring at him, mesmerized by the length of his neck as he tilts his head back.

I drag my gaze away. Watching him drink is weirdly intimate and I don’t want to be the creepy new roommate who doesn’t understand boundaries.

I can still see him out of the corner of my eye, though. He finishes the glass with a sigh of satisfaction and presses the back of his hand against his mouth to wipe away the few drops of water that escaped.

“Thanks.” He holds out the empty glass and our fingers brush when I take it from him. He notices, I think, since his lips quirk into that lopsided smile again, a knowing look in his eye. “I’m going to go unpack a bit.”

“Oh yeah! Sure! Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be…” I wave my hands around. “You know, here.”

His smile widens. “I know where to find you.”

I jump into the shower and change while Santino unpacks, then start tidying up the apartment. I’m drying the dishes when Santino comes back out. He picks up a book sitting on top of the pile by the couch.

“Are these all yours?” he asks, flipping through the book in his hands. “You do a lot of reading?”

“Uh… they’re not mine. I borrow them from the library.” I busy myself with putting the dishes away, trying to avoid his second question.

I used to do a lot of reading. I haven’t actually been able to finish a book in… a while.

“What’s this one about?” Santino holds up a paperback with a cube floating in midair on the cover.

I wrack my brain, trying to remember. That’s one of the books I tried to read yesterday, but I couldn’t get into it. I don’t know why. I was really excited about it when I saw it at the library. But when I cracked it open, the words lay flat and boring on the page.

That almost never happens. Not until recently, at least. I love reading.

It’s my guilty pleasure. I’ll read anything.

Non-fiction books about random topics: deep sea creatures, the Mongol Empire, how ceramics are made, the human digestive system.

Biographies, memoirs, and self-help books.

Horror, science fiction, fantasy, even romance.

There’s just something so cool about words on a page coming alive as I read them.

But I can’t for the life of me remember what this book is about. The only thing I can think of is science because that’s what the cover looks like and that’s what the author is famous for. “It’s about the history of physics, I think. I haven’t read it yet.”

Santino carries the book with him into the kitchen, reading the back. I catch a whiff of warm cinnamon when he leans on the counter beside me. “Other dimensions. Parallel universes. Shit. I don’t think I know half the words in this paragraph.”

He holds it up for me to see, but I’m not looking at the book. I’m caught by his big brown eyes ringed by thick lashes. There are tiny golden specks in his irises that make them sparkle. I wonder if anyone’s ever tried to count the specks before. I bet there are at least a couple dozen in each eye.

“Um… yeah… uh…” Suddenly, my mouth is dry.

Santino’s eyes drop to my lips when I try to wet them. His own lips part in a silent inhale. The air around us feels too warm, even though I’ve had the air conditioning running all day. We sway toward each other, almost like we’re opposite ends of two magnets being drawn toward each other.

I’m stopped by the book hitting my chest. Embarrassment rushes at me, hard and fast. What am I doing? Santino was holding up the book so I could read the back and all of a sudden, I’m trying to… what? Kiss him?

Why would he want to kiss you? He just met you. Don’t be a creep.

“Sorry,” I sputter, spinning away. I grab the last glass that needs drying and nearly drop it in my haste.

“No, I’m sorry,” Santino replies, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t be randomly touching your stuff. I’ll go put this back.” He moves stiffly, shoulders raised, like he’s nervous and uncomfortable.

“No!” It comes out a little too loud in my eagerness to put him at ease.

Santino stops in his tracks and gives me a deer-caught-in-headlights look.

“You can touch my stuff.” I hear the way that sounds a second too late. I wince and Santino’s lips twitch with a suppressed laugh. The tension between us vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

“I mean, you can read any of the books,” I clarify.

Santino shrugs, flipping the book back and forth between his hands. “I don’t really read, but…” He scans the room and the random piles of books I haven’t tidied yet. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll give it a try while I’m here.”

He smiles at me and there’s something about his expression that makes me pause.

It’s goofy and unserious. Lighthearted and carefree.

It feels so familiar and yet so far out of my reach.

Like it’s a place I used to go to all the time, but I haven’t been back in so long, I’ve forgotten what it’s like.

The moment passes as Santino returns the book to its pile. I hurriedly give the kitchen counter one last wipedown, then get ready to leave for dinner.

The restaurant Sebastian made reservations at isn’t far from The Bronzed Rail.

On our subway ride into Manhattan, I try to tell Santino about each stop and the things he can find there if he wants to explore the city.

He soaks it all up like every word out of my mouth is the most fascinating thing he’s ever heard.

I can’t tell if he’s for real or not. Noel would’ve told me to shut up already by the second stop.

Rhys would’ve patted me on the arm and subtly tried to change the subject.

Sebastian would’ve half-listened while checking his emails on his phone.

But Santino listens with his whole body. He angles himself toward me, gaze unwavering and attentive. He doesn’t just respond with the normal “I’m listening” sounds at the right times, he asks questions—lots of them.

Do I prefer walking the bridge from the Manhattan side or the Brooklyn side? Do I have a favorite restaurant for spring rolls? Do I think it’s worth going to see the Statue of Liberty? What do I think is the most underrated neighborhood in the city?

It’s a little strange, honestly. The questions don’t feel like casual small-talk type questions.

He keeps phrasing them like he wants to hear my opinions and my preferences.

Like he’s not interested in getting to know the city, but rather, he’s interested in getting to know me.

I’ve never had someone pay that kind of attention to me before.

Like they really want to know what I think. Like what I say matters to them.

It’s not just you. You’re not special. He probably does that with everyone.

At dinner, Santino sits in the middle of the long table while I grab the empty seat at the end.

Rhys tells story after story about all the funny and cringey and hilarious-after-the-fact stuff that’s happened during video shoots.

Bellamy cuts in to explain things Rhys glosses over or to correct him when he exaggerates a little too much.

Then Sebastian goes on about how we started The Camboy Network and some of our more recent projects.

No matter who’s talking, no matter what they’re talking about, Santino looks right at them as if they’re the only person in the entire room. He’s quick to laugh and generous with his smiles. He seems to find everything “hella cool.”

By the time dinner’s over, it feels like Santino’s been a part of the friend group since forever.

He’s already got some inside jokes going and whenever he says something funny, the whole table erupts in laughter.

Even Christian and Angel, the two quieter guys in the group, are chiming in on the conversation, and Noel doesn’t look as annoyed as he usually does.

I push my chair back. No one looks up when I leave the table. I’m just going to the restroom, no big deal. When I get back, everyone’s still talking and laughing and having a great time. I slip back into my seat and no one looks in my direction.

They didn’t even notice you were gone. They probably wouldn’t notice if you didn’t come back.

A pang hits me in the middle of my chest, hard like a sledgehammer. It’s sudden and out of nowhere, leaving me struggling to draw in air.

The distance between me and the rest of the table feels like it’s growing, like I’m drifting away, even though nothing’s actually moving. All my friends are over there, having so much fun. And I’m over here, all by myself.

I don’t want to be alone on this side of the divide. But I don’t know how to get back over there. I can’t close the distance.

A dark, looming feeling teases around the edges of my mind and memories start to surface. Not any specific ones. Just fuzzy impressions of times when I felt like my friends were moving in one direction and I was moving in another. They feed into the growing darkness.

I don’t know what this is or why it’s happening. But it’s getting bigger and stronger and I’m scared it’s going to eat me alive.