“That was nice of you.”
Spencer shrugged off the praise as he flipped open the lid of the box. “Since you burned your dominant hand, I figured pizza would be the easiest thing for you to eat.”
Zayn shook his head. He didn’t understand why Spencer didn’t realize how amazing he was. People didn’t visit his house and worry about his staff. Hell, they didn’t even worry about him. Zayn puzzled over it while they ate. He didn’t solve anything. In fact, between the food and the meds, he caught himself dozing. He closed his eyes for half a second. When they opened again, their mess had been cleared away, and Spencer was helping him to his feet.
“Come on, sleepy head. You obviously have a low tolerance for pain medicine.”
Zayn let Spencer lead him to the bedroom. “I rarely take any type of medication. I come from an Asian family. My mom thinks capsaicin fixes everything.”
A sexy chuckle rumbled from Spencer as he helped Zayn strip down to his underwear. “I get the feeling you have a great family.”
Zayn dutifully climbed into bed when Spencer pulled the covers back. “They’re good people. My mom doesn’t love that I’m gay, but she doesn’t bother lecturing me. I think more than anything she’s worried about me getting mistreated.”
“You’re her baby.” Spencer sat on the edge of the bed at Zayn’s hip. “Good parents don’t want their kids getting bullied. I imagine it has to be somewhat terrifying to send your kids into the world under the best of circumstances. Being gay definitely doesn’t make anything easier.”
“Are you not staying?” He didn’t look like he intended to crawl beneath the covers with Zayn.
For a moment, Spencer eyed him in silence. “Do you want me to?”
He didn’t need to think about it. “Yes.”
Spencer stood and stripped. Zayn enjoyed the show. He knew in his heart they wouldn’t make love tonight. Spencer struck Zayn as the type of person who never took advantage of anyone. The way he talked about taking care of others and the way he had thought about Zayn’s staff tonight, that was a man with a moral code. He fascinated the fuck out of Zayn.
Spencer stacked pillows under Zayn’s arm again and then circled the bed. He crawled beneath the covers and moved as close as possible without hurting Zayn. “I can’t promise I’ll sleep.”
Zayn hadn’t thought about the time. He realized too late it was probably still pretty early in the evening. “I’m sorry. The meds are making me tired, but you don’t have to stay. I don’t even know what time it is.”
“It’s about eight thirty.” Spencer brushed his fingers through Zayn’s hair. “That’s not what I meant, though. I always have a hard time sleeping. Between working mostly at night and the way my mind races, I have a weird sleep schedule. I usually just go until I crash.”
“Sounds like ADHD.”
Spencer blinked, as if Zayn spoke a different language. “Not that I know of.”
Zayn closed his eyes and savored the way Spencer played with his hair. “My best friend growing up, Lonnie, had ADHD. He couldn’t tolerate the meds, so he had to just deal with it. Lonnie would just go and go, playing video games, talking, playing different instruments, and basically anything else you can think of to pass the time. It felt like he was always moving or talking until boom. He would be asleep. Then he would stay asleep for hours on end. He was very creative.”
“Where is Lonnie these days?” Spencer spoke softly—like he tried to lull Zayn to sleep.
Zayn fought a wave of pain. Some things never got easier to carry. “He killed himself our senior year of high school.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Zayn fought the urge to say it was okay. It had been over twenty years. He didn’t think about it that much anymore. Those were all the usual sayings for whenever anyone asked about Lonnie. This one time, he stayed silent and accepted Spencer’s comfort. The pain meds were making him emotional. He was glad Spencer was here. Even if Spencer didn’t end up staying the night, Zayn had Spencer for now. He was grateful.
Six
Spencer: How is that hand today?
Zayn: It’s good. How are you?
Spencer: I’m good. I’m just missing you.
Zayn: I’ll be there in a few.
Spencer: Don’t forget we have that second pottery class tonight.
Zayn: I’ll be there.
Up beats, downbeats, and echoes swirled through Spencer’s mind. He moved to his DJ controller and opened his laptop. He pushed buttons and twisted knobs, lining up different sounds. Spencer moved to the sound, getting into the music and imagining people rocking out to his latest tracks. One new song led to two. He found a fresh memory stick and started a new set. There were three shows coming up that would be perfect for testing out his latest creation. A chime pulled him from his thoughts. Spencer’s gaze shot to the security camera. Zayn’s car pulled into his usual spot. Spencer’s gaze slowly moved to the clock. His eyes fell closed. Pottery class had ended nearly an hour ago.
He bent at the waist and softly beat his head on his standing desk before rushing to the door. Spencer yanked the door open, profusely apologizing before Zayn could blast him. “I’m so sorry. Fuck. I’m such an idiot. One second, I had plenty of—”
Zayn overcame him. His mouth covered Spencer’s, cutting off his apology. Spencer tore at the button on Zayn’s jeans as he walked him toward the bed. At the edge of the mattress, Spencer pushed, shoving Zayn down. Desire burned in Zayn’s eyes. Spencer forgot about his new set list and everything else in his life, except Zayn. When they were together, everything always fell away, turning Spencer into pure need. He straddled Zayn’s body and dragged Zayn’s white t-shirt up his torso. At Zayn’s wrists, he twisted, turning the shirt into a restraint. He used the
