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Max banged his fist on the counter before gripping his forehead. “Damn it.”
The guy looked genuinely torn up, and I felt like a bitch. Yet again, I’d opened my big mouth and said something Theo probably wanted to keep to himself, or at least from Max. “Forget I said anything,” I mumbled. “Just forget I stopped by.”
“Oh no,” Max said, locking eyes with me. “Either you’re knocking on his door or I am. And if I do, I’m giving him hell for not telling me he had another panic attack.”
“Like he’d have told you. You’re the reason he had it.”
“I know,” Max said, dropping his head.
He looked exhausted, defeated. I wondered if he’d been second guessing himself ever since he evicted Theo. I know I’d be if I were him. Let’s be honest, if I were him, I’d have let Theo stay until the walls fell down in his crappy apartment. But I knew Max only wanted the best for Theo. “Fine. I’ll knock on his door. But if he doesn’t answer, I’m out of here. Either way, you’re not mentioning the panic attack to him. Deal?”
“This way,” Max said, motioning me toward the back like I hadn’t been to Theo’s place dozens of times before.
He walked me to the door that opened to the staircase leading to Theo’s apartment but turned and went to the front roombefore I had a chance to knock. I rapped just loud enough I could look Max in the eyes and say I tried. A couple moments later, the door swung open.
My stomach bottomed out like I was downhill on the world’s tallest roller coaster.
Theo stood at the door in nothing but a pair of dark, paint-splattered jeans. Almost his entire torso was covered in colorful ink, his body a work of art, both from the tattoos he’d added and the carved muscles beneath them. My eyes traveled down his sculpted chest and abs to his bare feet. I didn’t have a foot fetish, but damn. I could stare at Theo’s all day.
He cleared his throat, and my eyes snapped up.
“Sorry.” For telling everyone you were being evicted. For showing up unannounced. For ogling your feet like a perve when you clearly don’t find me attractive.
“Um, just a sec.”
Then he shut the freaking door in my face, confirming my status as a pathetic simp. I considered leaving, but Theo quickly returned wearing a t-shirt, his feet still enticingly bare.
“I thought you were Max,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Sorry I answered the door like that.”
“You’re fine. I mean, it’s fine. You’re fine too.” I needed to leave.
“I’m using oils.”
He might as well have spoken in Greek. Was he dousing the apartment in essential oils for the new guy? Cooking breakfast? It didn’t smell like pancakes or sandal wood or however else people use oil in their homes.
“Want to see it?”
“Sure.” I had no clue what it was, but I lifted my chin high and walked past him up the stairs all the same.
Even with his bed shoved against the wall, Theo’s studio apartment was cramped. Cramped but tidy. All his books andart supplies were stacked neatly in the built-in bookcase. The old plaid couch and laminate coffee table had seen better days, but there wasn’t a speck of dust or dirty sock in sight. The two-burner stove sparkled. The chipped Formica counter was cleared of everything except a palette loaded with paint. Oil paint. Because, duh, he’s a painter, wearing paint-splattered jeans. A canvas sat on the easel in the corner, the back facing the room.
Instead of walking three steps around to see it, I froze. Theo stopped beside me and waited.
“Do you often paint without a shirt on?” Because that was the most awkward question I could possibly ask.
He shrugged. “Sometimes. I was working out before, so I just changed from my shorts.”
And now I was imagining him naked and sweaty. “I’m not sure I could sculpt topless, even if the shed didn’t have windows.” Because if I had to see Theo half naked, I might as well attempt to make him as hot and bothered as me.
He nodded and pressed his lips in a hard line. Yep. Not even a flirty comeback. Every time Theo ignored an opportunity I lobbed at him to leave the friend zone, he chipped away at my self-esteem. It’d become harder to pretend like it didn’t bother me.
It was time to switch topics to something we could comfortably discuss, like art. Unfortunately, my brain and mouth failed to communicate. “Yeah, I don’t think sculpting topless would work for me, especially not with plaster and chisels.”
“Yeah,” he said, gripping the back of his neck. The movement made the muscles on his arms flex. “That could be dangerous.”
I needed to stop embarrassing myself, or Theo wouldn’t even want to be my friend. “I’m rambling. Sorry. That’s what I came here to say. I’m sorry I told everyone about the eviction. It wasn’t my place and—”
“Hey,” he said, placing his warm hand on my elbow. The least-sexiest part of anyone’s body, yet my stomach fluttered. “Don’t apologize.”