“How do you know I’m strong? I’m weedy as fuck.”
“No, you’re deceptively slim. I’ve seen you work. I know how much that body can lift. What those hands can do.”
Toby’s patented flush stained his cheeks. “Yeah, well. My dad never did. He caught me with flowers under my pillow and a boner over my Jared Leto poster, so...”
It wasn’t funny, but Toby’s expression was so adorable I couldn’t help smiling. “My dad owns a cut flower distribution empire, so there wouldn’t have been much he could’ve said about me stashing flowers under my pillow. What kind were they?”
“Cherry blossoms. I like the smell.”
“Valid. Did you have dinner at the house?”
“No.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why not, but the answer was obvious in every inch of his body that I could see: he was nervous as hell. And prolonging whatever would go down between us tonight was making it worse.
I stepped towards him.
He stepped back and bashed into the coffee table.
I spread my hands. “Easy. We can Netflix and chill if you want. Nothing needs to happen here.”
“I know that.”
“But you’re scared?”
“Terrified.”
“I’m a little scared too.”
Toby snorted. “Of what?”
“Of the fact I wanted to punch Angelo for being so close to you.”
“Angelo? Wha—” Realisation dawned. Toby coughed out a laugh. “Really? Angelo has been with his boyfriend even longer than Harry and Joe, and they go to sex parties in London when Angelo’s well. Plus, I’m like the annoying little brother, and—”
“Stop listing things you think make you unattractive.”
“I’m not. I’m just saying there’s no way Angelo would ever be on his knees for me for any reason other than picking something up from the floor. Which is what he was doing.”
“I know that. Still made me ragey, though. Weird, huh?”
“Very.”
“I wanted to grab you and haul you back here.”
“You could’ve done.”
“In front of Angelo?”
“Definitely in front of Angelo.”
I was missing something, but I was too caught up in the excitement of having Toby to myself. Finally. It had been a long few days since our last real conversation. My client list was full, and Ella wasn’t sleeping. Plus, my first two messages to Toby had gone unanswered. I had to know why before we opened a box we couldn’t shut. “Why didn’t you answer the first few messages I sent you? Second thoughts?”
“Huh? I didn’t get any messages.”
“I sent them on WhatsApp— Oh.” It dawned on me that I hadn’t checked the messages had delivered, let alone that Toby had read them. “You don’t have WhatsApp?”
Toby shook his head. “I do, but my phone isn’t connected to the internet.”