STEFANO {Published/Sample Only}

37

"Beach?" Mark walked out of his room, in shorts and a polo now and I turned from his bookshelf to him, waving the little flag he had stashed there.

"Independiente Medellín." I waved the little soccer flag in my hand before propping it back up on his shelf.

"You know your soccer," he laughed. "One of my favorite teams."

"Really? Colombia?"

He smiled back. "I'm half Colombian, my mom's from Medellín."

Colombian? "I thought..."

"My dad is half Mexican, and half Irish- raised in Sacramento," he laughed. "I'm a mutt- Colombian, Irish, Mexican."

"That's a good mix."

"I can't complain," he popped his collar on his shirt, flashing me a smile... damn.

I looked back towards his bedroom but he was swinging his front door open, waving me out. No, no out. "We could stay in..." In your bed...

"Let's walk." And he walked right out. So.. no bed then.

I followed him out his gate and he reached his hand for mine, while I instinctively looked around us- only to remember nobody knew who the fuck I was out here. So I took his hand, weaving my fingers with his.

This was crazy. I was walking in perfect daylight, perfectly sober, hand in hand- with my boyfriend. Who the fuck was I.

"So I won't be home tomorrow. I can't call in and have work at seven."

But I was finally here! "Can't you call in sick?"

"People call in sick to see me," he shrugged. "I can't do that to the hospital."

I wasn't ready to leave, wasn't ready to be alone again. "Can I see you after?"

He flashed his eyes up to mine. "Would you just stay at my place?"

"I might go see the twins, make sure they know who their favorite zio is." So I could rub it in Luca's face later.

"I'll be back home at six, I guess I'll just give you a key. But no beating up my neighbors," he laughed. "Jared might stop by and return my Mac charger."

Another guy, and on a first name basis. "Who the fuck's Jared? And why was he borrowing your charger?"

He looked up at me, tight lipped smile on his face. "A neighbor and it's just a charger."

No one ever asked to borrow my shit.

"Mark!"

I instinctively dropped his hand, only to grab it right back up. "Sorry, knee jerk reaction." I tightened my hand in his. "Baby steps."

We followed the voice, turning around while he searched the crowded boardwalk, finally shooting his hand up to wave. "Those are my neighbors, Zach and Sara," he whispered, nodding his head towards a couple coming our way.

They walked up, eyes down on our hands, then smiling to each other before the girl turned to Mark, shrieking. "I'm so happy you're finally over that asshole from New York!"

That... My fingers instinctively went straight but his curled over them, keeping our hands locked.

"Um, Zach, Sara!" Mark's voice was suddenly two octaves higher than normal. "This is Stefano, said asshole from New York."

"Really!" Asshole from New York!

"Sorry, reformed asshole from New York," he shrugged.

His friends' smiles flipped, eyes like slits, looking me up and down, tsking under their breaths. What the fuck...