Tav just stared at him.
“Tav?” Luca prompted.
Tav was just…looking at him, completely still. There was a tiny crease between his eyebrows, and a pinch at the corner of his mouth, and Luca could almost see the cogs turning behind that immobile, sharp face. Could see the pennies dropping, all in a row. Could see a calculation happening, but Luca didn’t know the numbers, never mind the formula.
“What’s―?”
Tav moved. His gloves were cold on Luca’s cheeks and jaw, and the garden wall even colder against the backs of Luca’s legs. His mouth was hot though, and insistent—in a moment, he’d stolen Luca’s air and ability to speak, invaded his senses with heat and smell, and the kiss was so hard it hurt, and so fierce it burned. The leftover bruises on Luca’s face exploded in pain, and yet he clutched back, fisting his hands in Tav’s coat and opening up, pulling Tav as close as possible, as though he could inhale Tav’s very soul from that one, harsh, demanding kiss.
Cold air swirled around Luca’s neck and he could breathe only for a moment, and then his blood caught fire as Tav wrapped his lips around Luca’s skin and bit him, sharp teeth digging in just under his jaw and undoubtedly leaving a brand new bruise to match his facial collection. “Fuck,” Luca breathed, shuddering in Tav’s grip and scrabbling for purchase on that grey coat. “Fuck-fuck-fuck, what’re you playing at, oh-my-God…”
Tav’s reply said it all.
“Mine.”
Ah. So that was the problem.
* * * *
“You’re a crazy sex psycho.”
Tav turned from the microwave at the accusation, and smirked. Luca was damp from the shower, wearing a pair of boxers from Tav’s underwear drawer, and absolutely nothing else.
“C’mere.”
“Fat chance, you’ll bite me again.”
“Maaaaaybe,” Tav drawled, and Luca laughed. Tav’s stomach twisted. He was so fucking ridiculously beautiful, and it hurt sometimes. “C’mere.”
“You gonna bite me?”
“No?”
“Oh yeah, that was convincing,” Luca said, but when Tav lifted his arm and beckoned, Luca rolled off the doorframe like a porn star and padded into reach. Tav wrapped his arm tightly around those naked shoulders and pressed his nose into clean, wet curls. God, this felt better. “Hello.”
“Hey.”
“So your problem is you got jealous?”
Tav squirmed. “Uh. Yeah. Maybe.”
“Totally,” Luca said, and kissed Tav’s jaw. “You got into a jealous snit because of Aaron?”
“Yeah,” Tav said, and sighed. “Told you it was stupid.”
“Yeah, pretty stupid.”
“It was like…” The microwave pinged, and Tav ignored it. “I can’t explain it properly, but it was like…I knew in my head you’d be kissing Aaron, but the minute I saw it, my brain just went on a trip and the rest of me was furious. And I know I have no reason to be pissed off, and it’s not like you or Aaron were even into it, but…I just suddenly got really angry and I wanted to punch him.”
“Do you want to punch him now?”
“No.”
“So, then, that’s not really a problem,” Luca said, shrugging. He slid his arms around Tav’s chest, and that damp head came to rest on Tav’s shoulder. “You angry with me?”
“No,” Tav said honestly, squeezing. He slid his hand down Luca’s back. “I just got…really smacked in the chest with this jealousy. I wanted to punch him for kissing you, even though I knew he was going to and I don’t actually care. You know? It’s like…like one part of my brain disagrees with the other part. I didn’t care, ‘cause it’s you and Aaron and it’s not like it’s for real anyway, but then when I saw it…”
“I get it,” Luca said quietly. He wriggled and kissed Tav’s jaw again, and when Tav looked, those dark eyes were wide and transparent. “You feeling better now though?”
“Yeah.”
“If it upsets you, I don’t have to do it.”
“Nah,” Tav said. “I feel fine now.” He did. And he’d get over the snit. It wasn’t like he actually had anything to worry about. “How’s your face?” He was well aware he’d not exactly been gentle, and the bruises along the edge of Luca’s jaw had darkened further. Probably from Tav’s hands.
“Bit sore, but I’ll live,” Luca said, and grinned. “You actually going to get those snacks so we can watch TV, or are we just going to stand in your kitchen and hug until your family come home?”
Tav snorted and popped the microwave open. It was an effort to let Luca go—come on, he was almost naked, that was just sadistic—but he eventually managed and got the bowl of popcorn out. “Just salted, or d’you want plain, too?”
“Salted’s good,” Luca shrugged, stealing a handful. “For the record, I’m serious. If you do get proper annoyed about this play, then I can always drop out.”
Tav shook his head. “No,” he said. “I know it’s stupid of me―”
“Yup.”
“―and I’ll get over it. Can’t be stopping you doing something every time I get jealous.”
Luca blinked. “Every time? You’ve been jealous before? When?”
Tav grimaced. “Remember last year when your swimming coach had you all doing your lifesaving skills?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Then.”
“Jealous of what? Who? Why would you―”
“Because David got to get all handsy towing you through the water when you played victim,” Tav groused. “It was dumb then and it’s dumb now, but I could’ve happily drowned him.”
Luca laughed and briefly hugged Tav from behind again before padding back towards the hall. “You’re the only one who gets all handsy with me!” he shouted over his shoulder.
“Glad to fucking hear it!” Cradling the hot ceramic in a tea towel, Tav followed Luca back towards the stairs, only to be stopped halfway up them by soft hands sliding around the back of his neck and a kiss-swollen mouth on his.
“And after tonight’s little temper tantrum in your bed, feel free to get momentarily jealous any time,” Luca murmured against his lips, then backed up and grinned, vanishing into Tav’s bedroom like an evil, sexy mirage.
Tav shook his head and rebooted his brain. Seriously. He was dating a total fucking monster.
“Come on, Tav!”
Tav laughed, and followed. As they settled back into bed with popcorn and a film, Tav felt the anxiety of Jack Collins, the pre-Christmas build-up, and Aaron’s play beginning to finally ease. The play was meaningless. Christmas was almost on top of them. And Jack was gone.
Right?
Chapter 11: “It’s not a threat, it’s a pillock!”
“Up!”
Luca groaned when sunlight burst into the room. The curtains rattled; a hand swatted at his head, ruffling his hair before he could pull the duvet up to protect himself. “Mamma!” he wailed in protest.
“Up, both of you!” she insisted. “Breakfast is on the table! Lots to do!”
“But Mamma, it’s too early!”
“It’s Christmas Eve!” she insisted. “Up! If you’re not down in ten minutes, I’m sending your father up!”
Then she was gone, clomping down the attic stairs. Luca faintly heard her barging into Angelo and Tomas’ room and start chivvying them, too.
“I’m dead,” Paolo’s hoarse voice announced from the other side of their shared room. “Tell her I died. You can even have my share of Christmas dinner tomorrow.”
“Fuck you,” Luca said. “If I have to suffer, I don’t see why you should get out of it.”
“Twat.”
“Pillock.”
Luca rolled out of bed and stretched before reaching for clothes. He’d moved into Paolo’s room when Antonio had moved out of the house. It had been in that weird time just after his parents had found out he was gay, and Paolo—well, Paolo had overheard it all, and been really cool about it. Angelo, however, had been like eleven and just entering his fucknu
t phase, and so sharing a room with him had been mega-awkward. So Luca had moved up here.
Mostly, it was pretty good. Paolo only half lived at home anymore—he sofa-surfed a lot with his stoner nerd friends now, and even if Paolo was home, Luca spent most of his time at Tav’s anyway—and he’d always been the most…maybe not coolest of Luca’s brothers, but the easiest to get on with. Paolo was so laid-back he was practically horizontal, and it had been nice to just hide up here and not get judged, back then.
But this was the downside—Mamma came up a lot to nag Paolo into moving occasionally, and it meant Luca got nagged, too. And seeing as how Luca was frankly still tired and sore from Tav’s massive fit of jealousy the other day…
Fuck. This. Shit.
Dressed—decently, if not well—Luca wandered downstairs, yawning and ruffling his hair until it resembled something like what you’d find on a human being’s head. His father, bags under his eyes and already dressed to go out on his rounds, was at the kitchen table drinking coffee, and merely grunted in Luca’s direction. Luca grunted back, foraging for orange juice.
“You look a mess!” Mamma scolded as she appeared in a flurry, towing a whining Angelo by the ear. “Luca, when you’ve had your breakfast, take the bins out and bring the recycling boxes back in. Then you can start on the bathroom. Angelo, stop making a fuss! You’ll be helping me with the kitchen. Goodness knows this house needs bringing back to order before tomorrow!”
Grumpily, Luca thought that if the house needed to be brought to order, then she’d be better off hiring a drill sergeant cleaner or something. But he wasn’t stupid, even this early, and just knocked back his juice.
“‘Kay, Mamma,” he mumbled, and stuffed his feet into a pair of trainers—possibly not his, judging by the mismatched laces, but close enough. The bins had already been bagged up by the back door, and he wandered through the house to open every door before picking all three up in both hands, and staggering back out to the front of the house.
It was icy outside. Literally—the world had frozen overnight, Dad’s car a tomb of white, and the bins slippery and stiff to open. He hadn’t thought to put a jacket on, and his fingers were already stiffening as he dropped the stuffed bags into the outside bins. Tav’s house, when he glanced enviously across the road, was dead silent. Lucky bastard. Maybe Luca should’ve stayed there last night.
Or maybe he could bribe Tav to come over later and help him out with chores. Double the hands, half the work—then twice the fun later. And if he was stuck babysitting, even better, ‘cause little Amy could distract Mamma and—
The splash of colour caught his eye as he turned back towards the house, and Luca froze.
His breath caught in his throat, and he simply…stopped. The door…the dark front door had been…been…
“Luca! Come inside before you let all the heat out!”
Luca opened his mouth, but the air felt too sharply cold for his lungs. He couldn’t inhale or speak. His own heart was beating a tattoo in his chest, too fast and too loud. And the door—the door…
“Luca!” Mamma appeared in the kitchen doorway, a dark shadow in the gold light of the hall. Luca could barely make her out beyond the bright, wet red on the front door. “Come inside!”
“I―”
He heard his voice crack. He saw Mamma frown. He saw her stride along the hallway and jerk the door wider—and saw her eye caught, saw her twist…
She screamed. There was a bang, and Dad came running. There were more pounding feet on the stairs, and suddenly Paolo was hanging over the edge of the banisters, hair all over the place.
“Paul, call the police! And Antonio! Now! Luca, Luca, come inside, don’t look at it, don’t look—vile, absolutely disgusting―”
In dripping, bright red paint, the door had been daubed with three words, in foot-high letters.
UR DED FAG.
* * * *
Tav jerked awake, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling. For a moment, his brain scrambled to catch up on itself. Something had woken him—he was shaking in his bed, but there was no nightmare or noise clawing at his ears.
Except…wait, no, there was a noise. Outside.
Tav relaxed. Just neighbours having a pre-Christmas domestic or something. He blinked at the ceiling, rubbing sleep from his eyes, and tracked the flashing lights. Some neighbour’s Christmas lights, no doubt.
Only they were…frequent. And really bright, for morning.
Huffing, curiosity got the better of him, and Tav heaved himself up on the mattress, scrabbling at the windowsill, and pulled back the edge of the curtain to peer into the icy morning.
Then he shot off the bed, grabbing for a pair of jeans. The lights were a police car. There was a police car outside Luca’s house.
Tav ran down the stairs with his jeans undone and his sleep shirt in a tangle. He shoved his feet into his shoes without any socks at the door, and grabbed an old cardigan of his mam’s rather than his coat, but then he was out the door and across the street, pelting towards the cluster of people in the front garden.
Mamma Alessandra was in tears, one hand on Luca’s thin shoulder and the other jabbing a burly-looking policeman in the chest with an extended finger. She was shouting, too. Mr. Jensen was leaning against the house, arms folded over his chest and frowning. Luca was similarly dressed to Tav, arms wrapped around himself, and Tav hopped the wall without thinking about it and slid both arms around Luca’s waist. Luca ducked into him without a word, so cold even his curly hair felt chilly.
“―some trouble at school recently, one of the other boys, but nothing before that, no―”
Mamma Alessandra was in full flow. Everyone else was just…still. Luca, his dad, the shadow of one of his younger brothers in the hall. Even the policeman was just frowning at his notebook and scribbling down Mamma Alessandra’s words in an untidy scrawl.
“What happened?” Tav whispered, ducking his head against Luca’s like they were kids. Luca grunted. “Luc?”
“The door.”
Mr. Jensen was blocking Tav’s view of the door, and Tav didn’t really want to let go—so he hugged Luca tighter instead, feeling that somehow Luca was the centre of the entire thing
“What happened?” he repeated slowly.
Mr. Jensen seemed to hear him that time, and stepped aside. He pulled the front door to behind him, and the ripple of morning light across the dark wood lit up the paint that Tav hadn’t seen before.
Or—
Not paint.
UR DED FAG.
A cold fist clenched around Tav’s stomach. He physically twitched closer to Luca, one arm raising in an aborted motion as though to pull him away from the words. Then Tav’s head kicked in—a bit, anyway—and he twisted the cotton of Luca’s T-shirt in his hands.
“Jack,” he said.
The policeman glanced up. “Sorry?”
“It’s Jack Collins,” Tav said.
“Tav!” Luca said.
“It is!” Tav insisted. “First your locker at school, then the fight about swimming, and now this! Come on, Luca, it’s blatantly him!”
The copper pushed back his helmet to scratch at thinning ginger hair. “There’s been issues before this?”
“The school were looking into it,” Mamma Alessandra said, wiping her eyes. Mr. Jensen unpeeled himself from the wall to wrap an arm around her. “I won’t have threats made against my boys, officer!”
“It’s not a threat, it’s a pillock!” Luca protested.
“Luca, quiet,” Mr. Jensen warned.
“It’s mouthing off! Jack couldn’t hold his own against Paolo in a fight, for God’s―”
Brakes squealed. A car shot around the corner into the road, screeching over the potholes and skidding to a wonky halt behind Tav’s Mam’s car. The driver’s door slammed, and then Antonio was striding across the road, scowl firmly in place.
“What the fuck’s—what the fuck is that?” he demanded, interrupting himself and jabbing a stubby finger
at the graffitied door.
“Who called him?!” Luca demanded.
“I did, and mind your tone,” Mr. Jensen said sternly.
“Who the fuck did that?!” Antonio demanded. “And who’s the pig?”
“Antonio!” Mr. Jensen barked. The policeman frowned, but said nothing.
“It was Jack Collins at school,” Tav said firmly, and groaned when Luca shrugged him off. “You know I’m right!”
“I know I don’t need the police knocking on his door and making me out like some grass!” Luca seethed, rounding on Tav and shoving him full in the chest.
“Luca! Basta!” Mamma Alessandra shouted.
“Everyone calm down!” the copper said, in a voice that managed to shout without shouting. “We will conduct a thorough investigation, without the need for anyone to resort to violence. More fighting is the last thing anyone needs.”
“I’ll deal with it!” Luca insisted.
“Oh, like you did before?” Antonio snapped, and jerked Luca away from Tav by the neck of his T-shirt. Suddenly the brothers were nose-to-nose, and both snarling. “You said there was no fucking problem with this kid, you told Mamma and Dad and everyone that that shit at the pool was just a crap row, and he does this? The hell kind of dealing with it you been doing, Luc?”
“Hey!”
Mr. Jensen and the copper broke them apart. Luca was grinding his teeth; Antonio looked angrier than Tav had ever seen him, those dark features twisted in an ugly glower.
“You sort it the fuck out,” Antonio snarled, “or I will. And there won’t be shit left of the little bastard to graffiti nothing, you understand me?”
“One more word and I will arrest you for disturbing the peace,” the copper snapped.
“I’d like to see you fucking try!” Antonio flared up, and then Mamma Alessandra was shrieking at him in furious Italian. Luca shrugged off his father’s hand—and Tav’s, too, when he reached out.
“Piss off,” Luca snapped.
“Oh come on, Luc, you gonna let Jack get away with this shit?” Tav demanded. “He’s been a―”
The Italian Word for Kisses Page 10