by Vicki Tharp
Roman took one of the lists. “I’ll start with the jackhammer and begin breaking up that sidewalk the tree roots have busted up.”
“I’ll start power washing the block walls,” Demetri said.
“Tavi and I can load the broken-up concrete into the dumpster,” Grant said as he shuffled through some papers. “It should already be on site.”
“And I’ve got a friend coming to help later,” Roman said.
“A friend?” Demetri asked.
For the first time since Roman came into the room, Demetri locked eyes with him. The quick spark of jealousy that flashed in them made Roman smile. Not so immune to Roman, after all.
“A friend,” Roman supplied. “From class. Emily. She needs community service hours, and I told her about the project.”
“Thanks,” Grant said, “We can use all the adult help we can get. It’s going to be interesting once the kids get involved. I have a feeling it’s going to be like herding hamsters. Let me know if she wants to work with the kids. She’ll have to fill out a form so I can run a background check.”
“I’ll let her know.”
Tavi walked into the break room. He was the teen Grant was fostering with his fiancé, Sebastian. Roman had met the kid a few days before. He must have already been in the building because Roman had locked the front door behind him.
Tavi swiped the long, dark bangs out of his face and handed a spiral art book to Grant. “I drew up some ideas for the wall like you asked.”
“Hey, kid,” Demetri said. “You recovered from the art opening?”
“I think. And Mr. Franklin called yesterday and said he thought he might have a buyer for one of my pieces. Can you believe that?”
“That’s awesome,” Roman said. He bobbed his chin toward the artbook. “Can we see?”
Grant opened the spiral and set it on the table in front of Demetri. “Come over here,” he said to Roman, “so you can get a better look.”
Roman moved around to the other side of the table, his hand on the back of Demetri’s chair for balance as he leaned over. The community lot had an ugly concrete block wall on three sides, leaving the front open to the street.
Tavi scooted the artbook closer. “This is the left wall. There are going to be kids of all ages using this space, so I wanted it to function for everyone.”
The first page had cartoon drawings of animals. Hippos. Zebra. Lions. Tigers. And a giraffe with his tongue sticking out as if eating the shrubs that draped over the wall.
“This first wall is for the little kids. Obvs.” Tavi turned the page. “The back wall will be for some of the elementary age kids. Superheroes and magical dragons.”
“That’s amazing work,” Roman said.
“Thanks. I tried to keep it simple. I thought the older kids could paint the outlines, and the younger ones could fill in the middle, like a giant paint by number.”
Grant put his arm around Tavi’s shoulders and pulled him to his side. “I’m proud of you, kid.”
Red rushed up Tavi’s face as he fought the smile.
“I don’t see why you need me,” Demetri said. “The kid’s got it all figured out.”
Grant patted Demetri’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. There’s plenty we’ll need you for.”
“What’s going on the third wall?” Roman asked.
Tavi nibbled on his lower lip, picked up the artbook, and turned the page. He held it to his chest so nobody could see. “I don’t know if this will fly. It’s just an idea I had, and if you don’t think it’s a good idea, we can do something else. Maybe something that Demetri comes up with and—”
Grant put a hand on Tavi’s shoulder and stopped the verbal vomit. “Take a breath. If we don’t like it, we’ll come up with something else.”
Tavi laid his sketch down. The third and final wall he’d divided into four blocked off sections, with what would be a painted frame around each blank ‘canvas.’
“I don’t get it,” Demetri said.
Grant’s brows knit in confusion. “Me neither.”
Before Tavi could explain, Roman said, “It’s a graffiti wall.”
Tavi held out his fist, and Roman bumped it. “At least one of you guys knows where it’s at. What do you think?”
“I think it’s sick,” Roman said, but it wasn’t his approval that Tavi sought.
“Interesting thought,” Demetri added.
Interesting, that’s all Demetri could say? Roman cut him a look. And Demetri held up his hands like what did you expect me to say?
“It could be a space for local kids to tag,” Tavi explained. “Maybe it’ll help keep them from tagging the other two walls. Plus, they get to showcase their talents. I figured once a month, we could repaint the area inside the frames, and it can start all over again.”
“I like the idea that the art will change and grow each month,” Demetri said.
Roman also saw the positives for the city. “And give some of the would-be taggers a place to go besides the railroad tracks or the alleys.”
“I like it.” Grant tugged at his bottom lip as he considered the idea. “It’ll be a living art piece.”
“But?” Tavi asked.
“My only concern is the cost. Repainting the graffiti sections every month will—”
“Be covered by Niko,” Demetri said. “He’s covering the cost of all materials for the community lot project.”
“Since when?” Grant couldn’t help but be a little suspicious, Roman supposed.
“Since we made a deal.”
“See,” Tavi said, “It’ll work. And if it becomes too much of a problem, we can always redesign that wall and make it something static.”
“I say we go for it.” Not that anyone had asked Roman, but he got a grin out of the kid, so that was worth it right there.
Grant clapped Tavi on the back. “Me, too.”
“Sweet,” Tavi said in that understated way teens have when they’re stoked but don’t want to look uncool and show it.
Grant stuffed the papers into his folder. “Let’s get out of here then.”
They all broke apart, and Grant turned to Tavi. “I thought Remy was supposed to meet us here this morning.”
“Remy?” Roman glanced over. “Does this mean I get to meet this boyfriend you keep talking about?”
“One, I mentioned him like twice, and two, yes. But he had a mandatory meeting this morning at the group home where he lives. Someone keeps swiping all the bars of soap.”
“Soap?” Demetri ran his hand absently through his bed-tussled hair, but he only made it worse... and sexier.
Tavi shrugged as he backed out of the break room. “Yeah, I don’t get it either.”
Grant retrieved his keys from his office. “You’re with me, kid. Maybe you two can carpool,” he said to Demetri. “I still have to pick up Remy, and I’m packed to the gills with supplies.”
Demetri glanced at Roman. Roman watched him bank the flash of terror in his eyes before anyone else could see it. Demetri swallowed hard, but his words still came out strangled. “Yeah, sure.”
6
Roman opened Demetri’s passenger door and leaned in. “Look, I can take my car. There’s no reason I can’t drive myself.”
Demetri should accept Roman’s offer. The less time they spent confined together, the better.
Or maybe if you spend more time with him, you’ll find his fatal flaw and you can stop this stupid, possibly career-ending, infatuation.
“Fatal flaw,” Demetri mumbled to himself. Maybe that was the trick.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. Get in.”
Tell him you’re poz. I bet you’ll find his fatal flaw then.
But Demetri didn’t. The part of him that wanted to take Niko’s advice and let Roman get to know him better before disclosing warred with the other part that knew getting to know Roman any better would be the stupidest career move he’d ever made.
“We gonna go? Or do you need a minute?” Roman
asked.
Demetri shook his head, dislodging some of the mental cobwebs and starting his car.
As soon as Roman buckled in, Demetri backed out. Roman’s wide shoulders bumped into his as they turned corners, his scent that same, mouth-watering hint of the forbidden he remembered so well from the alley.
Demetri tightened his grip on the wheel to prevent himself from parking on a side street, pulling Roman over the center console, and doing some of the naughty things he’d dreamt about.
They drove in near silence, the only sound besides the whirr of the wheels on the road beneath them, and the occasional honk was Roman’s middle finger tap, tap, tapping on his armrest.
Roman plucked at the front of his T-shirt. “Is it hot in here?”
Without waiting for a response, Roman buzzed down his window, the cool, early morning air blowing in and buffeting Demetri’s eardrums. Demetri lowered his window to equalize the pressure.
They turned the last corner, and the community lot came into view. Parking near the lot came at a premium. Since they didn’t have anything to unload, Demetri drove a couple of blocks past and pulled into one of the city parking lots.
“Is it going to be weird like this the whole time we’re working together?” Roman asked.
A valid question. “It doesn’t have to be.”
“It’s going to be if you can’t look me in the eye, or talk to me without looking the other way, or ignoring me, or—”
“I get it.” Demetri scrubbed his hands through his hair and caught his reflection in the side mirror. Shit. He’d left the house without even fixing his hair. Where had his head been?
Up your ass? Where it’s been ever since you spent a few magnificent minutes on your knees in a dark alley.
That’s helpful.
“I’m sorry.” Demetri glanced at Roman—at the line of his jaw, at the dark dusting of scruff on his cheeks, at those magnetic eyes that looked like they wanted so much more. They deserved so much more. “I just...”
Demetri didn’t know how to articulate his jumbled feelings. Fear over what he had to lose, but also the excitement, the thrill of the forbidden. And all that wasn’t even taking into account how Roman made him feel on the inside. How he made Demetri want to spill all his secrets and lay himself bare.
Secrets that would most likely send Roman running.
Here’s an idea, brainiac. Tell him. Tell him you’re poz and watch him run, and this whole thing will take care of itself. End it before it even starts.
But the hell of it was he didn’t want it to end. And it scared the bejesus out of him on so many levels to even start.
“You want to know what I think?”
Demetri shook his head, but still said, “What do you think?”
“I think you’re over-thinking things. I think that you should chill. Don’t jump twenty squares ahead and plan out every move as if you were in the final round of a grandmaster chess match.” Roman paused as if deciding what to say next. His gaze dropped to Demetri’s lips for a fraction of a second before locking onto Demetri’s eyes again. “And I think you should kiss me.”
Roman leaned over, their shoulders brushing, his voice barely a whisper when he said, “We’re alone. Nobody has to know.”
Demetri couldn’t say the devil made him do it. He didn’t believe in angels and devils. Only wants and needs and the power of the inevitable.
One kiss. What could it hurt?
“Fuck it,” Demetri muttered as he touched his lips to Roman’s.
He’d only meant for it to be the briefest of kisses, but like every time he’d been with Roman, things escalated. A brief touch of the lips deepened into this lip-locking, tongue-dueling, heart-tripping kiss that made Demetri’s reason turn to mush, and his will bend to Roman’s.
“Oh, hey. I thought that was you.” Demetri and Roman broke apart as Emily leaned down and rested her forearms on Roman’s windowsill. “Hi, professor. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Lucky coincidence.” If Emily noticed his voice cracking, she didn’t mention it. Like hey, that was fucking awkward, huh?
Demetri zipped up the windows and popped his door before Roman could get unbuckled. Emily stepped back, and Roman got out, catching Demetri’s eyes over the hood. “You’re mad.”
“I’m not mad.” At least not at Roman.
“Liar.” Roman closed the car door and walked off without looking back.
Demetri followed Roman and Emily as they backtracked the couple of blocks to the site. Emily had worn an old pair of cutoff jeans. Long threads dangled down her legs. Her cutoff shirt looked like it had been hacked off with a chainsaw and exposed much of her midriff. She was objectively attractive in a free spirit kind of way.
Roman and Emily talked and laughed, occasionally bumping arms or hips as they walked. An uncomfortable thought landed, hitting Demetri in the gut and making his breakfast want to come back up—was Roman bi?
He hadn’t asked.
Hard to do when your lips are wrapped around his dick.
But the thought that Demetri might have competition shoved all his concerns that Emily would take what she’d seen in the car straight to the dean to the back of his mind.
One building away from the lot, Roman stopped and waited for Demetri. Emily kept going.
Roman planted his hands on his hips, then pointed at Demetri’s face. “You don’t call that mad?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fine. But you might wanna wipe whatever that expression is off your face, or all day long, everyone will be asking you what’s wrong.”
Demetri closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand down his face wondering where the hell the reset button for his life was located. Fuck wanting tenure. He wanted his life back on an even keel where each step didn’t feel unstable and fraught with unforeseen danger.
Roman took a step closer, his voice measured when he said, “If you’re worried about what happened back there, don’t be. Emily’s cool. She wouldn’t say anything.”
“You’ve known her what, five, six days?”
“Sometimes, you just have a good feeling about somebody. I can’t explain it.”
Roman’s voice rumbled. Low. Intimate. Were they even talking about Emily anymore?
Didn’t feel like it.
And he’d have to take Roman vouching for Emily at face value. It wasn’t like he was going to confront one of his students and ask them to forget what they’d seen.
Unfortunately, unless he wanted to make a complete ass of himself and draw more attention to the kiss in the car, he had no choice but to trust Roman’s instincts.
Roman clapped a hand on Demetri’s shoulder. “Come on. There’s a pressure washer waiting with your name on it.”
Around noon, Grant had lunch and drinks delivered to the site. After several hours wrangling a cantankerous jackhammer, Roman’s stomach growled like a starving tiger. He and Emily sat on the curb as Grant rounded up the rest of the crew to give them food.
“Do you two have a thing?” Emily asked.
Roman choked on his bite of pizza. He didn’t insult her intelligence by asking who she meant. “I wouldn’t call it a thing.”
He and Demetri had known each other for only a week, and in Roman’s book, you couldn’t call a few stolen kisses and a blowjob a ‘thing.’
“Why do you think that?” Not only had he not talked to Demetri all morning, but they’d worked on opposite sides of the site.
“Well, there was the kiss in the car that made me hot, and I wasn’t even involved. Plus, the professor can’t keep his eyes off you. I mean, I get your attraction to him. That lean, body with an artistic vibe, the professor’s sexy as fuck.”
Roman glanced behind him. Demetri stood with Grant in the middle of the lot, eating their slices, deep in discussion about the work, if the way they kept pointing at different areas gave any indication.
Tavi and his boyfriend Remy had dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legg
ed while they inhaled the contents of the box of pizza Grant had walked over.
“I think you’re dehydrated, and your mind is playing tricks on you.” Roman grabbed one of the cold bottles of water, twisted off the top, and handed it to her. “This should help.”
She laughed but said, “We were power-washing near each other all morning. I know what I saw.”
Fortunately, Demetri and Grant walked over, and Roman didn’t have to answer. He didn’t quite know how to explain, categorize, or unravel the complexities of the draw and fascination he had with Demetri.
Talk turned to plans for the lot. Not only later that day but for Sunday and the next weekend when they hoped to have their first group of kid volunteers from the Center come and help.
In no time, they all demolished three large pizzas. Roman lay back on a whole section of the sidewalk, stretching out his back. The vibrations from the jackhammer ghosted in his hands and arms, and his shoulders had started to stiffen.
“Time to get back to it,” Grant said.
The boys groaned but pulled their work gloves out of their back pockets and headed for the wheelbarrow they’d been filling with the broken-up chunks of concrete and dumping in the big blue walk-in dumpster.
Emily stood and gathered up the trash from lunch. Grant mumbled something about calling and checking on Vondra at the Center, leaving Demetri standing over Roman.
Roman raised a hand and shielded his eyes from the high sun. Concrete dust lay in all his sweaty nooks and crannies, and he couldn’t wait to go home and shower it off.
If he got lucky, maybe he wouldn’t be showering alone.
Demetri held out his hand, and Roman locked wrists with him and allowed Demetri to pull him to his feet. “How are you holding up? You need me to spell you on the jackhammer?”
Roman grinned. “That thing would take you for a ride.”
Much like Roman wanted to do with Demetri.
“Oh, and fair warning,” Roman said, “if you want to keep us on the down low, you gotta stop staring at me like I’m a chocolate chunk cookie, and you got diagnosed with diabetes.”
Demetri’s face flamed, and Roman grinned, not because of Demetri’s embarrassment, but because Demetri didn’t dispel the notion of his attraction. And even better, he didn’t reiterate that something between them couldn’t happen.