Page 38 of The Comfort Trap

I nod. "I mean, it's Eli. Who the hell knows? But..." I trail off, watching him for a second before looking away. "If he is, it'd be good. They've earned it."

I nod, not pushing it, even though there's a question hanging in the air between us. A question I'm not sure either of us is ready to ask yet. Instead, I reach out and take his hand, lacing our fingers together. It's a small thing, but it feels big.

"Yeah," I agree, squeezing his hand. "They have."

We stand there a while longer, browsing, occasionally pointing out some rare find or laughing at some ridiculous album cover. The shop is quiet except for the soft hum of the old fan in the corner and the occasional rustle of vinyl sleeves. It's comfortable, this silence between us. Easy in a way I never thought I'd have.

Eventually, Patrick pulls out his phone to check the time, groaning when he sees how late it's getting. "Shit, I gotta get back to the coffee shop. Gabriel's solo on the register today, and I promised I'd be back by the next rush."

"I'll drive you there," I offer, already heading for the door with our new records in tow.

He follows me out, and we step into the bright LA sun, squinting against the sudden glare. The street is busy, people bustling by with their headphones in, glued to their phones,completely oblivious to the world around them. It's a stark contrast to the quiet bubble we left behind.

My car's parked a few blocks down, and as we walk, Patrick's hand finds mine again, his skin warm against my palm. I glance over at him, taking in the way his hair catches the light, the way his lips curl up at the corners.

"You're staring," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I am," I reply, unashamed. "You got a problem with that?"

He glances up at me, a familiar glint of mischief looking back. "Are you trying to pull that dom shit out here in public?" he says, his grip tightening around mine enough to make my pulse quicken.

I laugh. "Baby, I'd do whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted. And love every damn second of it."

He laughs then too, the sound vibrating through his body and into mine where we're pressed together. "Well, now," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. "We both know you're exaggerating.”

He pulls back, intensity in his expression. “And I’m proud of you, Ricky. Because you're going to communicate your feelings, or risk seriously disappointing me... Got it?" He glares, pressing closer until there's no space left between us, just the heat of his body and the steady thump of his heart against my ribs.

I can't help but smirk, my hand sliding around his waist to pull him even closer, until I can feel every breath he takes. "Yessir. I promise," I say.

He buries his face in my shoulder, his words muffled by my shirt.

I slide my arm from his grip, instead draping it over his shoulders and pulling him flush against my side. The kiss I press against his temple is quick. "I love everything about you," I murmur against his skin.

His hand fists in the back of my shirt, the fabric bunching under his grip as he leans in further. "I'm so fucking lucky for that," he whispers, the words nearly lost in the street noise.

"Luck's got nothing to do with it," I say, kissing his temple again, tasting the salt of his sweat and the warmth of his skin beneath my lips. I breathe him in, his smell intoxicating as we walk up to the crosswalk and I hit the button, waiting for it to let us cross. I lower my arm to around his waist and keep him pressed into my side.

"When I get home after work tonight," Patrick starts, "Maybe we can..."

"We can what? Start organizing bills for tax season? I was thinking exactly the same thing," I joke.

"No!" He pulls back with a grimace. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I like numbers."

"Yes, I know. That’s entirely the only thing that's wrong with you, and I'm not putting up with it."

I laugh, gripping a solid feel of his ass before sliding my hand down the inside of his thigh.

"Ricky!" He says, smacking my hand behind him with a warning. "Not in public. You know I don't like abrasive PDA."

I laugh, throwing my head back. "Oh yeah? That's a lie, and you know it."

"What?" He argues. "Since when? Since when do I like PDA—"

"Walking down the street just now. And you were all over me that day we had to go rescue Aubrey, remember? Back when we made us official. You're the one that threw me onto the hood of my car to start making out, before Eli and Aubrey even got back to meet us at the shop."

"Key word,beforethey got back to the shop."