Page 44 of Wear It Like a Crown

“I should probably sit you down and make you watch it with me. Doing my duty to the country.” Leo fingered the edges of the betting list, but his gaze was on Joshua. “Now spill. What’s got you frowning at nothing?”

Joshua exhaled through his nose. “Just, like. Thinking about what I want, I guess.”

“What you want?” Leaning his hip against the wall, Leo waited for a moment before he added, “From life? For breakfast? Under the Christmas tree?”

Against his will, Joshua found himself smiling just slightly. “When it comes to a relationship. That I don’t need a queue of guys. That I’d be happy with just one person who looks at me with stars in his eyes.” He shook his head. “I told you it’s silly.”

“And I told you it probably wouldn’t be, and it isn’t. ‘Fraid I don’t have anything useful to offer, though. Very limited experience myself.” Leo lifted one shoulder. Under his thin T-shirt, his collarbones shifted with the gesture. Joshua wanted to lick them. He wanted to press Leo back against the fridge and kiss him until they were breathless and stupid with it.

Not going to happen.

“You haven’t dated much?” Joshua asked.

Another shrug. “Try ‘not at all’.”

“But you—why?” Joshua was staring; he knew he was staring. “I mean, you must have tons of offers? You’re, like, gorgeous, and clever, and—” And Joshua needed to shut his mouth. “I don’t get it,” he finished lamely.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But there’s really nothing much to get.” Leo’s smirk had a strange twist to it, but Joshua didn’t think it was directed at him. Touching his chest, Leo’s next words sounded like a recital. “Sometimes things just happen.”

Meaning he wasn’t willing to discuss it. All right, then. Joshua should have been used to running into Leo’s invisible walls, but he’d felt like Leo had opened up today, as though maybe…

Maybe nothing.

“So what was up with you earlier?” Joshua asked instead. A deal was a deal.

“Oh, that.” Leo’s smirk made room for a frown. “I didn’t realise people are quite that bad when it comes to stalking you. Had me a bit blindsided, that kind of disrespect for your privacy.”

“You get used to it.”

“Well, you bloody shouldn’t. It’s none of their business where you live, or who you hang out with. They need to mind their own fucking business instead of living vicariously through Twitter.” Leo shoved away from the wall, messing up his hair with one hand. His fringe stuck up a little and gave him a frazzled air, a mad genius in training. In spite of it all, Joshua gave a soft laugh.

Leo fixed him with a wry look. “It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not.” Joshua inhaled and sobered. “But it can’t be changed either, so I prefer not to think about it. Things just happen sometimes, right?”

“Did you or did you not”—Leo crooked his fingers into a pistol—“just have the audacity to quote my own tattoo at me?”

“Your tattoo?”

“‘Sometimes things just happen. Other times you make them happen.’” Tugging at the collar of his T-shirt, Leo brought it down just enough to show the upper curves of small black letters scrawled across the left side of his chest. Fuck, that wasn’t fair. Joshua didn’t have a tattoo kink or anything, but he itched to touch this one, was starting forward already by the time he caught himself. He attempted to turn it into a casual thing by moving past Leo to reach for a bowl. Crisps, right. The crisps needed to go into a bowl, and Joshua needed to get a grip.

“Looks nice,” he told Leo in what he hoped passed for a nonchalant compliment. “Is there a story behind it?”

“There is,” Leo said, but he didn’t go on to explain. Instead, he slapped his hand over the betting list and asked, “This is for the World Cup, right? What are the stakes?”

“Your honour is at stake,” Mo answered for Joshua, walking into the kitchen with Nate just a step behind.

“Obviously.” Leo tilted his head. “What else?”

Mo grabbed the crisps from Joshua and ripped them open, offering the bag to Nate who declined with a polite shake of his head. Shrugging, Mo helped himself and said around a mouthful, “We were thinkingyour soul and five litres of blood. Blood can be yours or someone else’s, up to you.”

“Plus a bottle of wine,” Joshua added. At Leo’s surprised look, Joshua tilted his head. “What did you expect?”

Leo hesitated. “Something like a few thousand quid. Unless by wine, you mean some crazy expensive stuff.”

“It’s not about the money,” Joshua told him, a little miffed.

“Sorry,” Leo said softly. “It honestly wasn’t intended as a dig. But people typically bet money, and you guys are rich.”