Page 13 of Boy Friends
‘It was leftover,’ I lie, feeling self-conscious and stupid. No better way to disprove the rumours than to bake a cake for the boy I’m allegedly in love with. Well done, Luca.
‘It’s still warm,’ Simo notes. I shrug and push myself off the kerb. ‘Am I meant to eat it all by myself?’
‘I’ve seen you eat, Simo. I know you can do it.’
‘That’s not the question, is it?’
With the bag in his arms, he retreats, leaving the door open. I’m still puzzling over the meaning of his words when he taps his knuckles against the kitchen window from the inside. I roll my eyes, but only because I’m trying to hide a smile. By the time I’ve placed the bike against the fence and closed the door behind me, Simo is back in the hallway. He hands me the cheesecake on a plate with two forks. He’s so close now I can see the pillow imprint on his cheek. I grip the plate tighter, fighting the urge to smooth the wrinkles away.
So much for ‘allegedly’. I’m fooling no one, least of all myself. But I don’t need Simo to be my boyfriend. I don’t need Simo to be in love with me, ever. I only need him to need me a little. I need him to want me in his life, the way I want him in mine. Which means he can’t find out about the heart. We laughed it off the first time, on theclassroom floor under the tables, but we’re past the point of pretending it’s a joke. He’ll keep shutting himself away until he’s completely out of reach.
‘You look like you could use emotional support food too,’ Simo says, and heads up the stairs.
‘When don’t I?’ I mutter, and follow him to his room.
CHAPTER 6 – SIMO
‘Simo, did you know that our supply closet is haunted?’ Maz asks from behind the coffee machine. He hands Joni her takeaway Americano, and she grunts a goodbye and walks out of the cafe, back to the library.
‘You don’t say,’ I reply with a grin. On the counter in front of me sits an empty plate, with only crumbs remaining from yesterday’s cheesecake.
‘Someone ought to call Lockwood & Co.,’ Maz says and shakes his head with fake concern. ‘While they’re on the case, they can sort out the poltergeist nesting in my sock drawer.’
‘Don’t forget the demon in the toaster,’ I add.
‘Or the soot sprites in the attic.’
‘Are you done?’ Luca asks, watching the exchange between Maz and me with his arms crossed over his work apron.
‘Not yet,’ Maz says to him. ‘The opportunity to mock you for thinking there’s an evil spirit in the supply closet is too good to pass up.’
Luca pouts. ‘Says the man who checks his astrology app daily and greets every magpie he sees.’
‘That’s different!’ Maz insists.
‘Is it?’ I ask.
‘I feed you, Simo, so it’s unwise to turn on me,’ Maz grumbles.
‘I’m not going in there alone,’ Luca reiterates. ‘I don’t trust that door, and the light has stopped working. Again. And there’s no phone signal either. And every time I enter, something falls off a shelf and nearly decapitates me. No amount of coffee beans is worth me losing my head. And the window is too tiny to climb out if I get stuck in there on my own. And I’m not even afraid of spiders, but I swear they’re not meant to be that big. And I will keep complaining until you stop me.’
Maz cocks his head. ‘I was just curious to see how long it would take you to run out of breath.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ I say. It’s not Luca’s first supply-closet rant and I want to see what’s really behind this ‘haunting’. It’s my way of returning the emotional support cheesecake. Not that I keep a tally, but whenever I’m slipping into a bad place, Luca always manages to pull me back from the brink. I don’t think he realises how often he stands between me and a shit day. He’s my emotional support human.
‘Finally,’ he says, and stomps away. When I join him by the door beneath the staircase, he instructs me to keep it open and use my phone torch to light up the dingy room. There’s not an inch of available space, with shelves and boxes stacked in every corner. I watch Luca climb over sacks of potatoes to reach the coffee beans, mesmerised by the way the muscles in his arms strain whenever he shiftshis balance. ‘I changed that bulb last week, you know. The one before that flickered even when it was off.’
I grin to myself but stop when I spot a stack of pots and pans sliding off a wonky shelf.
‘Watch out!’ I shout, but Luca is crouching in a corner with no chance to make it out.
‘No!’ he shouts, when I launch myself into the cupboard. I make it just in time to shield him from the avalanche. He was a second away from being pulp. The door falls shut with a malicious-sounding click. ‘I told you to keep it open at all costs!’
‘It was either that or a trip to the hospital, you knob,’ I retort, lying halfway across him with a bunch of rusty cookware in my arms. His breath tickles my neck. He smells of sugar and coffee, and for a moment I forget the sorry situation we’re in. Until the bulb flickers and launches us back into half-light. ‘OK, that’s creepy. I give you that.’
It takes several minutes until we’re untangled, not helped by the fact that Luca is getting increasingly flustered and I’m trying to keep from laughing. This feels too silly to be happening. I stop when I end up with my nose in his armpit, which would be cosier than it sounds, if it wasn’t also for Luca’s knee in my gut. When we’re finally up, I’m sweaty and a dozen bruises richer.
‘You don’t have your phone, do you?’ Luca whispers hoarsely.
