What did Zane have to offer in return other than sex education on his own terms? Roach was a handyman extraordinaire and could fix anything from a broken pipe to a car as if it was no big deal, when all Zane could do was provide moral support while Roach worked . The one time Roach had called him a leech, it was to spite him, but wasn’t the insult true at its core? Zane wasn’t contributing as much money as he thought he did, but other than the single Saturday shift at the diner, he hadn’t taken on any more work, happy to eat Roach’s food, sleep in his bed, and wear his socks.
“Are you okay?” Gale asked Zane. “I heard you got ill too?” A decent enough attempt at small talk. Since that initial clash, their feelings for each other had thawed, especially now that Gale couldn’t hide his vulnerability behind the overtly-sexual facade anymore, but they weren’t exactly ‘friends’ either.
Zane shrugged. “I’m fine. Just a bit under the weather.”
But he was distracted, because now that he’d started thinking about it, conflicting feelings created a tangle in his brain and refused to leave him alone.
He really, really liked Roach, and had no idea what to do about it. A few weeks back, he’d semi-decided to leave once the curse was broken, but now even the thought of parting had Zane itching for the blood of any man who set their sights on Roach. If Zane left, and Gale grew up a little, got his shit together, would Roach fall into a relationship with him? After all, they were close, had gone through shit together, even had sexual history, and Roach was a natural protector and fixer.
Heat rose in Zane’s chest and throat until he started coughing again, but that wasn’t distraction enough. The fact that he had no idea what he wanted anymore was like a feral dog clenching its sharp teeth on his arm, set to never let go.
Roach smirked as he set down the repaired kettle and checked if it turned on. “I’ve been feeding Zane lots of cough syrup.”
Gale snorted, getting a bit of color in his cheeks.
Zane shook his head, still fighting the unpleasant tickle in his throat. “And it seems I might need another dose soon.”
Roach was about to say something, but his phone rang, and when he looked at the screen, his face fell. “What’s up?” he asked, picking up the call, and Zane couldn’t help realizing that his attraction to Roach had only increased since they met. Zane wanted to jump Roach’s bones even when he was wearing sweats.
The high-pitched ramble coming from the device sounded awfully familiar. Roach scowled but told Culver he was going to be there. Unbelievable.
“So, let’s order pizza and sweat the illness out?” Zane asked, as if he were assuming the job was for some other day.
Roach licked his lips and got up. “I gotta go do this thing for Culver first. The kettle’s working now, but it’s not gonna last forever. We’ll see about picking up a new one.”
Gale exhaled. “Thanks, Reed. I really appr—“
“What thing?” Zane asked, frowning. “Because unless someone’s toilet exploded into their face, you should really stay in bed.”
Roach ignored Zane and headed for the door after saying his goodbyes to Gale.
He spoke in a hushed voice once they were out. “I don’t want him worrying, he’s got enough on his plate. Doesn’t matter what I should or shouldn’t do, ‘cause we need the money.”
They needed the money, but Roach did most of the work, which once again made shame creep up Zane’s back.
“You deserve to have time off if you feel this bad. Roachie, you work all the time like some medieval peasant.”
Roach put his hands in his pockets, already heading to the back of the motel, where the entrance to Culver's office was located. “Well, I don’t exactly live like a king. It’s okay, Zane, you can rest. I’ll try to be quick.”
“That’s not the point. This guy isn’t treating you fairly,” Zane insisted, speeding up to keep up with Roach’s strides. The bastard was trying to lose him, but that wouldn’t be happening!
“He doesn’t treat anyone fairly. That’s just what life is.” Roach shrugged, only infuriating Zane further.
Zane wanted to say more but Roach had already entered the office after the briefest knock. Culver’s cave was like a space beyond time, where thin panels of wood were still considered a fashionable covering for walls and a random collection of plushies, plastic figurines, and travel memorabilia were adequate decoration.
Culver looked up from above a model car he was putting together. Was this a joke?
“He’s very ill,” Zane said, pushing past Roach to reach the desk first.
“It’s not that bad,” Roach said with a groan, but couldn’t help coughing.
Culver raised his eyebrows at Zane. “See? Not that bad.”