Page 8 of King of Hollywood

Besides, the lack of conversation hadn’t actually mattered, if I was being honest. Because Felix had shown his true colors that day, and though they’d been painfully orange, ever since he’d stood beside me when no one else had—I…well, perhaps I’d decided that even though I didn’t like him—because I didn’t like anyone—that Felix was the kind of man who needed looking after.

He was confident in a way most people never were. Like now. The way he was looking at me, the way he’d invited me into his home without care. That was something I never would’ve done. My home was my safe space. Everything was exactly where it should be. It didn’t smell like other people, and they didn’t track their dirt, their pet’s fur, or their problems inside it.

Felix moved like he knew exactly what his body looked like when he did so—all effortless grace, like a dancer. He spoke fluidly, the cadence of his voice like spun gold.

Felix was confident.

But he was brittle too.

I may not have been good with people, but I’d always made a habit of observing. Especially those that were vulnerable, as that was an integral part of my yearly murder ritual. Felix looked exactly like the kind of man I’d try to defend.

Somehow…he’d managed to wheedle his way to the side of my heart that was reserved for people I would not kill, even under duress. There weren’t many people there, so the fact that someone who was practically a stranger had managed to climb over what I’d thought was an impenetrable wall, was…alarming, to say the least.

And that was before I’d caught him with a dead body of his own.

Felix somehow managed to get more and more interesting with every day that passed.

Maybe that was why I’d bolted across the street to help when I’d seen him attempting to get the corpse inside his garage. He’d looked frightened, and panicked. Even from as far away as my kitchen window I’d been able to see that he was shaking as he lugged the corpse through his jungle of a yard. When he’d paused, glancing both ways down the street to make sure no one was watching, my fate had been sealed.

Because he was an amateur.

An amateur who needed me. Because he’d been kind to me when I needed an ally. Because my mother had raised me to be the kind of man who recognized a good person when I saw them. The kind of man who helped those that needed it, even if I’d never been good with people.

Felix had been lucky I was the only neighbor close enough to see his amateur attempt at disposing of the body. We lived in a cul-de-sac, but thankfully, at the end of it. Separated from our other neighbors by a tiny little park meant for toddlers and dogs—and other creatures without fully developed frontal lobes.

He was lucky he hadn’t been caught, despite the distance between our homes and theirs. We certainly weren’t alone, after all. And our neighbors may be what society deemed “nice” (questionable—I’m looking at you, Barry the bitch). But even nice neighbors would certainly notice a small, floppy-hatted young man yeeting dead bodies across their lawns.

“Are you okay?” Felix asked, because I’d been silent too long, probably.

I hated that. Getting stuck in my own head. It didn’t happen often anymore. Apparently Felix brought out my weaknesses as much as he benefited from my strengths—literally.

“Yes,” I replied curtly, focusing on the present. Focusing on the tilt of his jaw, the light in his eyes, and the fact that he looked surprisingly well-rested for a man that had just graduated with a degree in manslaughter. “Where am I needed?”

“Oh, right.” Felix blinked, still groggy. “Um.” He bit his lip. I tried not to stare, and failed. His lips were chapped. They looked painful. I can fix that. Without thinking, I pulled a chapstick out of my front pocket. Popping the cap off, I slid into Felix’s space without a second thought. When I grabbed his face, my palm nearly enveloped it entirely.

He’s so small.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had that thought.

It certainly wouldn’t be the last.

As he was…quite small.

Almost offensively so.

Felix’s size was not new, but the little thrill that curled in my belly when I looked at him was.

“Hold still,” I commanded.

His skin was buttery soft beneath the pads of my fingers. The prickle of stubble rubbed the base of my palm as I forced his head back to a more helpful angle. His eyes were wide, his lashes fluttering. I could count them, I was so close. Sliding my other thumb across the tip of the cherry chapstick, I then brought it to his lips, gently swiping across them to spread it evenly.

All the while, Felix stared at me.

He’s always staring at me.

So very quiet. Far more quiet than I’d ever seen him. His usual useless chatter was notably missing. He was so still, I wasn’t certain he was even breathing at all.

The softness of his cool, petal-pink lower lip kissed my fingertip as I pulled that hand away. Heat curled in my belly, uncomfortable and unfamiliar as I tried to forget the peek I’d gotten of those pearly, sharp little teeth. Sucking in a fortifying breath, I recapped the chapstick, and ignored the fact that my skin was tingling where I still gripped his fragile face.