A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for the faves, reviews, alerts!
As always, apologies for the slow updates. My other stories are on hiatus until I finish this so hopefully I'll be getting the chapters out quicker now.
Anyway, on to chapter 14!
Hope ya like!
He has his back to the entrance – hands shoved in his pockets – and he's just… standing in the middle of the produce aisle.
And I'm pissed off at the way my body betrays my mind every fucking time when it comes to him.
Because as much as I don't want to give a fuck that he's here –
My heart does this leap in my chest at the sight of him.
My lungs stop taking in oxygen for about five seconds.
My feet actually stop moving.
Which is why I end up just… standing at the entrance of the supermarket.
Looking at him.
And as much as I want to look away –
It's like I have tunnel vision, like there's nobody and nothing else here, but him.
Which is probably why I don't notice the short, dark-haired girl standing just a few feet away.
Until I hear her voice.
"Ok, so I think this is the one she wants?"
Alice holds up some kind of vegetable. She tilts her head at him, in question.
He shrugs in response. Mumbles something I can't hear.
And it's only when someone bumps into me from behind and mutters, "Sorry" that I finally manage to get my feet moving again.
And even then, they're not moving very fast.
Because it's that awkward moment when you see your ex girlfriend, and her brother, who's the reason she's your 'ex', in the supermarket, and slipping past them unnoticed is pretty much impossible, seeing as they're standing right in the middle of the aisle, and the supermarket isn't that big.
"I think I'm gonna call Mom and ask her what –"
Alice spots me first.
And I don't miss the way her eyes flicker over to him for a split second when she does.
"Jasper…" she says. "Hi."
I'm surprised he doesn't knock over a display considering how fast he turns around.
And then when his green eyes meet mine... it's back to the fucking tunnel vision.
He's wearing black dress pants, a white button up shirt tucked in at his hips, a black tie around his neck.
His hair's as fucked up as always.
He's fucking gorgeous… as always.
There's three seconds of us just… standing there, looking at each other.
Then his hand comes out of his pocket and he fucks up his hair a little more.
And his voice is a low, loaded murmur:
I try to force my eyes away from him and look at Alice, instead, because looking at him is too fucking intense.
Looking at him makes me wanna smile. It makes me wanna reach out and grab him. It makes me wanna fuck up his hair even more by kissing him.
But at the same time,
Looking at him makes me mad. It makes me wanna turn away and ignore him. It makes me wanna fuck up his hair even more by hitting him.
Because he's looking back at me like…
Like he has tunnel vision, too.
Like we haven't had over a week with no communication whatsoever.
Like he's actually... happy to see me – or something.
But, you know, I don't even have the energy to deal with his mindfuck.
So I ignore it.
And I do some low murmuring back:
And then I turn to Alice.
Her answering smile is... tight.
She nods at the list in my hand. "Your Mom sent you?"
It takes a few seconds before I get what she's talking about. "Oh. Uh, yeah, she did."
Alice's tight smile is unwavering – unnatural. "Same here. We've spent, like, ten minutes in the produce aisle trying to find all the vegetables on our list," she tells me. "I mean, half of this stuff isn't even labeled." She holds up the vegetable in her hand again. "Seriously, what the hell is this?"
I manage to crack a smile. "No idea…"
"I know, right? I was just about to –"
"It's a butternut squash," he interrupts. "And, technically, it's not a vegetable."
Alice turns to look at him.
"How comes when I asked you earlier if you knew what it was you said you didn't?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shrug. "I just remembered."
The long stretch of silence that follows isn't a surprise.
I mean, why would it be?
Calling this an 'awkward' moment was too much of an understatement.
It's more like a fucked up on so many levels moment when you're trying to make conversation with the ex girlfriend you cheated on, and her brother – the guy you cheated with – happens to be standing here with you.
And you know what's even more fucked up?
He keeps looking at me.
I mean, I don't even need to look at him to know that he's doing it.
His eyes might as well be green laser beams shooting out of his eye sockets and burning into my flesh.
And the thing is… Alice knows he's doing it too.
"Anyway, I gotta go," I say, when the burning becomes unbearable. "Mom's gonna be home from work soon and she'll probably need the stuff I'm gonna buy to start dinner…"
"Oh, yeah, sure. We should probably hurry too," Alice says – and there's that tight smile again. "Nice seeing ya, Jaz..."
And because my body betrays my mind every fucking time when it comes to him –
My eyes glance over.
And once again meet his – dead on.
There's another three second staring contest.
And he wants to say something to me, I know he does.
The look in his eyes is his tell – problem is, I never know exactly what they tell.
And half the time I never find out, because he doesn't tell me – just like he's not gonna tell me now.
He looks away from me instead. Frowns a little.
And then he mutters:
And, like I said, I don't have the energy to give a shit right now.
I don't bother trying to figure out what it was he was gonna tell me. I don't even bother waiting for a few seconds longer to see if he'll change his mind and decide to say it after all.
I just do some muttering back:
And then I walk away.
But still – if I'm being completely honest with myself – I'm not walking very fast.
I spot him the second I reach the parking lot because, frankly, he's hard to miss.
He's standing there, all white shirt and black tie and black pants, hands in his pockets – as always – leaning back against the trunk of a car –
Against the trunk of my car.
I don't look him in the eye as I approach.
Partly because I don't want to.
Partly because I'm trying to remain nonchalant while my heart starts beating double time.
Mostly because I'm afraid I won't be able to look away if I do...
"What're you doing here?"
He doesn't answer, at first. He moves over to the side when I point my key at the trunk and it pops open. Waits for me to put the two grocery bags down inside.
"I told Alice to go home without me," he says, eventually.
I slam the trunk closed. "Why? She was your ride."
He shrugs. "I can walk."
When I make my way round to the driver side door of my car – he follows.
"Jasper," he says.
"Just... gimme a minute."
I pause, fingers around the door handle. Glance at him over my shoulder. "A minute for what?"
He looks at the ground. Kicks at the asphalt with his polished shoes.
"I couldn't talk to you with Alice there. It was fucking awkward enough."
I don't say anything. Keep a hand on the door.
"I apologized to Garrett."
There's a beat of silence.
He leans back against my car so he's facing me. So he can look at me in the eye. So it's almost impossible for me to not look back.
Somehow, though, I still manage not to.
"In class, last Tuesday," he says. "I apologized to him for the whole... well, you know why."
"Ok. So why are you telling me?"
He half shrugs. "Just wanted you to know."
There's a long pause on my part.
And then I finally give in and look at him.
"I don't get it though. Why'd you freak out like that anyway?"
He takes a deep breath through his nose. Looks away from me, across the lot.
"Number of reasons."
He frowns. "I was already pissed off. Garrett and his big mouth just happened to piss me off even more."
"Pissed off about what?"
He looks at me, his eyes roaming my face.
"The way he kept looking at us, like we were a fucking freak show or something. And then, what, he figures it out and all of a sudden thinks he can give us 'advice'? What the fuck does he know?"
His jaw line hardens.
"See, this is why I don't want anyone to know. They'll say things won't be any different but... but it will. They'll look at me differently. Act different with me. Like I'm a different person or something."
There's a lingering silence between us.
Partly because I don't know what to say to him.
Partly because what he's saying is true – it could happen.
Mostly because I suddenly remember that his best friend knows...
"So what are the other reasons?" I ask him.
"For why you were pissed off that day."
His eyes stop their roaming and focus on mine.
"Maria," he says.
I frown. "What about her?"
"She was all over you."
"What? No she wasn't."
He half smiles – bitterly. "Yes she was."
I shrug. "Well, so what? It's not like I did anything to encourage her."
"You weren't exactly fighting her off, though."
Another shrug. "So what?"
"So... I didn't like it. Like I said, it pissed me off."
"You were jealous, you mean."
His eyes leave mine. He frowns. "Whatever."
I look at him during another long silence. Look at his angular profile as he gazes across the lot. Watch the light wind tousle his hair. Watch as he clenches his teeth in his sharp, stubble-lined jaw.
When he suddenly glances at me from the corner of his eye – I look away.
I nod at his outfit instead. "So… how'd it go?"
He stares at me for a moment before responding.
"Court?" He shrugs. "How I expected it to go. A fine and a suspended license. My dad paid the fine. I gotta get a job to pay him back."
Then: "I'm not going back to Seattle until Sunday." – A sideways glance in my direction – "We could… I don't know, hang out or something during the week… if you want…"
I pretend not to notice when he looks at my mouth. Pretend not to notice that his own lips are parted. That his tongue wets his bottom one a couple of times.
His deep sigh is audible.
"Anyway… I'm gonna go," he murmurs. "I'll…" He trails off when I meet his eyes. Swallows. "I'll call you, or something..."
A nod is all I'm capable of.
He straightens up and starts to walk away –
"You don't have to walk, you know," I call after him. "I can give you a ride."
He shakes his head. Half smiles at me over his shoulder.
"Nah, I'm good," he says. "Later."
He texts me later that night: Are u awake?
Him: What r u doing?
Me: Nothing. In bed.
Me: What r u doing?
Him: Nothing. In bed... Can't sleep.
I don't know how to respond – but he texts me again before I get a chance:
I'm fuckin horny.
And just like that – I am, too.
I text him back: Me too.
He takes a while to respond.
I wanted to kiss u today.
Me: Why didn't u?
Him: We were in the parking lot of the supermarket.
Him: Stupid question.
Me: Alright. But we could have gone in my car. Why didn't u want a ride anyway?
Him: Cos I would have wanted to do a lot more than just kiss u in ur car...
Again, I ask him: Why didn't u...?
But he doesn't answer the question.
In fact, he doesn't text me back again that night.
And I can probably guess why...
So I follow his example.
I jack off again in the shower the next morning.
And when I get out there's a text from him:
Sorry about not responding last night. I sort of passed out...
I text back as I dry off:
It's no biggie. But um... did you pass out before or after you rubbed one out? Lol.
Him: Lol. I plead the Fifth... What r u doing?
Me: Getting ready for school.
Him: Oh yeah. What r u doing after school?
Me: Nothing really.
Him: Ok. Wanna hang out or something?
Him: Cool. I'll call you later.
Rosalie raises her eyebrows at me, expectant.
I frown. Move her out of the way so I can open my locker. "What?"
"What do you mean, what?"
"I wanna know what he said."
"Jeez, would you gimme a second? And it's not like I'm gonna tell out here in the hall anyway."
"Alice told me they saw you at the supermarket."
"And that he told her to go home without him when they were done shopping and he saw your car was still in the parking lot."
I close my locker and start walking down the hall to the front entrance. Rosalie follows.
"So? What did he say to you?" she persists.
I ignore her until we're both sitting in my car.
She rolls her eyes. "Jasper, no one's paying attention to our conversation."
"You don't know that."
"Ok, well, even if someone happens to hear part of our conversation it's not like they're gonna know what we're talking about anyway."
"Whatever. I'm just not comfortable talking about it at school."
"Alright. Whatever." She looks at me sideways. "You know, Edward's not the only one scared of coming out..."
"I'm not scared."
"Sure you aren't. Anyway, what did he say?"
I don't answer her.
Partly because she's pissed me off.
Partly because I'm thinking about what she said, the part about Edward not being the only one scared of coming out.
Mostly because I don't wanna admit – to myself – that she might be right...
"Oh, c'mon, you're mad at me now?" She sighs. "Well, truth hurts, I guess. You know, when I think about it, you and Edward are actually pretty similar. It explains a lot."
"What do you mean?"
"Look, I'm not scared, ok? I'm just... not ready."
We don't say anything else for a long while.
Then I'm the first one to break the silence.
"He said he wanted to tell me he apologized to Garrett."
"That's what he said."
"Wow," she mumbles, more to herself. "Edward Cullen never apologizes to anyone – at least, he never used to..."
Rosalie turns her head to look at me. My face starts to burn when I feel her staring.
"What?" I mutter.
"So, he apologized to Garrett and he wanted you to know."
I shrug. "I guess?"
"I don't know."
She shakes her head.
"Anyway," I continue. "I asked him why he freaked out at the guy in the first place."
"And what'd he say?"
"That he was pissed off at the way Garrett kept looking at us, and the fact that Garrett was tryna give us advice when he figured out we were together. And... he was jealous, too."
"Jealous of who? Garrett?"
I shake my head. "There was a girl there who was kind of flirting with me. Maria."
"So he got jealous because she was flirting with you."
I nod. "And because I let her, he said. But the funny thing is, she was more into him than me anyway. I mean, she was talking about him half the time she was sitting with me."
Rosalie shakes her head again. "You know, I never actually realized it until just now."
I frown a little. "You never realized what?"
She glances at me. Purses her lips in thought.
"He's got it bad for you, Jasper."
When I get home from school I whack off after reading his text again:
Coz I would have wanted to do a lot more than just kiss u in ur car...
I do some homework... and wait for his call.
And then I eat dinner... and wait for his call.
Then I watch a little TV... and wait for his call.
And, you know, for someone who supposedly 'has it bad for me' he sure hides it pretty fucking well.
It's past nine when he finally calls.
I answer: "So what happened to hanging out –?"
"You fucking told Emmett."
His words act like a defibrillator – except I didn't need one, so now my heart feels like it's jumping out of my chest with every accelerated heartbeat.
And I'm literally speechless.
"Answer me." I can tell that he's speaking through his teeth.
"What're you talking –?"
"Cut the bullshit, Jasper. You fucking know what I'm talking about. He tried to tell me it wasn't you who told him, some shit about how he figured it out himself, but Em's a bad liar."
"Alright. But I didn't wanna tell him –"
"Then why the fuck did you?" He doesn't wait for my response. "Jesus, Jasper, I fucking told you I didn't want Emmett to know."
"Rosalie thought it'd be a good idea for –"
"Fuck, Rosalie. I didn't want her to know either. I don't want anyone to fucking know."
It starts to piss me off that he keeps interrupting me.
"Yeah, well maybe you should make up your fucking mind, then," I say. "You can't have it both ways."
He misses a beat.
"Don't invite me for weekends at your school if you don't want anyone to know. Don't fucking stare at me all the time. Don't ask me if I wanna 'hang out' with you after school. Because that's the only way no one's gonna find out. What, you think you can keep doing these things and people aren't gonna start noticing? Think people aren't gonna figure shit out, like Garrett did?"
He doesn't say anything for a long while.
I think he's speechless now.
"Look, I told Emmett because I was fucking worried about you after what happened with Garrett, alright?" I continue. "Rosalie figured we should tell him so if you wanted to talk to someone... then you could talk to him."
He's still not saying anything.
"Edward." My voice is softer now.
Still no answer.
"So he found out you're into guys. So what? Does he give a shit?"
His voice is soft too when he finally answers:
"That's not the point."
"Then what exactly is the point?"
"I told you. He'll look at me differently. Act different. He says he won't but... he fucking will. In fact, he's already doing it."
"Or maybe you just think he is cos you're expecting it."
"I'm not a fucking idiot," he spits.
"You know, so far, you're the only one making this a big deal. I don't get it –"
His laugh is a brief, biting bark that cuts me off mid-sentence.
"Ok," he says. "If it's not a big deal why haven't you told your parents?"
He pauses, as if waiting for an answer.
And when I don't give him one, he continues:
"If it's so fucking easy to be all 'out and proud', why aren't you? If no one's gonna give a shit when they find out, why haven't you come out of the closet already? Why doesn't the whole fucking town know you're gay yet, Jasper?"
Again, his words hit me like a jolt to the chest.
And, again, I'm rendered speechless.
He waits though.
And then, another five seconds later when I still haven't responded – there's that acerbic laugh again.
"Yeah," he says. "That's what I fucking thought."
He hangs up.
You know, I actually come this close to doing it.
I hear Mom sigh as I pass her sitting on the couch, while on my way to the kitchen.
"Jay?" she calls.
I stop but don't turn around. "Yeah, Mom?"
"You are. Turn around and look at me."
I turn around, reluctant.
Don't meet her eyes.
Partly because she's right. I am moping.
Mostly because she can always tell when I'm lying – especially if she's looking into my eyes.
Mom sighs again. "Jasper, I'm getting worried now. If you're unhappy for some reason you need to tell me. How can I help you if I don't know what's wrong?"
I lift my eyes up to meet hers.
And the look on her face – the concern, the confusion – is actually the trigger that makes me wanna do it.
Because Rosalie's right: Edward isn't the only one scared of coming out.
And Edward's right: It is kind of a big deal.
I take a deep breath.
Clear my throat.
And I actually come this close to doing it –
'This' meaning, if my dad hadn't come home from work at the exact moment I opened my mouth, I would have come out to my mom.
After Dad says his 'hellos' and goes upstairs to change – Mom's questioning gaze is back on me.
But the moment's gone, because if I tell Mom now, she won't be able to keep it from Dad.
And I'm not ready to come out to my dad.
So I just say: "I'm ok, Mom. You don't need to be worried about me."
She doesn't buy it.
"What were you about to tell me, Jay?"
"I just told you –"
"No, before your father got home you were gonna tell me something, I know you were."
I don't say anything.
And there's another deep sigh from my mom.
"Do you know how I always know when you're not telling me the truth, Jasper?" she asks.
"Your eyes," she answers, staring into them. "The look in your eyes is your tell. Problem is, I never know exactly what they tell, and half the time I never find out, because you don't tell me. Just like you're not gonna tell me now."
Her words are so familiar it's eerie.
They make me think about what Rosalie said to me the other day:
"You know, when I think about it, you and Edward are actually pretty similar. It explains a lot."
And I finally get what she meant.
It's around ten on Saturday night when I get a call.
I don't recognize the number.
"Hey, Jazz, it's me."
I frown. "Emmett?"
I pause. "Oh. Um, hey. What's up?"
"Edward's not with you, is he?" Although he asks the question in a way that suggests he already knows the answer – his tone is still expectant.
My lingering frown only deepens. "No, he's not. Why –?"
There's silence on the line between us for about three seconds.
And that three seconds is all it takes for the anxiety to set in.
I'm already breathing a little faster as I ask: "What's going on?"
"Some shit went down today and he disappeared. He still hasn't shown up and his parents are getting worried."
I sit up so straight my back isn't even touching the headboard anymore.
"It's his parents' anniversary today so they had a little get-together at their house. Invited my parents and a few other close friends – including Tanya's parents. So she was there, too. Anyway, long story short, Tanya fuckin' outed him. To his parents. To, basically, everyone sitting around the table."
"Yeah. Pushed him out of the fuckin' closet."
I'm on my feet before Emmett finishes his sentence.
"So he just… got up and walked out the door. No one stopped him cos, well, we figured he was just getting some space or air or something. But half an hour later when I went to look for him he wasn't outside."
I pull on a sweater with one hand. Tug my Nikes on over my bare feet.
"And this was, like, five hours ago now. He has his phone with him but he's not answering it. Me and Alice drove around for a while, looking for him, but we didn't see him. So I thought I'd call you, in case he'd shown up at your place."
I grab my keys from my desk. Bolt down the stairs.
"But, yeah, like I said, his parents are worried, so if he shows up call Alice and let her know or something…"
I practically fling open the front door –
"Emmett," I say into the phone. "Tell his parents he's ok."
He spins around at the sound of my voice. Meets my eyes.
"Ok?" Emmett sounds confused. "You know where he is?"
"Yeah," I answer. "He's here."
"I didn't wanna ring the doorbell in case your parents were home. And I tried to call you but… your phone was busy. So I just waited."
He breaks our eye contact. Runs a hand through his hair.
"I dunno why I came here," he murmurs. "I was just walking and… and I ended up here."
"You wanna come inside?"
He shakes his head.
So I shut the front door behind me. Take a step closer to him.
"Emmett told me what happened."
And this is probably a stupid question, but I ask it anyway:
"Are you ok?"
"I'm fucking peachy."
I take another step towards him.
And another –
"Don't." He holds up his palm. Takes a step back.
He starts pacing, the fingers of his right hand seemingly stuck to his hair.
"She wanted me to fuck her," he says. "She came into my room and tried to come on to me, and when I told her to fuck off she got mad."
His pacing grows faster.
"So she started calling me a fag. She said she hadn't believed Alice when Alice had told her I wasn't gay. Said she didn't really wanna fuck me, she was just testing me to see if it was true. So then I got mad. Told her to get the fuck out of my room, or I'd show her dad all the dirty pictures of her I had on my laptop."
He shakes his head.
Mutters to himself: "I should have fucking realized she was up to something when she left so easily."
He doesn't say anything else for a long while. Just carries on like a pendulum on my porch: back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
"So then, later on, we're all sitting around the table cos my mom cooked this huge meal. And her dad says to me:
"No girlfriend, Edward?"
And I'm like, "Not at the moment, sir."
So he shakes his head, and he says: "Tanya's the same way. She's dated a few boys but never had anything serious." And he laughs and says to my parents, "Maybe these two are waiting for each other, eh? I mean, it probably wouldn't work now, seeing as they're both away at different schools. But who knows, Carlisle, maybe one day we could actually be related."
And she goes: "Oh, daddy, that's not gonna happen."
Her dad's like, "Why not?"
And she says: "Because Edward's already with someone."
My parents and her parents look confused.
Emmett and Alice are shooting daggers at her.
I'm fucking pissed off. But, you know, I still didn't think she'd actually do it.
But she continues: "Yeah. Edward's got a boyfriend." And the bitch actually looks at me and fucking smiles when she says: "I met him once, when I came to visit. He's really cute."
And, I swear, the whole table must have been listening in by that point, because everyone went silent. And everyone looked at me."
He stops pacing.
"And the look on their faces…" he whispers. "The look on my dad's face…"
I'm not sure whether his sharp intake of breath is a gasp… or a sob.
"I didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to say. So I just stood up and got the fuck outta there."
I sigh. "Shit. I'm sorry."
His head is bowed so some of his hair hides his face. And I'm a hundred percent sure that the sound he makes now is a sob. "You know what the worst thing about it is?" he asks.
"All my parents' friends know." – Another sob – "And this is fucking Forks. The whole town's probably gonna know about it by Monday."
I take a step towards him again.
And when he backs away and shakes his head, and I catch a glimpse of the glossy film across his green eyes, I know why he doesn't want me to touch him.
"Christ, Edward," I say. "You can cry, alright? I'm not gonna think any less of you if you do."
And then, before he gets a chance to take another step away from me, I take his face in my hands and lift his head up so I can look at him.
He avoids my eyes as a lone tear trickles down his cheek.
And, fuck, I hate it. I hate it so much it makes me wanna cry, too.
So I put my arms around him and I hug him, pulling his body tight against mine.
It's about ten seconds before he hugs me back.
And then we just stand on my porch, holding each other, and you know what I realize?
We've never done it before.
He's silent as he cries.
But I can tell when he stops, because his breathing gets less erratic and starts to even out.
Still, he doesn't pull away from me.
"I can't go home tonight," he whispers into my shoulder.
I nod. "You can stay here."
I watch him from my bed as he wanders around the room, picking up objects, gazing at the drawings on my wall.
He looks at me over his right shoulder. "Do you still draw?"
I nod. "Haven't done it in a while, though."
I shrug. "Just haven't felt like doing it lately."
He turns back to face the drawings.
"You should," he says. "They're good."
He walks around a little more.
"Where're your parents?"
He spins around to look at me.
"What? I thought they weren't home."
"It's ok. They won't even know you're here."
He grimaces but doesn't say anything else.
Does some more wandering.
"Are you gonna walk around my room all night?"
He doesn't answer me.
I know why he's doing it though.
He's doing it because he's embarrassed again, embarrassed that he cried.
I sigh. "Well, I'm gonna get changed and go to sleep now so…"
I stand up and start getting undressed: taking off my Nikes, pulling my sweater off over my head, undoing the belt around my jeans and –
He's watching me.
I don't even need to look at him to know that he's doing it.
His eyes might as well be green laser beams shooting out of his eye sockets and burning into my flesh…
The air in the room suddenly feels too warm.
And, then, when I look at him, and our eyes meet…
The space at the front of my boxers suddenly feels too tight.
"What?" My voice comes out too low.
He shakes his head. "Nothing." Clears his throat. "I, uh, I guess I should probably get changed too…"
But he doesn't.
He still stands there – staring at me.
And I stand there – holding my jeans up over my hard on – and stare right back.
His green eyes drop down to my groin. His eyelids follow.
"Take them off," he says.
I let my jeans drop. Step out of them, so I'm just standing in my boxers –
"Fuck," I hear him murmur.
And then he's walking towards me.
And he's backing me up against the wall.
And he's pushing his hard on into mine.
When he kisses me he lets out a groan so deep I can feel it in his chest.
Then I feel him all over me:
I feel his mouth on my mouth and on my cheeks and on my neck. I feel his tongue stroking my tongue and brushing my lips and wetting my skin. I feel his hands on my face and in my hair and roaming my body…
And yet… it's like it's not enough. Like, no matter how much of him is all over me, I still need… more.
So I grab his shirt in my fists. Pull him over to the bed. Push him back on top of the covers.
He's breathing fast as he stares up at me, eyelids low and slow, red lips parted.
"What're you doing?" he asks, his voice rough.
I'm panting too, as I reply, "I wanna try something…"
I don't remember getting naked.
I don't remember him getting naked.
I don't really remember my own name right now.
All I can concentrate on is the feel of it – of him. And the taste of him. And the sounds he's making around me.
But it's fucking difficult. It's difficult for my mouth to keep a steady rhythm on his cock, difficult for my tongue to keep stroking his head, difficult for my fingers to keep playing with his balls –
When he's doing the same things to me, simultaneously.
I feel his lips sucking on the skin around my balls at the same moment he thrusts into my mouth.
I lower my mouth all the way down to the base of his cock at the same moment he swirls his tongue in the slit at my head.
And we're both groaning.
And his fingers are digging into my ass cheeks just as hard as mine are digging into his thighs.
And his hips are shoving into my mouth just as hard as mine are shoving into his.
And then, when I'm coming hard and I feel the veins in my cock, pulsing against his tongue –
I feel his doing the same to mine a minute later.
It's past two a.m. when we're both done in the bathroom and finally get into my bed.
We lie on our backs in silence. Stare up at the ceiling in the dark.
After a while he whispers: "How'd you think your parents would react if they found out?"
I'm quiet for a moment as I think about it.
"My mom would probably be ok with it," I whisper back. "I don't know about my dad."
He takes a deep breath. "Same here."
"I'm sorry they had to find out like that."
I feel him shrug. "You were right, though. People would have started to notice sooner or later."
"Still, it was a fucked up thing for her to do."
He doesn't say anything.
And we're both silent again for about five minutes.
"Can I ask you something?" I ask him.
"Why do you always ask me to look at you?"
It takes about half a minute before he answers.
"Because… it makes it easier for me to figure out what you're thinking."
"But I always tell you what I'm thinking."
He shakes his head. "No you don't."
Rosalie's words echo in my mind again: "You know, when I think about it, you and Edward are actually pretty similar. It explains a lot."
"Ok," I say. "But you don't either."
We don't say anything else for a long time.
And then he turns over on his side – facing away from me.
He mumbles: "I'm about to pass out so..."
"Alright." I pause before I add on: "Goodnight."
He hums in response.
And then his breathing starts to slow down and even out.
I look at him for a while – look at his back, actually.
And, honestly, I'm disappointed that he turned away. I'm disappointed that, just a few hours ago, he cried on my shoulder for fifteen minutes, disappointed that we sixty-nined just twenty minutes ago… but yet he still feels weird about spooning.
I turn on my side too, facing away from him –
But you know what suddenly hits me?
He doesn't have to be the big spoon…
I roll over again, on to my other side, move closer to him, put an arm around his waist –
I feel his body flinch the second I touch him.
Hear his even breathing suddenly stop.
See his shoulder tense up.
And he stays so still I'm not even sure he's breathing.
I don't move either.
I keep my arm around him, keep my body curved around his, wait for his reaction...
And count the seconds:
He takes my hand.
His thumb strokes the back of it in lazy circles.
He laces his fingers in between mine…
And we fall asleep like that.