8. Oz
CHAPTER EIGHT
OZ
The light on Oz’s desk blinked, and he looked up at the doorway to find Cassie—the school counselor—hovering in his doorway. She offered him a hesitant smile, which was weird because he liked to think he was a welcoming guy. He was the new one, so yeah, maybe people were unsure about him, but he wasn’t a dick.
Or if he had been, he hadn’t realized it. He tried not to be shitty to the hearing staff at the school, and Cassie was a CODA, so her signing was even better than his, considering it had been her first language.
‘Come in,’ he said, gesturing her past the threshold.
She didn’t move. ‘I have a student who wanted to speak with you. She’s having some trouble adjusting.’ She used the sign for talk, which was his cue to dig his processor box out of the desk and switch them on. ‘Her name is Tai.’
Normally, he hated being asked to take time away from grading papers, but he didn’t feel that way when it came to the kids. He remembered what it felt like, being a total fish out of water the first time he set foot in an ASL class. His hearing devices were big and obvious. Everyone expected him to already know everything. To be some kind of expert.
And his first professor hadn’t been understanding the way he’d expected him to be. He was harder on Oz than anyone else and later told him it was for his own good. Maybe it was, but it had sent Oz into a panicked spiral, and he hadn’t gone back for ASL 102 until his junior year—and he was even more behind then.
He had a different teacher that time though. A patient one who understood his journey because he’d come from a hearing family too. That’s when Oz learned to breathe, and that’s also when he decided he knew what kind of teacher he wanted to be when he went for his teaching certification.
‘Is she in my class?’
‘She will be. Her ASL skills are very beginner. She’s going to have an interpreter with her.’
Oz wasn’t unused to the presence of interpreters in his classes. He had a handful of students who were either still learning or were Deafblind. He’d long since adjusted his teaching style to make sure everyone was following along.
But he was curious why this brand-new student he’d never met wanted to speak with him. Not that he was going to turn her down.
Cassie stepped aside after Oz nodded a second time, and the young girl shuffled in. She was very short, with very long dark hair, and she was wearing a thick sweater that hung past her fingers. He could see the lights on her CIs blinking in her hair, which reminded him to put his own on.
It took a second for him to adjust, and by the time he was ready to speak, Cassie was gone, and the door was left open barely a crack.
“Hey, Tai,” he said.
She blinked. “Oh. You have an accent.” She didn’t. Not really—at least, none that he could pick up. “Sorry. That was rude.”
He couldn’t help a small laugh. “Hey, Deaf blunt. We tend to say what’s on our mind, and I’ve learned to be less offended by the truth. I have an accent because I struggled to hear with my CIs when I was little. The technology wasn’t as advanced as it is today.”
“Oh. Um. I don’t know what to say to that,” she confessed.
Oz couldn’t help a small laugh. “You’re fine. But hey, is there something specific I can help you with?” He really didn’t mind that she was there. It took the edge off the stress he felt during his downtime. Teaching was distracting, but the moment he was alone at his desk, all the chaos from the weekend started creeping in.
And so did the humiliation from not only kissing Ridge but dragging him into his family drama. Ridge didn’t seem to mind. He’d put up a fight when Oz offered to come clean, and his reasons all made sense. But when Oz was alone in his place and stuck reliving what had happened over and over again, he felt a little like throwing himself into the sun.
He’d banned himself from looking at his phone or his non-work emails to avoid the inevitable tidal wave of bullshit that was coming his way. His phone was on silent, but he had a feeling when he looked, he was going to have a novel’s worth of messages and calls from his mom and sister.
“I went to two classes today,” Tai said. “I’ve been here for a month taking ASL.” Her fingers twitched the way his used to when he was following his professor’s advice to fingerspell literally everything when he was alone so he got used to processing whole words like reading rather than naming the letters in his head. “Today, they let me sit in on the art class, and…I was lost. I was really lost. Even with my interpreter, my brain won’t go that fast, and sometimes I feel like leaving my old school was a big mistake.”
“Do you sign at home with your family?”
She pinked. “Um. Not really, no. I pretty much just speak at home.”
Oz cocked his head to the side. “Can I ask why you decided to change schools, then? I was mainstreamed for all of my schooling. My parents were deeply, deeply anti-ASL so we never used it at home. I was more used to mainstream school, so by the time I realized Deaf education was an option, I didn’t bother asking to go.”
That was simplifying it way too much, but Oz wasn’t about to burden this poor kid with his own childhood trauma.
Her face fell, and he knew then that was the tender spot. “They didn’t actually want me to come here.”
“Okay. So you advocated for yourself?”
She shrugged. “I guess? My IEP team held basically an intervention last year when I was getting Ds in all my classes. They told my parents that if they really wanted me to thrive, I needed to be at a Deaf school. And begged because I really want to go to Gallaudet after I graduate.”
He smiled. “You’re not alone. But you know you don’t have to be fluent to attend there, right?”
She bit her lip and nodded. “But I don’t want to feel like I do now when I’m surrounded by really, really smart, fluent college kids. If I have to look like a moron, isn’t it better to do it while I’m still young?”
He laughed and shrugged. “I guess that’s one way of looking at it, sure. And I suppose you do get more one-on-one time here. Plus, you’ll still learn through immersion in your classes.” He put his chin on his hand, elbow propped against the edge of his desk. “So…do you mind me asking what you’re worried about?”
“I’m scared I’m going to flunk out if I don’t figure out how to get better at ASL. I mean, I still have no idea what’s going on in class and I feel like I’ve been here forever.”
Oz smiled softly. “First of all, your teachers here aren’t going to let you fall behind because you were denied early access to your natural language. They’ll be patient and work with you. That’s kind of our whole thing. Secondly, two months feels like a long time, but it’s not. Two months from now, you’re going to forget what it was like to struggle this much. That’s how it happened for me—only it took me longer because partway through my first semester of ASL, I gave up and quit. It’s my one regret when I started my Deaf journey.”
Tai let out a small breath. “So you really do get it.”
Oz grinned. “Yeah. I really do.”
She smiled for the first time and tugged on the ends of her hair. “I asked Miss Cassie if there were any teachers who grew up like me, and she told me you’d understand.”
“I do.” More than he wanted to admit. It felt like a lifetime between the man he was now and the man who wasn’t sure he was ever going to learn enough to consider himself Deaf, but those scars were still tender. “I do teach my class in ASL, and I don’t wear these”—he tapped his left processor—“but I will always make sure you’re not behind. And you’re allowed to make mistakes here.”
“They’ll be mean about it though, won’t they?” she asked, her voice so small he had to read her lips. “The other kids?”
He sighed. “Maybe some of them. Forgive my language, but people can be assholes no matter where you are. There will always be people who think you’re too much or not enough. The only thing you can control is how deep you let those people get under your skin. And there are other students like you, Tai. There are students who have been here a year and are still trying to make it because their parents are standing in the way of their language acquisition at home.”
“Why do parents do that? I don’t understand,” she said, her face drawn and almost afraid.
He sighed and shook his head. “Fear, maybe? Embarrassment? I promise I’ll let you know if I ever figure out the answer to that question.”
“So your parents still don’t use it?”
“No, and they try to forbid me from using it at their house. Our relationship is—” He was going to say strained because that’s what it had been, but that word was all wrong now. It was more than just strained, but he wasn’t about to drop that bullshit bomb on a teenager. “It’s always going to be a little complicated with people who don’t understand what our life is like.”
She let out a breath and glanced away. “So, it doesn’t get better.”
“Sometimes it does. Sometimes love is enough for people to get their heads out of their asses and realize what you actually need. Pardon my language.”
She giggled, covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers before grinning at him. “I think I might like your class.”
“I hope you do. This is my first year teaching, so I’m still trying to be the cool guy.”
She laughed again before standing up. She hesitated, then put her fingers to her chin. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome,’ he signed back, mouthing along. ‘You’ll be okay. True-biz.’
She looked hesitant for a beat, then nodded and turned, leaving without saying goodbye. It was a very teenager thing to do, and he didn’t mind. He was still young enough to remember what it was like when all of his anxiety and fear manifested in anger and the need to completely isolate from everyone and everything.
His parents called him disrespectful. His teachers labeled him a problem child.
Really, he was lost, and it would be years later before he was found.
Oz was finally brave enough to look at his phone when he parked in his usual spot a few feet away from his walkway. He thumbed through all the messages his mom sent and a few that his sister had. He had two from Grady, but both of them were asking if he was okay.
The last one startled him the most. It had come through right before Oz had pulled into his condo complex.
Ridge: Can I see you tonight?
Oz: I just got off work. Is there something wrong?
Ridge: Not wrong. I’m clocking out right now. I promise I won’t take up too much of your time.
Oz: I owe you. You can have a whole evening if you need it.
Fuck, was that flirting? No, that wasn’t flirting.
Was it?
He’d been out of the game for so long, and he’d never been brave enough to flirt with a man before, so…shit. He had no idea. But that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that he didn’t know if he wanted to.
He liked Ridge. A lot. The man had starred in several of his one-handed late-night fantasies. But he’d never given it much thought beyond that. Only now he knew what Ridge tasted like. What he felt like pressed all up against him. He knew the rumble of his soft moan under his fingers and the way he leaned in like kissing Oz meant everything.
Even when it didn’t because there was no way it had.
He swallowed thickly and looked back down at his phone screen.
Ridge: You’re sweet. How about I bring some food over and we can chat. Ina’s at a playdate with Briar and they’re doing a whole Chuck E Cheese thing.
Say no. Say no. Say no.
Oz: Sounds good.
Fuck .
Oz: Come over whenever. I’m going to hop in the shower but I’ll leave the door unlocked.
Ridge: See you soon.
Throwing his phone into his bag so he wasn’t tempted into any more dipshittery, Oz grabbed the rest of his things and headed inside. He had a handful of papers to grade and some parent emails to return, plus two IEP student surveys he needed to finish before the end of the week. But nothing was pressing.
Nothing would be ruined if he took a night to himself to enjoy a little peace and stillness. Or maybe to enjoy the company. At the very least, he wouldn’t mind exploring this tentative friendship with Ridge. He’d been fooling himself into thinking it was better to keep his distance from him.
He preferred his social circle to be people within his own community, but he couldn’t help liking the guy. More than just wanting to climb him like a tree and see if Ridge’s dick felt any different in his hand than his own. Ridge was genuinely kind, and that was a hard find these days.
The only thing he didn’t want was to think about his family or what they’d done.
Or what he did.
He didn’t want to think about the fact that he was going to have to look into Ridge’s face and pretend like it had all been an accident. Which it was, but he wasn’t ready to admit how much he’d liked it. Or how much he wanted to do it again.
He shoved all those thoughts aside, made sure his front door was unlocked like he promised, then headed into the bedroom to strip down. He tossed the case and processors on the nightstand, then moved to the bathroom.
The thing he loved most about his condo was the tankless water heater. In less than a minute, he was under a heavy, hot stream, letting it beat down on his back muscles in a sorry attempt to get them to unknot before he was tense again.
He needed a massage.
Or maybe a Xanax.
Or even a good orgasm might do it. He was tempted to take his dick in his hand now. He was already half-hard remembering the kiss and the way Ridge had felt all pressed up against him. Before that moment, he’d only ever been able to imagine what it would be like to touch another man that way.
It was everything and nothing like his fantasies. Ridge had been so…so real . He was tall and muscular and warm and hard and somehow also so damned soft. His five-o’clock shadow had scratched over Oz’s jaw, and the sensation had been fucking delicious.
Oz had been avoiding thinking about it at all since he’d left his parents’, and he’d been pretty successful at it too. But now, it was too late. He couldn’t let it go.
He held his breath as he gripped his cock and began to stroke, terrified of making a sound in case Ridge came in. His hand flew fast, his grip hard, not slick enough the way he liked, but he was already so fucking close a stiff breeze would have sent him over the edge.
He bit the inside of his cheek as his balls began to tighten, and the warmth that rushed up his spine made his vision white out. He did his best not to lock his knees as he let go, and he mouthed Ridge’s name—hoping to God he hadn’t actually said it aloud.
Come splattered against the wall, and he gasped at the aftershocks, his dick twitching against his palm. He stroked himself twice more as he began to soften, and then he released himself. He felt something strange—not quite shame, because he wasn’t ashamed of who he wanted or what he’d done. But it felt all wrong because he’d taken something from Ridge that didn’t belong to him.
Even if he was willing now, Oz had backed him into a corner, and that wasn’t how he wanted any relationship to go. Even a fake one.
Shoving his face in the water, he let the spray momentarily blind him before groping around for his shampoo and washing up. He gave himself two minutes to finish up, and then he got out and dried off, snagging a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from the top of his laundry basket that didn’t smell too funky.
He ran his fingers through his hair as he swished a bit of mouthwash—a sad, sorry little spark of hope flaring to life in his chest that he might need it. That Ridge might want to kiss him again for some wild reason.
He spit into the sink, then finally found the courage to head out and see if he was still alone.
Which he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t.
Ridge was hovering in his bedroom doorway with a frown. He looked upset.
‘What’s wrong?’ Oz asked. Fuck, had he heard what Oz had been doing? The kiss was one thing, but jerking off to the memory of it was something else entirely.
‘I didn’t know your mom and sister were going to be here.’
Oz’s entire body went cold and all steamy thoughts of his shower fizzled to nothing. “What?” he demanded aloud.
Ridge jutted his chin toward the hallway. ‘They were in your living room when I walked in. Your mom screamed at me for letting myself in without knocking.’
Oz rolled his eyes. He was torn between relief that the issue was his mom and not what he’d been doing and anger over the fact that she thought it was okay to show up and let herself in after everything she’d done.
He marched to the nightstand and snagged his processors, but before he could put them on, Ridge caught his hand.
‘I know I’m not fast or totally fluent, but I can interpret for you if you want to leave them off. This is your house.’
It was his house, and normally he had a voice-off rule, but he was done playing games with her. He was going to make sure that his mother understood him. He would give her zero room to act like she didn’t know what he meant when he said that he was done with her bullshit.
‘It’s fine,’ he said, gently prying his arm out of Ridge’s grasp. ‘I want to speak to her.’
Ridge let him go, but he didn’t step back. His eyes searched Oz’s face, his own filled with concern. ‘I’ve got your back.’
If Oz had been a crying man, he might have burst into tears right then. How long had it been since anyone took his side? How long had it been since he let someone take his side?
He nodded. ‘Thank you.’
He took a minute to adjust to the return of sound after putting his processors back on. The first thing he noticed was the A/C. The second was Ridge’s breathing, which sounded heavier than usual.
He cleared his throat, then sighed. “Please know you can leave at any time.”
Ridge snorted and signed, ‘I brought Greek food, and I’m starving. I’m not going anywhere.’
Oz laughed softly and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He could feel Ridge at his back as he made his way into his living room, and there was no pretend about the expression on his face. He allowed his mom and sister to see every ounce of anger there.
Alora looked taken aback. His mom looked entirely unbothered.
“This isn’t funny anymore, Osric,” she said flatly. “Enough games. Send your friend home so we can have a real conversation.”
He laughed bitterly. “Well we agree one thing: none of this is funny at all. You’re a grown woman, and you don’t have a key. How did you get into my house?” He knew the answer, of course. She’d taken advantage of the offer he’d extended to Ridge.
“It was open.”
“You mean instead of knocking, you turned the handle and then let yourself in without permission?”
“When it’s my son’s house, yes,” she snapped.
“I don’t think that shit would hold up in court if I call the cops and say my house was broken into.” Oz folded his arms over his chest and squeezed tightly to help combat his rising anxiety.
His mom made a sound like a dying chicken. “How dare you speak to me that way. I am your mother.”
He almost laughed. “Really? How dare you think that just because you’re my mother you can waltz into my own home without permission. Or that you can try to corner me into proposing to a woman who is my ex for a damn good reason.”
Alora laughed and stood up from the chair. “What’s the reason? Being beautiful? Perfect? A good career?”
“She doesn’t speak my language,” Oz said.
“Yes she does. She speaks English and?—”
‘That isn’t my language,’ he signed, and he heard Ridge snort behind him. He took a breath and switched back to speech. “I no longer give two fucks whether or not you two learn ASL. You made it clear where your priorities lie, and I refuse to waste any more of my time trying to change your mind. But you don’t get to dictate who I spend the rest of my life with. This is not the sixteen-hundreds and arranged marriages are not a thing. And you sure as shit don’t get to humiliate me in front of my boyfriend by acting like a couple of narcissists.” His mother paled at the word ‘boyfriend’.
“Is that something your therapist said about us?” Alora asked with a sneer. “That we’re narcissists?”
“My therapist didn’t have to. I figured that one out on my own.” He backed up until he felt himself touch Ridge’s chest, and he let out a small, relieved breath when Ridge’s warm hand closed around his hip. He was a ballast, and Oz was safe in his arms.
“You can’t be deaf and gay,” his mother said after her gaze zeroed in on Ridge touching him. “I forbid it.”
Oz laughed. He couldn’t help it. He sagged backward into Ridge’s arms and let himself be held upright by his strong grip. “I’m bisexual, not gay.”
His mom clenched her jaw. “I understand you’re trying to upset me with this…whatever you’re doing. This act you’re putting on, but?—”
Oz turned to Ridge, his heart in his throat, and Ridge met his gaze. He gave a nod—barely there, but Oz picked up on it, and he leaned in. Ridge’s eyes closed, and he reached out with one hand, cradling Oz’s jaw as tenderly as he’d touched him that first time.
Oz braced himself, took a breath, then let himself be kissed. This time, there was no hesitation in Ridge’s body. There was no surprise, no caution, no tension. He wasn’t off his guard. This time, he was putting on the performance his mother had accused him of.
And it was fucking glorious.
Oz’s toes curled against his carpet, a sound escaping his chest he didn’t recognize, and he parted his lips as the tip of Ridge’s tongue touched his. Fuck. Fuck. He needed to remember they were not alone. This wasn’t real.
His mother and sister were watching.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” his mother said loudly as Oz broke the kiss.
Ridge looked a little dazed, and he licked his lips, staring down into Oz’s eyes. For a moment, it felt like the world was standing still. Then, his mom cleared her throat loudly, and Ridge snapped out of it. He looked past Oz at her, then smirked and leaned in, taking one more swift kiss before letting Oz go.
His face burned where Ridge’s lips had been touching him, and he fought the urge to press his fingers to that spot as he turned to face the two women in his life making everything a thousand times harder than it needed to be.
“Can we be done here?”
“ You are not gay ,” she hissed.
“Yes, we established that I’m bisexual—something I can’t help. Just like I can’t help being Deaf. It is who I am, and whether you like it or not, I don’t have a choice in either of those things. But as I said before, I don’t care what you want for me. My life isn’t about you. So, you can either leave on your own, or I can make you.”
“You’re going to make us leave?” Alora asked with a disbelieving laugh.
Oz felt Ridge lean over his shoulder. “If he doesn’t, I will. I have many friends I can call who will happily drive over here and not only make sure you get the fuck out but also make sure you don’t come back. They do this a lot when people refuse to accept when they’re not wanted.”
Alora paled. “Is that a threat?”
“Sure is, darlin’. Oh, and I had a nice conversation with Grady this afternoon too. How are things at home, by the way?”
“What’s he talking about?” Oz’s mom demanded.
Alora’s skin looked almost green. “You stay the fuck out of my marriage.”
“Sure. So long as you stay the fuck out of Oz’s house. Deal?”
She looked over at her mom, then back at Oz. “This isn’t over.”
“Oh, it is. And next time you try to ambush me, you won’t like what happens,” Oz told her.
There was a tense moment where both his mom and his sister looked like they were going to fight him. And then, it was over. They turned, and a second later, he felt the vibrations of his front door slamming shut.
Oz sagged back, and Ridge caught him again, holding most of his weight as he guided him to the couch. He sat, feeling boneless and exhausted, but he was grateful that Ridge didn’t pull away. Instead, the bigger man settled himself right beside Oz and took his hand, holding it gently between both of his own.
God, how was his hand so warm and so soft, considering what he did for a living?
“They must have showed up right after I got home,” Oz murmured after a beat. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I bet they were waiting in the parking lot. I was only in the shower for a couple of minutes.”
“Mm. No more than five,” Ridge said.
Oz felt his cheeks pink. “How long were you waiting for me?”
“Not long,” Ridge said. Something in his face was careful. Too careful. Oh God, he knew.
Oz swallowed back all of his questions. Right now, he didn’t want to confirm it. He needed a moment to process. Was Ridge going to call him out on it? He wasn’t sure what he would say. A lie sounded nice right about now. But…so did the truth.
“Hey.”
Oz looked up, and Ridge lifted his hand, brushing it behind Oz’s left processor.
‘Off?’
Right. He could do that now. He was safe to do that now. ‘Yes.’
‘Me?’
He was asking to— oh . Oz was usually weird about people touching them. When he and Darcy first met, she was weirdly obsessed with pulling them off and putting them back on.
Then there had been the first morning, he’d woken up with his head roaring with sound because she’d slipped them on while he was still asleep, and it had damn near given him a heart attack.
She laughed her ass off and refused to apologize, even after he’d been knocked down with a migraine because of it. But the difference here was that Ridge was asking for permission. And Oz didn’t think he’d get upset if he said no.
He felt nervous, for some reason. Antsy. Edgy. ‘No, thank you. I like to do it myself.’
Oz was immediately proven right. Ridge didn’t get mad. He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. ‘I’ll get food. You get comfortable.’
Oz made a noise as Ridge stood up, stopping him. ‘Lock the door first. Use the dead bolt and the chain.’
Ridge repeated the words, fingerspelling them slowly, then wiggled his first finger to show he was asking if that was right.
Oz nodded his head and his fist as he used his left hand to pull his CIs off. ‘Yes, please.’
Ridge winked, too fucking charming for Oz to be able to handle right then, and he turned to head for the door. The moment he was out of the room, Oz tossed his processors on the table, then sank back into silence.
He felt at home for the first time in a while. Safe. Relaxed. He was still trying to shake off the last of the stress his mother and sister caused, but he had a feeling they wouldn’t be back. Not tonight. They’d test his boundaries because that’s what they did best, but for a little while, he could count on peace.
He didn’t move again until he felt the couch jostle with Ridge’s weight, and he rolled his head to the side, cracking one eye open.
‘Hungry?’ Ridge asked.
He wasn’t. At all. But he also couldn’t let himself be impolite. Ridge had gone out of his way to bring him food, and he’d once again pulled him out of the fire with a kiss that made Oz want to abandon everything he thought he knew about himself and spend his days worshiping the man’s body.
Which was a ridiculous thing to fantasize about. Really. It was.
He cleared his throat, then held out his hands, and Ridge passed over a paper plate heavy with pita, chicken, rice, and hummus.
‘Sorry,’ Ridge signed after he set his food on his thighs, ‘I didn’t know what you liked, so I went for simple.’
‘Simple is exactly what I need tonight. My stomach doesn’t feel great.’
Ridge shot him a look of sympathy. ‘I wish I could help more than just kissing you.’
‘I think the kissing worked great,’ Oz couldn’t help but tell him, and then he grabbed the pita and the plate to shut his hands up because, goddamn it, he didn’t need to give himself away like that.
Ridge’s shoulders shook with a laugh. ‘It was nice.’
Did he mean that? Oz was too afraid to ask. Instead, he shoveled a huge bite into his mouth, then swiped his hands on his sweats before asking, ‘What’s going on with Grady and Alora?’
Ridge mouthed the names as Oz spelled them, and his shoulder slumped. ‘I came here tonight to tell you that Grady is on your side. I know you don’t trust him, but I think he means it.’
‘He doesn’t stand up to her,’ Oz argued. When Ridge frowned, Oz repeated himself, mouthing the words until he was sure Ridge got it. ‘He lets her do and say whatever she wants.’
‘I know. That’s something you’ll have to work out with him, but I think he’s being sincere. He’s a good guy.’
Oz wanted to argue, but he knew that was true. Deep down, Grady was the only thing good about his sister anymore. She wasn’t always like that, but he had no idea what changed. It couldn’t have been Darcy, and he didn’t think her fear of having a deaf child was really that intense.
It had to be something else.
The truth was, he didn’t want to believe that she was like their mom—head so far up her own ass that no one else mattered except herself. He and Alora had been friends once. She’d been something like an ally when they were kids, and damn it, he thought he’d get to keep that as they grew up. But maybe she had never been that person and he’d just refused to see it all this time.
It was a hard pill to swallow, admitting that someone was unkind just because. But it was time he admitted it. Enough was enough.
His throat felt tight, and he swallowed thickly. ‘Tell him I’ll send him a text. Is he okay?’
Ridge made the face he always did when he snort-laughed. ‘They’re sleeping in separate rooms. Alora asked him to pretend like everything was okay so no one would find out they were fighting.’
Oz didn’t know what to think about that. He wanted to forget this mess was happening. He wasn’t hungry anymore. The few bites he’d taken were sitting like a stone at the pit of his stomach.
He set his plate on the coffee table, then turned to Ridge. ‘Sorry.’
Ridge frowned, and then his brows shot up when he realized what Oz was apologizing for. ‘Don’t. It’s fine. It tastes better the next day anyway.’ He set his plate next to Oz’s and settled back, turning to mirror Oz’s position. He bit his lip and let go a few times, and Oz could tell he was working through something.
So he waited.
And he waited.
‘You like me, right?’
Oz blinked. His chest burned with a flush that crept up his neck, into his cheeks, ending at the tips of his ears. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t play COY,’ Ridge signed as best he could.
Oz glanced away for a beat, but he was too exhausted to lie. And he cared too much about Ridge too. ‘Would it bother you if I do?’
‘No.’ Ridge dropped his hands, then lifted them again. ‘Do you want to date me?’
‘No!’ The hurt look on Ridge’s face pierced Oz in the chest. ‘I don’t mean it like that. It’s not you,’ Oz started.
‘I know that one,’ Ridge said. ‘It’s not you, it’s me?’
Oz lunged forward and grabbed Ridge’s hands, then cleared his throat to speak aloud. He rarely did this without his processors on, but Ridge deserved to hear this in his own language. “It really is me. I’m a mess right now. I just admitted that I was bisexual out loud for the first time, and the one guy I kissed was this gorgeous man at my niece’s birthday party after my mom tried to bully me into proposing to my ex. If that’s not fucked-up, I don’t know what is.”
Ridge burst into laughter. Oz swore he could feel the rumble of it coursing under his skin. ‘You think I’m gorgeous?’ he asked when he took his hand away.
Oz rolled his eyes. ‘That’s what you fixate on?’
Ridge grinned and shrugged one shoulder. He looked roguish and playful, and God, Oz wanted him even more. ‘It’s not the worst way I’ve learned someone was into me.’
‘Tell me.’
Ridge went red in the cheeks, making his faint freckles stand out. ‘That’s a story for another night.’ Oz ignored his rush of disappointment as Ridge took a deep breath. ‘You know this doesn’t all have to be fake, right?’
Oz blinked at him.
‘We don’t have to date. We don’t have to be boyfriends. Your life is complicated, and so is mine. But we can have fun while we’re in this…if you want to.’
Oz felt something hot and tingling crawling up his spine. ‘Have fun?’
Ridge leaned in. ‘We don’t always have to kiss for show. We can kiss because it feels good.’
Oz swallowed heavily.
‘And we can do other things.’
“Other things,” Oz whispered aloud.
Ridge nodded. ‘Not tonight. It’s been a lot. Too much.’
‘Yeah,’ Oz couldn’t help but say. It had been. As much as he wanted Ridge—and fuck did he want him—there was no way he could relax enough to have the kind of fun Ridge was talking about. And if he was going to do this—if he was going to agree to hook up with the hottest man he had ever known—he wanted to be fully in.
He wanted to be present and enthusiastic. He wanted to remember every second of it with joy and passion. Not on the heels of his mother, once again, making him feel like shit.
So yeah, what Ridge was saying was suddenly the only thing Oz wanted. ‘Yes.’
Ridge looked a little surprised. ‘You sure?’
‘Very. I…’ His finger hovered at his chest. Then, he lifted his hand and tapped his temple with all four of them. ‘I know you heard me in the bathroom.’
Ridge looked only a little ashamed. ‘I didn’t mean to. You were loud.’
That’s what Oz had been afraid of. But he supposed if anyone was going to overhear, better him than Oz’s family. ‘I was thinking about you.’
Ridge grinned softly. ‘I know.’ He lifted his free hand and traced fingers along Oz’s jaw, then over his lips. ‘You said my name.’ Oz chased the touch with his tongue, licking away the tingles Ridge’s warmth left behind. ‘When can I see you again?’
‘When do you have a free night?’
Ridge’s brow furrowed, and then he said, ‘Every Monday. Lane takes Ina and Briar out once a week, and I don’t pick her up until eight. And every other Saturday, she has a sleepover with Rex. I sometimes work on those nights though.’
‘Fit me in where you can,’ Oz said. He had no right to ask for more. They weren’t real boyfriends, after all. He was setting that boundary because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be careful, and Ridge deserved better than that.
Ridge lifted his hips and wriggled his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through what Oz assumed was his calendar, and then he smiled. ‘Ina and Rex have a school event this Sunday. Frey is taking them to the zoo after. I’m off work at eleven in the morning.’
‘I don’t work Sundays,’ Oz said.
Ridge set his phone down, then cupped Oz’s cheek again. ‘Sunday?’ he mouthed.
Oz nodded, then whispered, “Kiss me?”
Ridge met his gaze, then leaned in, and he did.