Chapter 13
Thirteen
Angelo
My thumbs hesitate on the screen of my phone.
I want to see Thomas again, but that’s the last thing I should be focused on.
It’s the last day of school before break, and I don’t know Thomas’s custody schedule.
Maybe I should have thought about that before fooling around with a dad. Fuck it. I send the message.
Me: You free tonight?
My phone chimes with a response in less than a minute.
Thomas: You’re in luck. What did you have in mind?
I’m on my prep period, and I should probably be using it to get through some grading, but instead, I’m texting Thomas.
Me: A night in? We could get takeout and watch a movie.
Thomas: Sounds good. Your place or mine?
The question trips me up, and I don’t know why I wasn’t expecting it. Meeting at his place seems like crossing a line. Hooking up there, even if Eric is gone, feels wrong. And maybe I wouldn’t feel this way if he weren’t my student, but he is.
Me: Mine? I’m at work right now, but I can grab some food on the way home. Does around six sound good?
Thomas: Works for me. Should I bring anything?
Me: Only if you want to.
The rest of the school drags on in only the way it can just before break.
All the students are amped up and rowdy, making me eager for it to just be over already.
Still, I have a bit of a migraine but the time the bell rings.
That’s when it occurs to me that I never asked Thomas what kind of food I should get.
Me: Any food preferences or anything I should avoid?
Thomas: No mushrooms. Other than that, I’m good.
Me: Chinese?
Thomas sends back a thumbs-up emoji. There’s a restaurant not far from school.
It’s one of my go-tos for quick takeout on my way home.
They have great orange chicken. I don’t know what Thomas likes, so I place an order for a little of each of my favorites.
I spend more than I probably should, but it’s fine. There’ll be leftovers for later.
When I get home with the food, there’s still time to kill before Thomas shows up.
Which is good because after working all day, I need to freshen up.
I fill Mr. Whiskers’ bowl with kibble and then make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower.
As I’m stripping off my clothes, my dick perks up at the thought of seeing Thomas again.
It’s tempting to touch myself and take the edge off, but I’m hoping that Thomas will be up for messing around.
I grab a pair of jeans and a T-shirt to throw on, and that’s when I hear the doorbell. Mr. Whiskers raises his head from where he’s lying on the couch and lets out a meow. I ignore him and open the door. Thomas greets me by sliding his hand to cup my cheek and pulling me in for a kiss.
“How was your day?” he asks when we break apart.
“Better now that you’re here. God, the day before break is always such a joke. It’s not like any of the kids pay enough attention to actually learn anything.”
Thomas bites his lip, holding back a chuckle. “Looking forward to the break at least?”
“It’ll just be nice to catch up on some grading and lesson prep. It’s not like I get to just not work the whole time. What about you? Any big plans for the holidays?”
We take a step away from the door, and Thomas pulls off his jacket.
“It’s still different doing holidays after being divorced.
Before Crystal was home and could be there for Eric during the break, which was great.
Now it’s split custody, and it’s not like I can take a week off of my work to hang out with Eric.
I just feel bad about the whole thing because I want to spend time with him. ”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
A silence falls, and I realize maybe I don’t know how to do this. It all feels too ‘coupley’. Part of me wants to ask what Thomas does for a job, but I don’t want to pry either. It’s really none of my business.
“So, uh, movies. I’ve got a few streaming apps we can look through,” I try to change the topic without it coming out too awkwardly.
“Sounds good.”
A meow breaks the tension as Mr. Whiskers winds his way through our legs to rub up on Thomas. “Who is this?” he asks as he kneels down to pet Mr. Whiskers’ head.
“Sorry, this pushy guy is Mr. Whiskers.”
“Hi Mr. Whiskers, you’re such a pretty boy,” Thomas croons as he scratches behind my cat’s ears. My heart is beating faster. What is it that makes it so hot that he likes my cat? Thomas scoops up Mr. Whiskers, holding him like a baby as my cat purrs. Damn, that looks so fucking sweet.
“Are you hungry? I didn’t know what you liked, so I bought a bit of everything.
” I gesture to the food on the table, and Thomas looks over at the stack of takeout boxes before placing my cat on the floor again.
Mr. Whiskers follows us to the table as Thomas opens the containers to see what’s inside.
“You weren’t kidding,” he says with a laugh. “Well, it looks great.”
I grab us a couple of plates and silverware, and once our plates are loaded, we make our way to the couch. Thomas sits close enough that our legs are brushing together, and it’s stealing my focus. “Here,” I hand him the remote. “You wanna pick something to watch?”
Thomas scrolls through the streaming apps, looking at movies until he settles on a rom-com about a couple of friends getting drunk-married in Vegas. “This work?” he asks.
“Sure,” I agree. To be fair, there’s probably not much I wouldn’t agree to right now.
I’m not watching the movie. My attention is focused on Thomas.
I’m forcing each bite down as I count down the minutes until it’s appropriate to pin him to the couch and strip his clothes off.
Even the different flavors of the food can’t keep my attention.
I might as well be eating plain oatmeal.
Then he rests his hand on my thigh. I thought I was distracted before, but now my mind has totally shut down.
It’s filled with one track of thought. My plate is half-empty, but I can’t make myself take another bite.
Thomas turns to look at me, and when his eyes meet mine, I can tell he’s as far gone as I am.
He sets his plate on the coffee table before grabbing mine from my lap.
That’s when he kisses me.