Chapter 5 DIEGO #3
Okay, no. Maybe I was thinking way too much into this, because I was tired and cranky as fuck and seeing someone I genuinely disliked was setting me off.
I took a deep breath. “Coming up.” And turned to make a whiskey sour with bottom tier Four Roses, just like he always drank. My butt vibrated with a text from Stevie on the door:
Stevie
Drake’s in tonight. Wasn’t sure if I should tell him to f off. LMK if you want him out.
I gave it a little heart react, because Stevie was so fucking sweet. But no. I had this. It was 11:45. Taran would be here in 15, and then I was the fuck out of here.
I brought Drake his drink and asked, “Wanna open a tab?”
“Sure.” He reached for his wallet. “When are you off tonight?”
“I have a ride home,” I said without missing a beat.
His gaze flicked back up to meet mine. He smiled wolfishly.
Did he think I was playing his stupid fucking game? Bitch had another thing coming.
He held out his AmEx, and I snapped it up and went back to the register.
Then I gave it to Bryn to return and went to the other end of the bar to take care of some loaded frat boys.
They kept me busy for the next few minutes, so I didn’t even realize it was midnight until I saw Taran poke his head through the front door.
He looked around, eyebrows high, mouth slightly open.
Then he seemed to take a deep breath and slipped inside, weaving his towards me.
I ducked out from behind the bar and threw my arms around him. He picked me up a little, like he’d forgotten where we were, and then set me back down fast, chuckling. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I patted his face, which was nice and stubbly, just how I liked it. “I am so glad to see you.”
“Ready to go?”
I’d thought I might ask him to hang out and have a drink if things calmed down, but with Drake in the building, hell no. Hopefully he saw me throw myself at Taran; the kind of man who thought no was just a game could still respect another man’s territory, right? Fucking creep.
Hot creep. But creep.
“So ready.”
I introduced Taran to Stevie on the way out, so he’d know to always let him in, and we started back toward my apartment together.
I slumped, suddenly wishing I’d asked him to drive the six blocks and pick me up instead.
God, I’d suggested we go to my favorite club tonight, just to test the waters—how would he be in a largely queer space with my entirely queer friends?
I was so not up for dancing, though. Fuck.
Taran watched me light a cigarette, and then asked, “You want to just Door Dash something and watch a movie? Looks like that was crazy in there.”
I grabbed his hand in my free one. “That is the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He chuckled. “I’m always good with a change in plans. For the record.”
I smiled and admired him in the moonlight, then the streetlamp as we walked into its glow.
“What?” he asked when he noticed me watching him instead of the sidewalk.
“Thanks. For being sweet.”
“No gold star for not being a dick.” He laughed again, silently but shaking his shoulders. “I admit I’d be sad if you said you didn’t want to hang out at all, but we can be low-key.”
“You can,” I said with a snort. “How was work?”
“Fine. Actually—we’re doing a thing in a few weeks, at this venue inside PNC Park. Pirates game. They told us all to bring plus ones.” He glanced at me then away again, smiling almost shyly.
My whole body flushed with warmth, not from the humid night, but from inside me. It happened sometimes when I noticed something cute about him, just this rush of sensation, like a dam breaking somewhere near my heart.
He’d never been shy in high school. Hell, he still wasn’t. Except every damn time he asked me out in person over the last three weeks.
“Is that your way of saying you want some arm candy for the event?” I asked, squeezing his hand.
“It is,” he confirmed with another chuckle. He let go of my hand and put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in close. The smell of him was intoxicating, especially now it was hot enough that there was a little sweat in it. I wanted to shove my whole face into his armpit and just stay there.
“Text me the date and I’ll make sure to get it off,” I said instead. No need to make it weird. Yet.
I felt him sigh in response.
The warmth was still there, but that little guilty thing itched at the back of my brain again. “Tare, when have I ever said no to you?” I asked.
“Well, baseball isn’t exciting. Even if the Pirates are decent this year.”
“Pierogi races,” I pointed out. Nobody went for the game; it was all about the four pierogi-shaped mascots that tottered around the bases after the fifth inning. Everyone knew that.
“Right. Yeah, of course. Pierogi races.” He grinned, deploying that dimple that made me want to lick him.
He ordered food, since I was too tired to make up my mind, and once we got to my place, I cleaned up a little and threw myself onto the couch next to him.
Mmm, he really did smell good tonight, and he was so warm through his soft, thin t-shirt.
I ran my hand up his thigh appreciatively and turned my face up for a kiss.
He obliged, then said into my lips, “What about that Hitchcock movie you were talking about?”
“I’m too tired for Hitchcock,” I murmured, brushing my lips against his. He always felt so damn good. Had he felt this good when we were kids? No, he’d definitely acquired daddy vibes in the years since. “Do you wanna fuck?”
He pulled back slightly to look me in the eye, still grinning. “You’re too tired for Hitchcock but not too tired to fuck?”
I laughed because, okay, fair. “Mmm, I didn’t say it’d be a good fuck.”
“Just relax tonight,” he replied, bumping my forehead with his. “We’ll watch something easy and—”
The doorbell rang, and I made to get up for it. He put a hand on my shoulder to stop me and got up instead. “I got it. Put your feet up.”
Amused, I watched him walk around the couch and to the front door. Shortcake jumped up on the couch beside me, so I gave her some pets and whispered sweet nothings about how she was the most perfect bitch princess ever.
Taran got the food, thanked the delivery person, and then started parceling out kebabs, mujaddara, and grape leaves.
When he returned, carrying plates for us both, Shortcake didn’t even run off, like usual.
She sat there, eying him over my lap like she was trying to decide if she should hiss at him or curl up on him.
Same, girl. Same.
“Oh my god, she’s still here,” he whispered in an awestruck voice.
I accepted my plate from him. “Don’t look at her directly.”
“Why, what happens if I do?”
“She’ll definitely leave. Or just steal your soul. Either way, I wouldn’t.”
“Heard.” He chuckled and settled beside me, fork already buried in the rice. “God, this smells good.”
It really did. I hadn’t even realized I was hungry until I had the plate in front of me. I started shoveling it in as fast as I could, flipping through my streaming services to try and find something to put on as background noise.
“How’s your dad?” Taran asked after a few minutes of stuffing his own face.
“Cantankerous as ever.” I snorted. Dad would’ve killed for a son like Taran back in the day—kind of funny he didn’t have anything to say about me dating him. Heh. “Kelly figured it out about us, by the way, and of course she told everyone.”
“Guess I should have that talk with Mom.”
I frowned, already trying to catastrophize in my head: He’s doing it again. He’s not telling anyone. God, I annoyed the fuck out of myself sometimes. “I thought she knew?”
“She knows we’re dating, but I’ve been putting off the ‘I’ve been queer the whole time’ talk. It’d be unfair to send her into mahjong unarmed.”
That made me laugh. Annie would have a field day if he did. “God forbid one of them have more tea than the other.”
“Exactly. Shit, I forgot the beer. Want one?” He was up again of a sudden.
“Thanks,” around a mouthful of lamb kebab.
“They had fun in Hawaii?” he asked on his way to the fridge.
“Seems like it. Kelly said it weirded her out a little, like the social aspect of it with the people who actually lived there vs. the tourists.”
“Huh. Where’d they go?”
“Uh, I don’t remember. Kauai? That’s an island, right? And Maui for sure. Lots of pictures of a volcano.”
“Yeah, it took out a lot of Maui a few years ago.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but my own yawn interrupted me.
“Damn, dude.” He handed me an open pilsner. “You okay? I mean, the family didn’t wear you out before work, did they?”
“It was just a long day. And my ex showed up tonight, like right before you came in to save me.”
“No shit?” His smile went a little crooked. “And you’re not friendly, I’m guessing?”
“We are not. It’s the silver fox I mentioned before.”
“Control issues?”
“Yep.”
“Did he bother you?”
“He tried it, but I shut him down. Being busy helped.”
“Kinda wish you’d pointed him out to me.” Taran chewed thoughtfully on a stuffed grape leaf.
“Why; you gonna beat him up for me, lover boy?” I chuckled. “But seriously, I hope he saw you. And me throwing myself at you.”
“See, now I really wish I’d known. I woulda played it up. Wait, stop, can we watch Schitt’s Creek?”
I stopped scrolling on it and hit the play button. “Gay.”
“So gay,” he agreed cheerfully.
When we finished eating, he took my plate and put away the leftovers, refusing to let me help.
I was so groggy by then, I just curled up under a blanket.
When he came back, I leaned on his shoulder, and he put his arm around me and pulled me in close.
Shortcake nestled into the blanket by my hip, and every time Taran laughed, I felt it in his chest, and it was really, really nice.
***
I started awake, wondering why the fuck my face was wet. As I wiped it off and registered where I was (on my couch in front of my tv, which was silently playing Schitt’s Creek), and with whom (my cat on one side, Taran on the other, a big old wet spot on his chest).
“Fuck…” I pushed myself off of him. “Am I drooling?”
“Yep.” He blinked slowly, eyelashes heavy behind his glasses. “You’re exhausted.”
“Fuck, Taran, I’m sorry.” I scooted to the edge of the couch, earning an evil look from Shortcake. “Gross.”
He just chuckled. “I like your drool.”
“Not on your shirt. What time is it?”
“Threeish.”
“Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. It’s Saturday.”
“Oh. Yeah, right.” I looked around, expecting to see a mess—but no, he’d already cleaned up after us, hadn’t he? Just a few beer bottles. I stood to scoop them up.
He grabbed my hand. “Go to bed. I’ll clean up.”
I swallowed hard. Looked at him sitting there all pretty and eager on my couch. And I heard myself ask, “You wanna stay?”
He smiled, then nodded.
As I tripped into the bathroom, I heard him humming as he cleaned up the bottles, and my heart just about burst through my chest like a baby alien.
I splashed some water on my face, deciding to skip the whole routine because he was right.
I was totally exhausted. But I still needed to brush my teeth or I’d regret everything.
“Fuck,” I whispered to my reflection when I finished. “He’s really likable. Really goddamn likable. Fuck.”
Which was good. But it was also bad. Really bad, because getting any deeper would mean I’d have to go back and actually cope with all my damage from when he’d broken my fucking heart the first time.
Didn’t take a fucking psychologist to know that no matter how sweet he was, no matter how much I liked him, we were doomed if we didn’t deal with that shit.
We crawled into bed in our underwear, and Taran rolled over to face me once he was under the covers.
I reached out for him, and he came closer, curling into my side and resting his head in that little dip between my tit and my shoulder.
I put an arm around him and traced little patterns on his back with my fingertips.
He put his hand on my belly, fingers spread wide.
Fuck, this was good. No wonder I hadn’t wanted to ask him to stay—I had to know it’d feel like this, and that I’d like it, and that I’d want more.
Like that night right before graduation, when we’d lain like this under the stars and talked about the future, and I’d known, I’d fucking known I was in love with his dumb ass.
“You wanna fuck or something?” I offered. And then winced.
He snorted and patted my belly. “Go to sleep, you maniac.”
I smiled. And if he said anything else, I didn’t hear it. I was gone.