Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
ROMAN
Ido a very good job at keeping my shit together after Jesse leaves the kitchen.
In fact, I do such a good job that no one would be able to tell I finish putting everything away while replaying over and over the moment Jesse chuckled at me. How his smile made his blue eyes shine with that teasing playfulness he used to have all the time.
All because of his snacks.
Because, of course they’re for him. Everything is for him.
And the way he looked at my tattoos, as if he wished he could touch them.
How he said that he liked them and that he was happy for me in that small voice that reached inside me and twisted my heart, the urge to wrap him in my arms and keep him there until all traces of sadness were erased from his smile, stronger than ever.
I pause after I’m done, listening to Jesse moving around upstairs, knowing he’s somewhere in the house.
How ironic that a few days ago I wanted to be done with this house as fast as possible and wash my hands off it for good, and now leaving seems unthinkable.
But it makes sense. He’s always been capable of rewriting everything bad, every bitter memory, every hollow moment. At least, until I no longer let him.
The day flies and it’s because of him, and the craziest thing is that we’re not even in the same room most of the time.
Jesse is upstairs making a small racket, talking on the phone, or listening to music, and I’m on the couch working on my tablet, finalizing several tattoo design ideas for this week’s booked clients, but it still feels like I’m carrying a small glimmer of sunshine inside me.
Around noon, he comes down and our eyes meet, his lips tipping into a small smile before he heads to the kitchen.
And damn if that smile doesn’t make me lightheaded enough to be grateful I’m sitting my ass down.
Fuck, this is ridiculous.
I try to focus harder on what I’m doing, and eventually I do, focusing so hard in fact, that I don’t realize my stomach has been eating itself from the inside for what feels like quite some time.
My steps falter when I glance at the counter, and the plate already sitting there.
A plate with a sandwich, cut in half, waiting for me.
Something tightens in my gut and it has nothing to do with hunger.
No. It’s longing so fierce, so sudden, it almost sends me to my knees.
It’s an ache for something I lost and desperately want back.
It’s warmth I haven’t felt since I was eighteen and I was kissing a golden-haired boy in my room.
It messes with my head until my mind feels all over the place.
I have no idea how I manage to eat the food he left for me when I can barely swallow past the lump in my throat, but I do. Because there’s no way I’m letting something he made for me go to waste.
And when it’s time for dinner later, I pretend I don’t hear the small sound of surprise he lets out when he sees the pasta-salad I left there for him, or the sigh that travels all the way to me when he eats the first bite.
Just like I pretend I’m not starving for the sight of him eating my food when I simply glance over and see that he’s already watching me with those piercing, serious blue eyes that steal my fucking breath away.
By the time twilight morphs into full-on darkness, I feel like I’m ready to call it a day and pass the fuck out. Though I’ve no idea how that’s going to happen when I’m both wrung out and on edge.
I get up, leaving the tablet on the coffee table and thinking about whether a hot shower would help, when I hear movement from the stairs.
And fucking freeze when my eyes find Jesse.
In gray sweat-shorts that barely cover his ass, and a sky-blue crop top T-shirt that leaves the smooth skin of his tight midriff exposed, pulling his hair up in a ponytail and humming to himself like he didn’t just short-circuit my brain.
I drink him in like this, every perfect inch of him, feeling the blood boil in my veins.
He fiddles with his phone, his back turned towards me, and I don’t realize I’m moving until I’m inches from him, so close I’d be nuzzling his nape if I lowered my head.
“Jesse?”
He doesn’t jump from how close I am, and when he turns around, there isn’t a hint of surprise in his expression.
He just blinks up at me innocently. Too fucking innocently. Like the little demon in disguise he’s always been.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
Fuck, my voice has gone too low, too deep, and even though his expression remains the same, I can see the way his pulse is hammering on his pale throat.
I bet that spot would throb even harder if I sucked on it.
He shrugs casually, but swallows before he answers when my eyes travel over his whole body—from his running shoes and high socks that reach him mid-shin, to the whisps of hair that are too short for his ponytail.
“I’m going running,” he says in a raspy voice that betrays how affected he actually is.
I hum, acknowledging his words, watching transfixed as the hem of his crop top grazes his skin every time his breathing changes, my fingers tingling with the need to run them just below that hem.
“It helps me sleep.”
There is an imperceptible tremble in his voice when he speaks, and when our eyes meet and lock, they are fucking liquid.
“Is that right?”
He nods, slowly, never moving away, never stepping back.
“And for how long have you been doing it?”
“Years.”
“And it works?”
“Most times.”
I nod, unable to look away from him, the air thrumming between us in the semi-lit living room.
“Alright. Let’s go then.”
His eyes widen at my words, his mouth parting in a sharp inhale, and it takes everything not to smile at his obvious surprise.
“What?”
Fuck, is that a small blush on his cheeks?
“You’re not running alone this late at night, Jesse.”
His gaze is stormy as it pierces me, and for a minute, I think he’s going to tell me to fuck off, but his lips curl into a smile that turns my blood cold and makes my dick hard.
Because it’s a smile that promises retribution.
“Okay. If you think you can keep up.”
He makes me burn.
“I think I’ll be fine.”
His blue eyes are sparkling as he turns and heads towards the door.
“We’ll see.”
And a few minutes in, I get why Jesse smiled like that.
Because he’s a fucking beast.
It only takes him a few minutes of warming up, before his pace picks up and he’s eating up the distance from the house to the end of our street in long strides that would have had me in trouble in seconds if my stamina wasn’t as good.
I keep just a few feet behind him, letting him have his space so I don’t disrupt his rhythm, but that makes it impossible for me to focus on what I’m supposed to be doing, my eyes helplessly drawn to his tight shoulders and bare lower back, to his full ass and strong legs, to his ponytail whipping the air.
It’s a miracle I haven’t smacked into some random lamppost.
Eventually, Jesse slows down to a jog, and then to an easy walk when we’re almost back at the house.
The night is damn perfect for running, I’ll give him that. Warm but not too hot, and so quiet it feels like we’re the only two people awake.
“Oh, there you are,” he says, voice breathless and raspy when I catch up to him. “I thought I lost you somewhere back there.”
The teasing glint in the look he shoots me makes my heart beat faster than any hard-as-fuck run ever could.
“Nah,” I shrug, unlocking the front door and stepping aside to let him in first, unable to tear my eyes away from the flush that bleeds down his neck, “the view was just better.”
His head snaps my way and his eyes are alive with the same fire that’s always burned in those blue depths.
My breathing hasn’t gone back to normal yet, and it only gets worse when Jesse turns to face me, stepping so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
“You like me like this?” he whispers in the dark entrance, the moonlight slipping in from the large windows more than enough to see him perfectly.
“I haven’t been able to form one single, coherent thought since you stepped off those stairs,” I confess to him, feeling my restraint frail every second I’m near him, my head dropping low, close enough to almost smell his hair.
He looks up at me, letting me see everything—how pleased he is with what I just admitted, how much I deserve to be tortured for what I did.
How, even though he’s so hurt, he still wants me looking only at him.
As if I could look at anyone else.
“You like it, don’t you?” I mutter hoarsely, watching the way his pulse jumps and he lets out a soft, shaky exhale.
“That all I can think about is how gorgeous you are, that I’m ready to beg you to let me put my mouth on your fluttering pulse to see if it tastes as good as I remember, to suck on that drop of sweat sliding down your neck right now? ”
Jesse’s chest rises and falls in shallow movements, his eyes fixed on mine, and when he licks his lips, I have to suppress a groan.
“Would you?” he murmurs, and I swear I feel that question in my soul. “Beg?”
“Yes.” In a heartbeat.
Jesse watches me for a long moment, before he nods and lifts up on his toes to whisper in my ear.
“Good.”
The word sends a full-body shiver through me, and when he takes one step back, and then another, and another, before he gives me a playful, little smirk and leaves me there, staring after him, I know that it’s not a question of if, but of when.
Because even though I don’t deserve it, or him, even though everything I’ve always been told about myself is rooted deep, I know I will be begging him soon for anything he’s willing to give me.
The sound of the upstairs shower manages to pierce through whatever fog I’m in, and when the events of the day come all rushing back, I can’t help but let out a quiet laugh.
What a fucking day.
My body aches like a motherfucker, my mind is shot to shit, I’m laughing alone like a deranged person in the middle of an empty living room, and somehow all I care about is this small, tiny speck of excitement burning in the middle of my sternum knowing that Jesse is upstairs right now, taking a shower, getting ready for sleep.
Knowing that tomorrow, I’ll wake up and he’ll be here.
A low groan escapes me when I try to stretch, and if I was tired before, it’s nothing compared to what I am now.
But it was fucking worth it.
Damn, even the couch looks like the fluffiest of clouds in this moment.
Deciding to shower in the morning since there’s no guarantee I won’t fall asleep in there, I head upstairs to grab a clean sheet from my old room.
The door is already open, and it’s probably a testament to how fucking exhausted I must be that I don’t immediately notice it.
But it is, and I’m sure I’m not the one who left it open since I never come here unless it’s necessary, and even then, I always make sure I close it afterwards.
I frown, my eyes straying towards the bathroom and Jesse.
Did he do it?
Glancing inside again, I see that the window is also open, the curtain moving lazily in the night breeze, and my chest tightens.
I sleep on the couch for a reason, and it’s not because it’s more comfortable.
It’s because this isn’t my room anymore. It stopped being my room the first time Jesse slept here with me, the first time we spent a whole afternoon here with him studying and me drawing with metal ballads playing. The first time I kissed him and he was finally mine.
It’s not my room anymore, but ours, and there was no way I could bring myself to sleep here. Not without him.
I swallow thickly.
Why did he do it?
Was he just looking for something and simply left it like this?
Or—
Is it possible that he wants me up here?
The bathroom door cracks open and Jesse emerges in sleep shorts and a T-shirt, surrounded by hot steam.
His gaze locks with mine, before flicking briefly towards the room next to me and back to me.
His cheeks are pink, which could very well be the result of the hot shower, but there’s no mistaking the shy, and a little sheepish smile that tips his lips and makes my heart beat like crazy.
He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then closes it, biting his bottom lip, and all the while I stare at him like he’s going to divulge the secrets of the universe.
But he turns towards his own room with a soft ‘Goodnight, Roman,’ and a warmth in his eyes I thought I’d never see from him again, and somehow he doesn’t need to say anything else.
I don’t know why he did it, but when I lie in the bed we used to share a bit later, I realize it doesn’t matter.
All it matters is that he did it.
And because of that, it’s the first time in five years that I sleep through the whole night.