Chapter 24
Trevor
I decide to enact my plan early so Isaac doesn’t get suspicious.
Step one is something small. A single poppy I bought from a florist near campus, the bright red color reminding me of Isaac. I set it on our table in the library, along with a note labeled “Red,” knowing he stops here in between his classes on Tuesdays.
I don’t wait around, but Isaac’s text arrives not long after.
Red: I refuse to find you charming.
Red: Thanks, Bruiser.
Step two is dinner with my uncle later that night.
Isaac arrives with a smile and a flush, a bottle of red wine in his hand that he unceremoniously thrusts in front of my face.
“I remembered this time. Here. We’re not going to talk about the flower.
It was sweet, and I put it in water, and I swear to God my cheeks are red because it’s cold outside. So just…zip it, all right?”
“All right,” I answer around a chuckle, taking the wine so Isaac can remove his jacket.
“Is that Isaac?” my uncle calls.
Emboldened by his previous visit, Isaac snatches the wine back and heads toward the kitchen. I follow with a grin on my face.
We cook stuffed peppers tonight, one of my personal favorites.
Isaac does his best to help prepare the filling, but it’s clear he still feels uncertain in the kitchen, going slow even while shredding cheese.
His smile is wide, though, as my uncle chats his ear off, making sure to include plenty of embarrassing stories from my childhood.
I don’t mind much.
After dinner, Isaac joins me downstairs.
He sits atop a tattoo chair, legs swinging as I go through my usual cleaning routine.
He catches me up on simple things, everyday things, like the sandwich he ate for lunch—turkey on rye—and the argument Todd and Lumi had about whether orange is more similar to brown or red.
It’s so perfect I ache with it.
It doesn’t take me long to finish disinfecting. Once my hands are washed, I step close to Isaac. He parts his legs, making room for me, his fingers snagging my belt loops.
“Do you want to stay tonight?” I ask, not expecting him to say yes but wanting to offer all the same. I brush his nose with my own.
“I didn’t bring any of my stuff,” he says, not quite an answer.
“Up to you. You can use my toothpaste and a pair of my sweats if you want.”
“I’d have to get up pretty early to swing home before going to the library.”
Another non-answer that has my lips twitching. “Or you could study here tomorrow morning.”
His eyebrows pop up, as if he hadn’t considered that. “I don’t have my school supplies.”
“Isaac… Would you want to run home now, get what you need, and spend the night?”
He’s quiet for a minute, his fingers twisting in my belt loops. “Can I still have your sweats?”
My smile is immediate. “Yeah. We’ll just roll the pant legs up a few dozen times.”
He swats my chest. “I’m not that much shorter than you.”
“You are, but I like it, better-than-average—”
Isaac slaps a hand over my mouth. “Finish that sentence, and I’m not coming back here tonight.”
I chuckle, stepping back so Isaac can climb off the chair.
“You’re such a sassy shit,” he mumbles, heading with me out of the tattoo shop. “And no one even knows it.”
“Guess you’re just lucky,” I joke.
His expression turns serious, his voice so low I’m not sure I’m meant to hear. “I think I am.”
Isaac walks ahead of me up the stairs, leaving me feeling warm and nearly weightless in his wake. After grabbing his keys, he heads out.
I find my uncle in the living room, his eyebrow popping up. “Not even a goodbye?”
“He’s coming back,” I tell him, trying not to feel too satisfied by that. It’s not a huge deal. I’ve slept at Isaac’s before.
But this is new. Which makes it feel important.
My uncle hums. “Guess you’ll have a reason to use the new espresso maker that mysteriously showed up the other day. You know anything about that?”
“You’re not as cute as you think you are,” I inform him.
His laughter follows me down the hall.
Before Isaac returns, I set to work on step three of my plan. I wish I’d thought to grab some nice paper for this, but all I have is lined paper from a spiral-bound notebook. It’ll have to do.
I write out what I need to before carefully tearing the paper into strips.
Isaac’s knock comes fifteen minutes later. I let him in, taking his backpack as he toes off his shoes. He looks a little nervous, like he’s not sure how to act with my uncle in the apartment.
“My room?” I offer.
He nods gratefully.
We retreat there, and I shut the door. Isaac makes himself comfortable on my bed, looking around with fresh eyes. The one time he was in here, he didn’t have long to take everything in. He seems to do so now.
I leave him to it, heading to my dresser to find a pair of sweats he can borrow. Picking out a pair, I slip one of the pieces of paper into the pocket before tossing the sweats his way. “They have a drawstring waist.”
Isaac doesn’t take the comment as me being a sassy shit. We both know he’s considerably slimmer than I am. He leans back to shimmy out of his jeans, tugging the sweats on afterward. The smile on his face as his hand runs over the fabric has my heart beating heavily inside my chest.
“Thanks,” he says. “They’re really soft.”
I nod in a jerk, setting his backpack near the bed. “The bathroom is right across the hall.”
He ties the drawstring tight before dropping his feet to the floor. We both look down at the fabric pooling around his ankles.
I bite my lip hard as Isaac hastily rolls the hems, like perhaps if he does it fast enough I won’t notice.
“Not a word,” he warns as the silence stretches.
I zip my lips.
Isaac lets out a profound sigh, but his smile lingers as he grabs his toiletries bag and exits the room. While he’s getting ready for sleep, I change and plug my phone in. I double-check my alarm before dropping onto the bed, my back against the wall.
The bathroom door opens a minute later, the telltale squeak of the hinges audible. I’m not surprised when Isaac comes back into the room with the piece of paper held in his hand.
“What is this?” he asks, showing me the paper.
I don’t need to be close enough to read it. I know exactly what it says.
Out of the endless people I’ve met.
“No clue,” I lie.
Isaac raises an eyebrow, clearly calling bullshit on that. He examines it again. “Where’s the rest?”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”
He presses his lips together. He’s obviously figured out it’s the start to a poem. “Fine. Keep your secrets,” he mutters, shoving the paper back in his pocket. “I can be patient.”
“Can you?”
That earns me Isaac’s fingers digging into my side. I twist, dragging him under me, trapping him and his tickling hand at the same time. His breath whooshes out of him, the position putting us nearly nose to nose, close enough to make out every flicker of blue fanning out from his irises.
The urge to lean down and fit my lips to his is overwhelming. To taste and never stop.
But I don’t dare start something we can’t finish. So I kiss his cheek instead. His jaw. He eases out a breath, his hand spasming near my stomach.
My voice is a murmur. “Careful with those fingers, Red. You know I can overpower you.”
“And yet you never would unless I allow it,” he says, confident in his assessment. A smirk lines his lips. “Off.”
I let go, shifting away until not an inch of us is touching. Isaac looks smug as he follows me, pushing me onto my back and crawling over my lap.
“See?” he says, blue eyes staring down at me. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Trevor. You couldn’t even hurt that asshat from the bar who punched you in the eye.”
“I did twist his arm harder than I needed to.”
Isaac snorts. “Such a baddie.” He slips one hand under my shirt, fingers spanning wide over my stomach. “Can I ask you something?”
“Mhm.”
His fingers brush against me for a moment before his other hand rests on my chest, Isaac’s chin propped on top. “When should I expect the next line?”
My lips twist as I realize he’s asking about the poem. “No idea what you mean.”
Isaac pinches me lightly, but before I can retaliate, he stops. He stares at me, silence stretching before he says, “Trevor?”
“Yeah?”
“You haven’t kissed me goodnight.”
I huff a gentle breath, sitting up enough that I can reach Isaac’s mouth. He mirrors the motion, sitting up with me, waiting for me to follow through on his request.
I let my gaze run from his mouth downward. “Where?”
His eyes flare wide before he grabs the back of my neck, laughing. “My mouth, and you know it. I swear to God, Trevor, if you give me blue balls before bed, I’ll make sure my ass is nestled up against your cock all night.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?”
“Kiss me already,” he demands.
I do, the feel of Isaac’s lips turning me on no matter how short and sweet the kiss is. He doesn’t deepen it, but he groans as if the simple contact pains him, too.
He drops his forehead to my shoulder when we part. “Worth it.”
I can’t disagree with him. So I don’t.
I haven’t quite gotten used to seeing Isaac when I wake.
Somehow, I manage to open my eyes before my alarm, which gives me time to catch him sleeping. He’s lying on his stomach, one arm cradling his face.
I nearly snort. Even in sleep, he’s instinctually guarded.
I wonder how much of that has to do with his dad.
I carefully roll away, grabbing my phone to shut off the alarm so I can wake Isaac more gently. But first, I pad quietly from the room, closing the door behind me. After a quick pit stop in the bathroom, I head through the still-dark apartment to the kitchen.
It takes me a minute to get the espresso machine working, but finally, a stream of dark brew drops into the little cup.
Step four. Perfect the hazelnut latte.
I grab the hazelnut syrup I bought before frothing the milk. When I mix it all together, it looks like it should. I take a tiny sip. Fairly close to what Isaac gets at the library, I think.
Hoping for the best, I bring it with me back to the bedroom.
Isaac still hasn’t stirred. I sit on the edge of the bed, setting the drink on the nightstand in case he wakes abruptly.
“Morning,” I try.
Nothing.
I lean close and press a kiss to the tiny piece of his temple not covered by his arm.
Still nothing.
“What’s this?” I say. “Todd thinks he knows more Emerson than you?”
“I will fight him,” Isaac mumbles, shifting at last. He stretches with a groan before peeking an eye open and finding me. “You’re full of shit.”
“Morning,” I say again, presenting Isaac with the mug.
He perks up, reaching for it and looking inside. “Ohh, you are dangerous. Is this…” He takes a careful sip, his eyes widening. “Marry me.”
I bark a laugh that has Isaac’s eyes crinkling with his smile. He moans as he sips the latte, settling upright with the mug cradled in his hands.
When he realizes I’m staring at him, he stills. “What?”
“Nothing. Just…reminds me of a dream I had once.”
Isaac raises an eyebrow. “You dream of serving me coffee in the morning?”
No, more like I’ve dreamt of you in my clothes, in my bed, looking content and covered in my cum.
I clear my throat. “We have a good hour and a half or so before I’ll need to leave for class. Should we get started on that studying?”
Isaac drops his head back before nodding. “Yeah. Yep. I’ll just use the bathroom first.”
As Isaac slips out of the room, I find the second piece of his poem. Four words this time.
Countless faces I forget.
I tuck it inside his wallet in the hopes he’ll find it at lunchtime. I’m sitting on the floor with my laptop out when Isaac steps back in the room. He settles next to me, wearing my sweats still.
“Were you ever a barista?” he asks, taking another sip of his drink.
“No.”
“Hm. So you just…figured out how to make it for me.”
His tone is matter-of-fact, but I don’t miss the note of appreciation. I know he has his mother to look after him. His friends, too.
But maybe he’s been missing this more than either of us realized.
“It’s simple, really,” I tell him.
“What is? Making coffee?”
I shake my head. “My motives.”
He looks at me curiously. “Is this where you admit you’re buttering me up for some nefarious reason?
Oh my God… You really are going to hunt me, aren’t you?
You’ve waited until I let down my guard, and now you’re going to pull out your crossbow, and I’m going to have to run for my actual life. You know I hate running, Trevor.”
“Brat,” I cut in, a laugh amidst my growl. “Would you let me finish before writing your own demise?”
“Yeah,” he ekes out. “Please do.”
I shift his way, brushing some hair out of his eye. “I like making you smile, Red. That’s what I was going to say. Doing something like this? Spending mere minutes making a drink that puts a smile on your face? It’s the easiest thing.”
Isaac fiddles with the rim of his mug. “I think…not everyone would view it that way.”
“No,” I agree. “But not everyone is your boyfriend.”
He blows out a heavy breath. “So dangerous. For what it’s worth…I like making you smile, too.”
I lean my shoulder against his, pulling my laptop closer when Isaac opens his textbook. We spend the morning studying together, like we so often do, the sky outside the window dark, my own bookshelf beside us instead of the numerous stacks in the library.
It’s peaceful. And it’s over far too soon.
And when Isaac goes, I distract him with a kiss as I slip a single poppy stem through the opening of his bag.