Chapter 4 #2
That takes him aback, like maybe he didn’t know that nickname hurt his feelings. “Magnus. Cool, nice to meet you, man.”
Magnus nods, sitting up a little straighter in his chair.
Caleb holds out his hand, and Magnus shakes it reluctantly, but it’s firm nonetheless.
Then Caleb’s eyes swivel to Bev and Kate. They introduce themselves, both sizzling with the opportunity to say something they shouldn’t.
“How do you guys know Whit?” Caleb asks them.
“We’re on the debate team with him.”
“Well, cool. Nice to meet you both. I’m Caleb. Whit’s roommate.”
And this is where it ends. Bev and Kate wiggle in their seats, the sizzling at extreme pressures now.
“Oh. We know. We’ve heard all about you,” Kate blurts, and I feel my eyes narrow, the apples of my cheeks reddening to molten levels.
I am going to melt.
Caleb obviously isn’t bothered by this. He only seems to puff up in excitement.
And then he does something that makes me nearly expire.
He reaches out and cradles the back of my neck. Like a lover, like more than a friend.
“That so?” he says softly, a soft squeeze of his hand making me nearly explode.
“He won’t shut up about you,” Kate adds, and that’s when I stand up, the movement sending the chair skittering back with a loud clatter.
“I think we should go now,” I blurt, sending my not-friends a scathing look. I will speak to them about this later.
But none of them seem bothered by it. They seem pleased.
Caleb looks even prouder, his eyes twinkling. I won’t stand for this any longer. I reach down and grab his wrist, pulling him forward. Away from that. Away from the hidden truths.
“No shame in being obsessed with me,” he says to my back as I pull him along. I refuse to look at him. I don’t want him to read the emotions on my face.
When we finally make it out of the cafeteria, I let go of him.
And I know he sees the pink on my cheeks, the way it bleeds down my neck and disappears beneath my shirt.
“You’re blushing again,” he says, teasing me, and I grunt as I gesture for him to follow me toward the parking lot.
I won’t do this with an audience. I refuse.
I’ve tried to ignore him, to pretend that none of this happened, but he won’t let me go. He won’t leave me alone.
“You giving me a ride home?” Caleb asks when I reach my Audi, a car—more like a weight—given to me by my father.
I unlock it and slip inside. Caleb follows me in. He’s close here, too close, and the scent of him is making my skin break out in goosebumps, my fingers fidgeting with the steering wheel.
“Nice car,” he says as he runs his hand reverently over the dash.
I bite back a soft moan, thankful the roar of the engine covers it up.
“Seatbelt,” I finally say, and I’m met with an eye roll.
Well, I won’t have him dying on my watch.
“Sure thing, Daddy-o.”
I clear my throat at that and then drive out of the parking lot, speeding slightly to get us home faster, to get out of this small, confined space.
“So…you talk to your friends about me?” he says, and I swerve around another car, needing this drive to be over. It’s only five minutes to our place, but it feels like an eternity.
“They exaggerate.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve told my cousins all about you.”
“I know.”
“That so?”
“Yes. It was a deduction I made when they arrived at our place. They knew far too much about me. Also, Sem told me once that I was the main topic of conversation whenever you were around.”
He leans back against the headrest and stares at me. That gaze burns in the best way.
“Yeah, well, can you blame me? You’re hard as fuck to figure out,” he replies.
I whip the car into my assigned parking spot at the apartment complex and cut off the engine. A long exhale escapes me as I turn toward him, that frantic tap on my knee mimicking the rapid pace of my heart.
He has no idea how closed off I can be or why.
“I don’t open up to many people. It’s nothing to do with you.”
“You open up to that pretty boy back there?”
I wet my lips and then push out of the car. I don’t need to speak to him about my friendships. Caleb and I aren’t close. We aren’t even really friends.
We’re definitely not boyfriends, no matter what his family thinks.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, scrambling after me. “Why the silence?”
I say nothing, just let myself into the apartment and crouch down, untying my boots.
“Look, you’re pissed… Well, I don’t know, are you? Because you’re damn hard to read, so I can’t really tell.”
I stand up, measuring my words. It was easier when he was ill, when he was half out of it. Now he’s asking questions that are making me squirm. What does he want from me? To open up and explain why I am the way I am?
I can’t do that.
It was hard enough talking to a therapist about it.
I move to the kitchen and grab a cup of water, swallowing it down with thirsty gulps.
He shifts on his feet, looking slightly forlorn. Lost.
I don’t want him to feel any sort of way about me.
“I’m not pissed,” I finally say, setting my cup in the sink. “Let’s just…watch a movie. That’s what you wanted, right?”
I move toward the couch and fiddle with the remote, suddenly feeling unsure. Maybe this isn’t what he wanted. Maybe I had it all wrong.
But then Caleb jogs to the kitchen, grabs two beers, and sits down right next to me. So close our thighs brush, so close that I can feel the warmth of him.
He pops the top of a beer off with a flick of his thumb, and it clatters to the floor. I stare at it. My immaculate floor, dirtied by him.
It doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should.
“What are we watching?” he asks as I start scrolling. My mind is focused, not on him. It can’t be focused on him.
Suddenly, I feel his fingers brush against my hand and thread through mine.
I freeze, unable to breathe.
I stare at our hands. Entwined. Together.
He’s holding my fucking hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice rough and husky, a clear telltale sign of everything I feel in this moment.
“Holding your hand,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Like this is what he does in his free time.
I know it’s not.
I know he’s never done this with another man before.
“Why?” I ask, chancing a look at him.
He meets my gaze, those eyes so fucking blue, those pupils dark and blown out. “Because you’re tapping them all the time, and it’s driving me up a wall.”
“I apologize. I’ll stop,” I say, but Caleb doesn’t let go. He gives me no space. Instead, he just leans back, spreads his legs open, and drinks his beer. He looks wanton at this moment, exposed. I can make out all of his skin, his nipple piercing, the muscles in his thighs.
I swallow loudly, and Caleb peers over at the sound.
I half-expect him to comment on it, but instead, he just bobs his head. “Cool. Cool.” Then motions to the screen. “How about that one?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about until I follow his hand and realize he’s mentioning a show we could watch together.
“Okay,” is all I can say as I click on it.
It starts to play, but all I can think about is his hand against mine. That rough, warm skin.
The way it would feel grabbing my back as I pushed into him…
“You’re doing it again,” he says, and I blink at him. I guess the hand he isn’t holding is fidgeting.
“You’re a nervous wreck,” he says as he finishes his beer and flicks the cap off the other one. It lands on the floor, and I stare at it, glowering deeply at the mess he’s making of my life.
“You want to get those, huh? Put them in the garbage? It’s killing you not to,” he says, a tease, a taunt.
I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. I can’t help how I am, what I like.
I am who I am. A product of my father’s lessons.
“I’m fine.”
He scoffs, not believing it. I don’t either. I’m a fucking liar.
That’s who I am now.
He finishes the second beer as the show plays in the background. Caleb seems to be half-watching it, mostly watching me, and I do the same. My eyes flick from our twined hands to his exposed skin, to that backward hat.
Our hands are on his lap now, and his thumb is casually stroking over mine.
I want to flee.
I want to never leave.
“You coming with me this weekend?” he asks, and I realize then that the show ended. I had no idea.
All I watched was him.
“Do you need me to?”
“To be honest, man, I’m not sure you’d get away with not showing up. I’m pretty sure if I arrive alone, there is a good chance my cousins will come looking for you. You’ll probably be dragged there despite wanting to come or not.”
I sigh, knowing that is most likely true. They don’t seem to give up easily.
“Then it’s best I go.”
“Alright,” he replies, sounding happy about it. “They’re going to act like we’re together. No matter what we tell them, they won’t believe it. Just be ready for the harassment. You sure you’re okay with that?”
“I’ll be fine.”
He hums under his breath, a sweet, torturous sound. Then he pulls his hat off and runs a hand through his hair. He seems intent on killing me because he stands up and rubs his abs. Showing them off to me.
“Alright, man. Move over there. My back is killing me.”
I blink at where he’s pointing and arch an eyebrow at him. Absolutely not. I’m not doing this again. I didn’t do it all week. I persevered.
I survived.
“Why?” I say instead of refusing.
“Why do you think?”
“I’d like to hear you say it.”
“You for real?” he asks, looking indignant.
Good, maybe if he says it, then he’ll realize what a bad idea this is too.
“Yes. Why do you want me to move, Caleb?”
He purses his lips and debates saying it, admitting it. This is it. A straight guy won’t admit—
“Fine. I want to cuddle. With you. Now move.”
My lips twitch, confusion warring inside of me at his blunt response. I didn’t expect that from him, but then again, why would I? He’s done nothing but surprise me. And I surprise myself. Because instead of telling him no, I just move over and spread my legs open across the chaise.