Chapter 43 #2
“If you feel like you need some more support,” I say, hoping he doesn’t feel like I’m shoving him off on someone else, but well aware that any sort of counseling isn’t mine to offer, “I think you should make an appointment with the guidance counselor. She can hook you up with some resources, give you some support and information about coming out, whatever you need.”
He nods a bit more decidedly. “I know. And I’m planning to. She’s got that safe space poster up, and it’s kind of her job to be good about this kind of thing, right? But I just wanted to tell someone I know first, you know?”
“I get it.” I smile at him, and he tilts his head consideringly as a curious look crosses his face. Next moment it’s gone though, and whether that perceptive brain of his has guessed something or not, I’m not worried like I am with whatever Janice Dawson might think.
It’s not until Leo’s long gone and I’m packing up to leave when it hits me like a ton of bricks. If Leo does guess that maybe I understand his situation even more than he’d thought at first, aren’t I just affirming that it’s something to hide by hiding myself?
“It’s unlocked!”
My heart does a weightless sort of flutter as I let myself in through Charlie’s door. Yeah, in the tentative fantasies that have been floating around my head lately, it’s not Charlie’s rented cabin that I’m letting myself into to find him already there, but my house. Our house.
Still, this feels close enough to get my thoughts going on that subject I’ve been thinking more and more about lately.
For my entire life, the house I grew up in has always been my dad’s house to me.
A place I only had to go back to when I couldn’t be over at Charlie’s.
A prison I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of as soon as I graduated and left Riverside behind forever.
A financial opportunity, wrapped up in the form of an unwanted burden, handed to me with a shit ton of mixed feelings and painful memories.
Certainly never a place I’d ever want to call home.
Except, the past couple months have changed all of that.
Every time I walk through the door now and see the living room, I think of laughing and chatting with Charlie as he handed me boards to snap into place for the new floor. Waking up sick as hell but happier than I’d felt in so long, wrapped up in his arms on the crappy old couch.
The kitchen reminds me of cooking with him perched up on the counter or bumping me out of the way to bossily take over whatever I’m doing that he thinks (and rightly so) he can improve upon.
Of this Saturday afternoon, when I came down from showering after finally stripping that hideous old wallpaper off the dining room walls to find Charlie making us lunch, swaying his hips and shaking his delicious ass to his own (terrible) singing of “Magical Mr. Mistoffelees”.
He'd gone beet red when he’d turned around to find me watching him, and the whole thing had been so damn adorable, I still can’t make myself stop grinning at the memory.
And god, I won’t even let myself get started on what my bedroom makes me think of now. Much as I’m counting on tonight ending with Charlie and me naked in bed together, I don’t need to get myself all worked up before I’m even all the way through the door.
Except I don’t even have a chance to try to keep myself under control, because the first thing I see when I step into his living room is a full, gorgeous view of Charlie in skintight black yoga pants and a hot pink, equally tight tank top that cuts off just above his bellybutton.
The outfit itself would be enough to have me going from zero to hard as a steel rod, but is that enough for Charlie? Oh no, it is not.
He’s bent completely in half, face down, ass up, hands and feet planted on a bright purple yoga mat.
As I watch, dumbstruck and fighting back the urge to stride across the room and grab him and have my way with him now, he shifts his feet, splaying his legs wide and pushing his hands forward on the mat, bringing his body into this sexy, perfectly angled bend.
“Wh—” My first attempt at the question sticks in my throat. “What are you doing?”
“Downward facing dog,” he turns his face toward me, flashing me an innocent smile.
The hot pink top he’s wearing makes his green eyes ridiculously bright as he peers through the upside down waves of his golden-brown hair.
“I got home later than I’d planned, so I’m just finishing up my yoga practice. If it doesn’t bother you?”
Cheeky bastard. He damn well knows there’s no way in hell this is bothering me. Not in a bad way at least… Because I am so hot and bothered right now, it’s not even remotely funny.
“Nope.” I shake my head, resolutely keeping my eyes on his face. If he’s gonna be so damn smug about how irresistible he is, I’m not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me look.
So I wait until his head falls back between his outstretched arms to rake my eyes over the tight, smooth, glorious perfection that is his body.
Fucking hell—
My short lived, petty attempt at playing it cool goes right out the window when Charlie shifts forward, straightening his back before slowly lowering his body down to the mat, dropping his hips and arching his spine as he pushes his upper body upright.
He moves effortlessly, but if you look closely, like I sure as hell am right now, his very exposed, toned body ripples as his muscles flex. There’s a faint shimmer of sweat over his bare back and shoulders, and his hair is mussed from the way his head just got done dangling upside down.
There’s no hiding my staring now. If anything, I think someone is probably going to have to come and pry my jaw up from the ground.