24. Chapter 24 Staley
Chapter 24 Staley
T he last few days have proven how persistent unmedicated anxiety can be. Going without my head meds was never the plan, but it’s safe to say I’ve consistently missed too many days for the pills I do have left to work as they should. I’m Team Antidepressants for Life, and if a waitress were to walk by me in this library and ask me if adding some neurotransmitters to my salad for an extra buck-fifty would make me feel better, you better believe my wallet is making an appearance. This is new territory, being without my medicine.
Honestly, my angst and restlessness haven’t had a chance to rear their ugly heads too much with how busy life is. Reruns of Roseanne and hyperfixating on Dad’s every move have my nervous system in full-on distraction mode. I’m anxious about seeing Theo again, but his email about meeting in the library proposed a neutral territory.
In the same tone, after receiving one of the best orgasms of my life, one would think I’d chase the high by moving into Theo’s house unprompted and start receiving more of his gifts on the regular. I’d settle for the heart rate increase he put between my legs any day over the one I get worrying about my future.
Gabby—a total pixie dream with more guts than I’ve ever mustered—has kept me afloat the past few days. We spent three hours working on the group project for Theo’s class, but I was not rushing to get home. Will Theo show? If I don’t sort my shit out with him, I’ll find myself in yet another problem only TV sitcoms manage to concoct.
Leslie said, Staley, handle your studies . You can’t do that here. I can move some things around for you today. And, of course, she means every word she says because I’ve checked in with her thrice now, and each time, she’s replied with a gif of Michael Scott asking Why are you the way that you are?
I reply with: I’m an anxious neurodivergent who hates goat cheese.
Leslie replies with a skull-and-crossbones emoji.
A million things run through my head, the noise much too loud, like towels in a dryer perpetually wet, spinning and spinning, never getting fluffy and soft. I slip my headphones into my ears and click play on the latest Luca Blue recording. This one is titled “Let’s Talk.” It’s quarter to seven, and perhaps I can soften the blow of hearing every delicious word from Theo’s mouth if I listen to his alter ego ahead of time.
Clear and stunning, Luca’s voice brings me back to the center. This voice should be bottled up and sold in a pharmacy. I lean into my palm and close my eyes, letting my breath slow and his words overtake me. Again, I’m a complete idiot for not making the connection sooner. Now, all I can hear is Theo’s tone, dripping with sex, just smoother in delivery. I wonder how long it takes him to record these episodes. It can’t be easy. He is more patient than I am.
I am grateful for the privacy of the study room. All the moans and groans are for my listening discretion only. A few minutes pass by as I relax into the track. A riptide of poetry and Earl Grey tea threaten to pull me under their current like a warm, shore-breaking wave, heavy enough to wash over my skin and pull me back to reality. A soft smile breaks across my face before I can stop it. I am Pavlov’s dog, and Theo has rung my bell. With my eyes still closed, I sigh, reliving my interaction with Theo.
A warm touch comes to the top of my shoulder, and I bumble my phone in my hands, startled enough to yelp. An image of hotness hovers above me, all curly headed and green eyed. There’s either a massive plumbing leak in this library, or the mere sight of this man is enough to turn me into a puddle of lust.
“St-staley, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Gulping over and over again is attractive to a potential mate, right?
Theo’s eyes work me over with a spark of curiosity.
“Theo, you scared the hell out of me.” I’m panting for more reasons than one.
I don’t miss how his eyes dart to my phone and the smile he fights away, and dammit, I’ve shown all my cards again!
“I’m a l-little early.”
“Oh no, it’s okay. The startled state is my fault.”
Theo smiles, and I’d love for him to hug me now, the idea warming every part of me.
“I have you to thank for all of this.” I wave my hand across the notes, books, and papers covered in highlighted sonnets and rhymes. “Gabby is to thank for all of the highlighting.”
Theo’s mouth opens and then shuts again as he releases a tiny breath. Then, this mother-freaking-panty-dropper has the nerve—no, the audacity—to wet his bottom lip with his tongue. Nowhere within the confines of this study room do I see any signage indicating optional pants wearing, but I make a mental note of how Theo shut the door behind him, and the only loudness between us is what we’re not saying. Last I checked, these study rooms buffered sound well.
Theo lifts his head, eyebrow cocked independently of the other and presses his mouth into a firm line. He presses his fingers into the top of the table.
“How so?”
“As you know, I didn’t willingly register for your class. I need it to graduate. I read all kinds of literature, but I don’t know anything about poetry. I had no intention of knowing what an epic is or why alliteration matters, but now I find solace in it all. Thank you. For this. It’s helped me a lot over the last few weeks.”
He’s not expecting me to say this, and I suppose I wasn’t either. I’ve rendered an already quiet man speechless. Humility has to be the most attractive thing in the opposite sex, and Theo has it in spades without even trying. A smile breaks as his shoulders drop, and I swear a hum radiates across the table from him to me.
“Thank you, Staley. Y-you don’t kn-know how much that means to m-me.”
There is a new layer of substance in how he speaks as if he’s not fighting the stutter or the din of his speech. It’s easier and softer. It’s him, and I love how it reverberates through my body, and despite my below-the-pants needs, I have things I want to say.
“About the other day. What we did—”
Theo cuts me off by putting his hands up and waving them back and forth. “Whatever you’re about to s-say, know that you are wr-wrong.”
His insistence stops me in my tracks, and I roll my eyes because I’ve heard every variation of why a client thinks it would be alright to pursue me sexually. But none of them have been worth losing my job and income over.
“I’m listening.”
“I misled you.”
“You don’t have to do that, Theo. We’re adults. We did a thing—a heartbeat in the front of the pants thing—and I assure you, our shortcomings”— do not look at his pants, because it’s all long comings down there —“are safe; we don’t have to repeat what happened. We can walk away from this with both of our jobs intact.”
Theo’s face is crimson, and again, he’s doing tricks with his bottom lip and this is the X Games, and he’s here to woo judges with a 1080 tongue flip. Don’t get me started on his lashes either. I’d let him butterfly kiss the hell out of me.
“Staley, stop.” Theo is direct and bossy.
The gulping returns because I know how to woo someone too.
“I don’t r-regret what we did, and my j-job isn’t at risk.”
“Well, I don’t either, but I’m afraid people will find out, and I’ll lose mine.”
“Staley, no. I d-don’t plan to tell anyone. I asked you here to discuss this issue. Would you be interested in a d-date?”
“A date?” I don’t mean to sound confused and dumbfounded, but here we are.
Theo rubs the palms of his hands into his closed eyes as if my mere existence flusters him. Shaking his head, he moves his hands before him with his fingers pressed together.
“Yes, a date. Outside of the c-classroom and not d-during a cuddle session. I w-want to get to know y-you, and I don’t want you to lose your job.”
I take all of him in, from the dark-washed denim jeans to the body-hugging thermal. Theo is fighting his voice and rubs his fingers into his jaw. Perhaps he’s forcing the muscles to relax in his face. Talking to me is hard for him, but I don’t want this to be his experience.
“Theo, asking me out shouldn’t bring you to a state of distress, should it? Because if that’s the case, you’re not obligated.”
His verdant eyes rest on me, steady and unblinking. My heart ricochets, desperate to move against the bass of his body. There are no words, only the kind of sexual disposition of wanting to crawl across this table.
“I don’t feel obligated. I want to. I like you.” The delivery is soft and meaningful.
“Theo, we’ve gone over this a hundred times already.” Why am I dead set on self-sabotage?
Theo softens and sits across from me. He gazes at me and takes his time to make his next argument.
“This is n-new for me. Women usually tr-try to change the way I speak. Or they c-cut me off. I can’t tell if it’s impatience or if I annoy them. None of them compare to how you’ve treated me, which has been with respect and kindness. You’re not trying to fix me.”
Vulnerability fills the room, and for once, I don’t know what to say because I think how shitty it is for someone to want to try and change this kind man to anyone other than he already is. An overwhelming urge to ask him for a list of names of these women so I can kick their asses hits me all at once.
“Fuck them, Theo. You’re perfect the way you are, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”
Theo stands abruptly, shoving his chair back as if my words were the hairpin trigger holding him back. Corded hands plant firmly against the table as he leans in, converting the humming into a full-on electrical charge, coiling up my legs through my lower belly, shooting goose bumps across my arms. A pause is a subtle way of describing an eternity as Theo gathers up what he says next.
“That won’t b-be necessary.”
“Oh. Why’s that?”
Theo circles the table until the delicious scent of bergamot drowns me, slowing my heart rate to a near stop. He pulls the pencil from my sloppy updo, bringing my chestnut locks past my shoulders.
“Hey! What’d you do that for?”
“I w-want it down.”
“It gets in the way when I’m reading, hence the pencil.” I’m toying with him by inserting some witty banter into a heated conversation, hoping it’ll cool us both down.
With our faces inches apart, I prepare to accept my fate, whether it involves pants or not. He traces the tops of my cheeks below my eyes with the pad of his thumb. I watch the pigment in his irises adjust as he strokes a beauty mark below my eye.
“Staley, do you know what these freckles d-do to me? How every person in this library would k-kill to look half as lovely with a pencil in their hand, let alone their h-hair.” He bends in to deliver the slightest kiss—one that ignites a brighter fire within me—on the mark he painted over. He continues, leaving me without a voice.
“Art should be f-framed, and your hair around this perfect, kissable face should be in an exhibit.”
“Theo, what are you doing?”
“Staley, with y-you, my mind feels smooth, and for once, I’m not afraid to turn practice into action. I d-don’t want anything less than what this is; I want more. If it means I meet you for snacks at midnight or w-walk you to your door after a long day at w-work, to spend ten minutes with you, I want that. Understand?”
Theo’s mouth collides with mine, and I surrender to whatever it is. His hand on my neck is demanding and unrelenting, cradling the heaviness spiraling throughout my head, leaving me lightheaded. He angles my face up, and I stretch to accommodate his lean over me, taking in how, at any other time, this position would be all kinds of wrong, but him over me is the comfort of a weighted blanket settling all of my nerves.
Theo brushes my hair from my shoulder. I take this as an opportunity to pull him in, straddling his legs over my lap, a classic Koala Cuddle, but he doesn’t know this, a move I use when a client needs to feel another heart beating against theirs. Koalas hug trees to cool their bodies down, but Theo and I are heated bodies.
A startled look crosses his face as he pulls back from my mouth. I have moves.
“What, what is it? Not a fan of this position?” I beg the universe that he will tell me it’s his favorite.
Theo searches my face as his shoulders settle. He speaks so quietly I have to slow my breathing to hear his words.
“ Like sugar, she warms in my embrace .” I’m unsure if he’s quoting something, but wherever the words come from, I’m more than happy to receive them.
Call me cotton candy and wrap me around a Theo-shaped cone. He pins my arms to the top of his thighs and rocks into my lap, prompting tiny, begging whimpers to escape my body. I’m not in control here, and for once, not having to figure out what’s next feels fucking incredible. Hot kisses trail down my neck, pooling in the space between the clavicle and the expanse of my throat. His mouth nestles perfectly in the divot, and I think it would be perfect to stay this connected and alive.
The tongue is muscle-bound, and Theo has put in the work all these years to speak with a clear voice, but now he uses it for the seduction of my body.
I make haste, work my wrist free, and bring Theo’s hand to my breast, spurring him to touch me. If I were on the clock, this would break a million contractual obligations, but it’s been a helluva year-life-existence thus far, and I think I stopped caring minutes before Theo entered this room. To have him touching me at all is a satisfied craving. Theo pulls his hand away and drops his forehead to mine, and it’s at this moment I am confident I’ve gone too far.
The light sheen of sweat on his brow only enhances his handsomeness. Without hesitation, I nuzzle my nose against his cheek, letting our bodies touch because I want them to. The urge to trace his face with my mouth, to see if he tastes as incredible as he looks, overpowers me when I run my tongue across his cheek to his ear. Theo breaks us apart by sliding his head to the side, allowing our temples to touch, a tender and intimate move on his part. All I feel is the rapid pulse of him aligning with my pussy.
“You may not move. I do not c-care how hard I get or how bad you want to grind against me; you will sit here and relish in how desperately I want you, Staley.”
Luca has come out to play. I could get used to this.
“And, if I readjust, you’ll do the s-same.”
I nod because please boss me around and tell me what to do . This response to his directions is an attempt at not losing whatever else he might be willing to give me. The only way to follow his direction is to sit on my hands, but since they’re curled into the tops of his delicious thighs right now, I leave them be.
Theo doesn’t resume kissing me, but I want him to. No, he does the opposite and makes uninterrupted eye contact aside from a few slow blinks and moans low enough for only me to hear. Focus and determination are hot. Add in the fact he’s rolling into my center of gravity with his hardness is maddening.
“I understand.”
My eyes fight to stay open and connected with his gorgeous greens. This is panty-melting good, and there are far too many layers of clothing between us, but I focus on how closing my eyes only amplifies the sensation between my legs.
Wet. Hot. Heat.
Mates in the wild often mirror their partner’s movements, but Theo gave me orders, and I’m set to follow them despite my body’s desire to wrap my legs around his torso until we are lock and key. I can only receive and take what he offers until I’m near my end. Regret is leaving my thin leggings in the dryer this morning and choosing to wear jeans instead.
“We’re going to get caught!” Stop being rational and let him hump you.
We’re fully clothed and dry-grinding like two kids at a Christian summer camp. At the sight of my heaving chest and tightening breath, Theo’s stoic presence shifts into something hungrier. He bites the inside of his cheek and breathes through his nose until the breath moves down his body, causing him to land his chest against mine. He kisses the side of my mouth, and my body responds kindly. What is this edging madness he’s subjecting me to?
“Oh, m-my G-god.” My release has no translation. I am tongue-tied.
Theo, unprepared for my pitch, slides his mouth over mine, catching the rest of my orgasm, swallowing it down as if it sustains his life. Strong hands cradle my cheek and the back of my neck. This is how all kissing should be. His gyrations slow with the pace of my own body. He comes down with me, and we float over the crest, unbothered by the tide of our want for the other. Our mouths unlock, and we’re left breathless.
His thumb brushes across my cheek, highlighting its current pink state. I draw my hand up in embarrassment. I’ve been wrapped up in jobs, money, and illnesses, and I didn’t stop to consider how much I could use something for myself. A small laugh creeps past my lips.
Add dry humping in the university library to my personal kinks list because, wow.
Theo stands with reluctance and speaks with more cockiness than I thought him capable.
“Who has the stutter now?” Straightening his pants out, I see he is still shamelessly hard, and all I can think about is how this is twice now he’s gotten me off without getting any in return from me.
Smart. Gorgeous. Funny. And he made me come—fully clothed.
Shit, I’m in deep.
“Wow. You went there, didn’t you?”
Embarrassment finally touches as Theo’s cheeks turn red, all fiery and hot.
“I g-got caught up in the moment.” His grin radiates from his whole body. “I was serious about what I said, Staley. I want to spend time with you.”
The idea of it sounds nice, something to look forward to even. I wonder how long I can sustain all the balls I have in the air with Dad’s health being the way it is. I only live once, I guess.
“Okay, a date sounds nice.”
Before we leave the library, Theo schedules an actual date with me.