7. Sam
7
Sam
G oing from talking to Zeke on the app to over messenger shouldn’t have changed anything.
But it had.
Now I didn’t need to log in to see if he was online. I could just message him while I was going about my day. Send him little updates and delight in whatever stream of questions it inevitably set off.
It was a heady feeling, being wanted. I wasn’t sure I’d ever experienced it before. Not like this, anyway. Zeke never seemed to tire of me.
Then again, it wasn’t like he’d met me in real life. I had to keep reminding myself that that was why this worked. That if we stepped out from behind our screens, Zeke would be confronted with the reality of me. The reality of my life.
He’d tire of me then.
Still, I couldn’t help but wish things could be different. That my brain was normal. That I could suggest a meet up with Zeke to see if our chemistry was as potent in real life as it was online.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
My phone was flat on my chest, Zeke’s voice rumbling over the speaker. For the past few nights, this was how we’d ended them. Despite talking to each other all day, one of us would find an excuse for a phone call before bed.
I was lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, wishing there was a script up there for me to follow. “I’m thinking…I’m thinking this is too easy.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” I said slowly. “But it makes me want to do things I can’t.”
Zeke paused. “What things, Sam?”
I blew out a breath. It felt like we’d been dancing around this for weeks now, neither of us fully acknowledging it.
‘ If you tell him, it’ll scare him off for good. ’
Fuck it. For once, I was going to say exactly what I wanted. “Like meeting you.”
The silence that followed was so long that I ended up saying, “Zeke?”
“I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. Was just trying to think how to respond.”
“It’s okay.” Fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything.. “Like I said, I can’t do that, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Why can’t you do it? Shit, do you have a boyfriend?”
I laughed bitterly. “No, Zeke, no boyfriend. I’m very single.”
“Good.” Was that a sigh of relief? “What’s the problem then?”
“The problem is that you don’t know the real me. If you did, you wouldn’t be spending hours on the phone with me every day and night.”
“Are you saying you’ve not been honest about yourself?”
“No, of course I have.”
Zeke continued to fire questions at me. “Have you lied about anything in your life?”
“No, but?—”
“Have you pretended to be someone you’re not?”
“Well, no?—”
“Then I don’t see the issue.” I could almost hear Zeke’s shrug over the phone. “You’ve been yourself, and there’s nothing about you I don’t like.”
“That’s because you’ve only heard about my OCD through what I’ve told you,” I whispered. “Hearing about it and experiencing it are two different things.”
“Sam…” Zeke sighed. “Look, I’m not good at the whole words thing.”
I smiled despite myself. “You’ve always been pretty good at it with me.”
“It’s easy with you. Trust me, I’m known for having a habit of saying the wrong thing or choosing the wrong path. The last thing I want to do is upset or offend you.”
“Don’t worry about that. Please.” I swallowed, my eyes burning. “I’m tired of people tiptoeing around me when they learn about my illness.”
“Okay, then I’ll be honest. Nothing you’ve told me scares me. You can’t help having OCD any more than I can help having red hair.”
Oh fuck me, this wasn’t going to help my delusions. “You’re a redhead?”
“With the temper to match,” Zeke said darkly. “But my point is, it’s part of you. And I like you, Sam. All of you. I can’t see how meeting you would change that.”
Maybe, just maybe, he could be different. Maybe you don’t have to be alone. “Do you want to? Meet me, I mean?”
Zeke groaned. I should’ve been disappointed, but I was too busy imagining other scenarios where he might make a noise like that. Ones where he sank deep inside me. Or wrapped his hand around both our cocks.
“I do,” Zeke said finally. “But I can’t.”
My fantasies vanished into the night. “You can’t.”
“No. I’m sorry, Sam.”
To my horror, I felt warmth prickle at the corners of my eyes. Bit rich considering I’d been the one saying the same thing mere minutes ago, but I couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t stop the thoughts.
‘ See? This is what happens when you put yourself out there. Hang up before you do even more damage. ’
I was able to ignore the compulsion. “It’s okay. I get it.”
“No, you don’t get it,” Zeke said almost desperately. “Trust me, Sam, if things were different, I’d be asking for your address right now.”
Ice crawled along my spine as I remembered the question he’d asked me earlier. “Oh my god, are you in a relationship?”
“Fuck no,” Zeke sighed. “That’s not it, Sam. It’s…it’s complicated. That’s all I can say about it. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay.” Even though he couldn’t see me, I forced a smile onto my face. It was another compulsion—if I smiled, it would make me feel happier. It rarely worked. “You don’t have to explain, Zeke. We don’t owe each other anything.”
“I know.” His voice grew heavier with each word. “It’s just…I wish things were different. Chatting to you these past couple of months has made me happier than in…well, ever.”
‘ Not happy enough to want to meet you though. ’
I had to respect Zeke’s wishes. He didn’t want to meet me, and I wasn’t going to push. Obviously, what we had now was enough for him.
I just needed to make it enough for me.
I didn’t understand why his rejection was cutting me so deep. At the start of this phone call, I’d been as opposed to meeting as he was. What had changed?
That was a stupid question; I knew exactly what had changed. It had been Zeke’s apparent acceptance of me—warts and all. I should’ve known it was all too good to be true. It was easy to tell someone what they wanted to hear when you didn’t need to look them in the eye.
“Sam?”
I cleared my throat, realising I’d been quiet for far too long. “Yeah?”
“Do you…do you want to continue talking?”
Fuck, I must’ve been a masochist in another life, because the answer was all too easy to find. “Yeah, Zeke. I do.”
“ I just think this will look better.”
I rolled my eyes, grateful that Kirsty had opted for an audio call over video. “I understand where you’re coming from, but from a design perspective, pink and red won’t work well together on the graphics.”
Kirsty huffed. She was a fantastic author, but a designer she was not. It was why she’d hired me…not that she ever accepted my ideas the first time around. “Can we try it my way?”
“Of course.” I sighed inwardly as I spun in my chair to face my computer. “I’ll have them over to you in an hour.”
After exchanging goodbyes, we hung up. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to will the headache nagging at the back of my skull to kindly fuck off. I liked Kirsty, I did. She was a great client and kept me very busy. And she always paid on time.
But if I had to design one more cutesy set of pink and red graphics for her dub-con dark romance, I was going to scream. Pink and red didn’t go together. Plus, it was misleading. Readers would pick it up expecting a cute rom-com.
Kirsty’s books were far from that. It wasn’t like she was ashamed of what she wrote either—she was rightly very proud of her work. Why she wanted to have her teasers look like they were for a different genre entirely was beyond me.
Those graphics never saw the light of day, thank fuck. They honestly weren’t something I wanted my name attached to. No, I’d send her what she’d asked for. She’d hem and haw before suggesting the very idea I’d mentioned earlier, framing it as though it was her own.
I never complained, just agreed with her. I was happy she’d be sharing graphics I was proud of; I didn’t need others to know it hadn’t been her idea. She paid me to make her look good, not the other way around.
As soon as my phone hit the desk, it started vibrating again. Oh, what now?
All my irritation vanished as I glanced down and saw the name on the screen.
Zeke.
Since asking him if he wanted to meet a week ago, our daily conversations had continued. For the most part, we’d returned to our usual ease. There were more frequent silences though, moments where one of us wanted to say something we knew we shouldn’t. We never did though, moving on from the pause and scrambling for new topics of conversation.
If I could go back, I never would’ve asked him to meet up. I hated that it had changed things. I didn’t need my mind to tell me I’d fucked it all up, I was well aware of my mistakes.
I needed to get on board with the idea that Zeke and I would never meet in real life. And you know what they say: The best way to get over a man is to get under a different one. Hooking up wasn’t something I did often—it was too much of a trigger for my OCD—but I had a few…well, I wouldn’t go as far to call them friends, but acquaintances with benefits. Men I knew I could trust who would fuck me and leave, no questions asked.
I should reach out to one of them. Jude, perhaps. He was easygoing and friendly and, most importantly, nothing about him reminded me of Zeke.
A few hours with him could be what I needed to get my head screwed on right where Zeke was concerned.
Because if one thing was clear, it was that I couldn’t cut things off with Zeke. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to.
Bracing myself for the sound of his voice, I answered the phone. “Hey, Zeke.”
“How’s the all-powerful assistant today?” His deep rumble settled into my bones far too comfortably.
“Don’t think those words are supposed to go together.” I reached for my Jelly Babies, popping one into my mouth.
“Hmm, I don’t know. If you ask me, the assistant has all the power. They set the schedule and do what needs to be done so the boss can function. Without you, it’d all fall apart.”
“You give me too much credit.”
“Or maybe you don’t give yourself enough, Sam. Don’t put yourself down, please. I suspect your brain does that for you anyway—you don’t need to heap it on too.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“Besides,” he continued, “I’ve seen the work you do, Sam, and you’re far above a dogsbody. You’ve got quite the eye for marketing. Your graphics are far better than the standard for the industry.”
I stiffened. “How would you know that?”
“Ah.” Zeke sounded sheepish. “This is one of those times where I’ve spoken before thinking it through.”
“It’s funny really, how different we are in that respect,” I mused. “I overthink everything and you don’t think about anything.”
“That’s not true. I think about you.”
I closed my eyes to fight against the rising hope. “Don’t say things like that, Zeke. It’s not fair.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “It’s true, but I shouldn’t have said it.”
“You shouldn’t. Not when we both know it won’t change anything.”
Zeke might’ve been miles away, but the tension bubbling over the line made the distance seem even greater. “I wish it could.”
I ignored that. There was no point continuing along this path—it would only end in more heartache for me. “How have you seen my graphics?”
“You mentioned one of your authors, Kirsty Audus? I checked out her Instagram. Then I kind of fell down a rabbit hole, comparing your work to others. I was impressed, Sam. I might know fuck all about marketing, but I can recognise quality, and what you produce is quality.”
My brain said I should argue with him and insist he couldn’t make a judgement given his own admission of not understanding it, but, for once, I was able to overrule my brain. “Thank you.”
“Thank yourself,” Zeke said. “You’re the one who did the work.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, instead lapsing into silence.
“Sam…” There was no missing Zeke’s frustration. For all his talk of his temper, he’d never shown it towards me. “Are you…Is everything okay?”
I leaned my elbow on the desk, resting my forehead against my palm. “It’s okay. I’m okay, just having a shitty day.”
“Do I need to shout at someone?”
I laughed. “No, I’m fine. Think I might be burning out a bit. Maybe I need to do something to relax.”
“Want to game later?”
My earlier thoughts drifted back into my mind. “Actually, I’m going to do something else. I think I’m going to invite someone over.”
“Like a friend?”
Why did that question have me squirming? I didn’t have anything to feel guilty or ashamed about. “More like a hookup.”
His silence had my brow furrowing. “Zeke? You there?”
“I’m here.” His reply was quieter than usual. Darker. “Is that something you do often?”
“Not really. But I have a healthy sex drive, and sometimes I need someone to scratch the itch for me.”
Another long silence.
“What about your OCD?”
“That’s why it’ll be with someone I know and trust. Plus, they’re happy to come here. If I’m in my own space, it’s easier to manage my triggers.”
“I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”
I stiffened. “Should I not have told you?”
“No, I’m glad you did.” He sighed. “It’s just made it all real, you know? If I don’t make you mine, then someone else will.”
My heart was hammering in my chest. “I didn’t realise that option was on the table.”
“It’s not,” he said hollowly. “But fuck, Sam. I’m a possessive motherfucker. You might not be mine, but you feel like you are.”
You feel like you are.
I closed my eyes. “Zeke, please. Don’t.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He paused. “And I imagine I can’t ask you not to reach out to whoever the fuck this bloke is either.”
For the first time in all my conversations with Zeke, anger began to prick at me. “No. You can’t. Stop doing this, Zeke. My mind is already fucked up enough, I don’t need you playing with it too. You either want more with me, or you don’t.”
“I’m sorry. Believe me, messing you around is the last thing I want to do. Can you…can you give me a few days to sort some stuff out?”
I swallowed hard. I shouldn’t. The red flags Zeke was waving were impossible to ignore. Then again, I’d lived my life avoiding risks and danger. Maybe it was time to do something different. To choose a different path.
“Okay.”
“Thank you.” The relief radiated through the phone. “I appreciate it, Sam.”
“I won’t reach out to Jude,” I found myself saying. To be honest, the idea hadn’t held much appeal. It was more something I thought I should do, rather than something I wanted to do. “But be warned, my mood is bound to get shittier until someone gets me off.”
“Does it have to be in person?”
I frowned. “Huh?”
“Like, if I called you back in a few hours and talked you through it, told you what to do, would that work?”
So much blood went to my cock that I legit felt dizzy for a second. I pressed my hand against my erection. Obviously my dick was on board with the idea.
The question was, was the rest of me?
“Umm…yeah. That’d work.”