Chapter 22 #2
I hustle us both inside even though it’s still dark and relatively quiet on the street. “Nice tux,” I mutter.
Our eyes clash, and it’s like he’s daring me to ask for more information.
I plan to. But not in the lobby. His jaw is so tense, I’m not sure he can loosen it enough to talk.
Once we’re in my apartment, he shrugs off the overcoat.
I take it from him, planning to hang it up somewhere, but I wait while he removes his jacket, cummerbund, and loosens his tie, finally sliding it off too.
Part of me thinks he’s gonna keep going, strip naked and make me an offer I won’t be strong or smart enough to refuse, but he stops after he rids himself of his shoes and untucks his shirt. “Thank you,” he says. “For coming.”
“Any particular reason you thought of me?”
He walks toward the couch. “I’m always thinking of you. Whether I want to be or not.”
“Maybe I should be more specific…” I follow him and watch him sit in a sprawl on the couch.
He looks up at me expectantly. “You can sit with me. I won’t try anything.”
I scowl.
He raises his brows. “Did you want me to? I figured you were settling into your baby making days since I haven’t heard from you.”
“I—yeah—no—Silas, what are you doing here?”
“I had a terrible fucking night, and I didn’t wanna go home yet.”
“Why not?”
“My apartment sucks, and I’m restless, and I don’t fucking know, I just—didn’t want to be there.”
Suddenly, he bends forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands and he lets out a harsh, jagged breath. Again, I move without remembering moving. I’m on the couch beside him. My hand is on his back. I rub up and down with a firm, hopefully reassuring, pressure.
“Sex doesn’t mean anything to me, you know? It can’t. If it did, I couldn’t…”
“Yeah,” I say. “I get it.”
“I’m not saying I don’t want it or I don’t need it, I’m just saying it’d be like having a meaningful relationship with protein, which I don’t. It’s not easy to rattle me.”
“What happened?” I don’t know why I’m asking. I don’t really want to know.
“They filmed me.”
“What?” They?
“It ended up being this couple, and I think they were using me for content or something. It was just…”
“Did they hurt you?”
“No…nothing like that. It was just so fucking degrading. I felt like a whore. I mean—if I wanted to be online, I’d make an account, you know? This is the most private thing in my life, and I…”
He trails off and breathes heavily into his hands again. “It was so much money. And I am a whore. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”
“It’s…not.” Of all the eleven thousand thoughts running through my head, that isn’t one of them.
“I couldn’t even stay hard.” He says that like his inability to maintain an erection was the real humiliation of the night. Not that he was catfished or filmed with dubious consent.
I run my hand up his back and position myself so I’m bent over with him. “Hey.”
He looks at me, and there’s a plea in his eyes. I don’t know what it’s for, but I do the first thing it makes me think of. I hug him.
He melts into the embrace, sighing and digging his face into the place where my shoulder meets my neck. I run my fingers through his hair and continue rubbing circles on his back. He digs his nails into my shirt and hangs on tight.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I ruffle his hair. “No, I’m sorry that happened. I’m glad you texted.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You were the only person I wanted to see, and I can’t explain it, but this was exactly what I wanted. Just this. While I was waiting for you to show up, I was praying you’d hug me.”
“Silas…”
“I know it’s pathetic. I know I should be pretending we don’t know each other, but I think about you all the time. I can’t stop.”
My hand stills in his hair.
He begins to pull away, and I’m so stunned, I let him move a few inches before stopping him from going too far. We’re staring at each other, and he apologizes again.
“Silas, what do you need?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why me?”
“I already told you I don’t know.”
“But I don’t believe you,” I say.
His gaze drops to my mouth, and a pained look crosses his face. He swallows and ducks his head. He moves his hands to my hips like he means to leverage himself away. This time, I let him.
I’m desperate and confused. Desperately confused. “We can’t…”
“I know,” Silas responds quickly.
“I was going to say be anything.”
“I know that, too.”
“Why would you want any part of that?” I ask.
“I think I might be a little self-destructive,” he says, bending over his knees again. His hair falls into his face, a wreck from what my fingers and his hat did to it. “But I know you’re not like me. You have a plan and shit. And you’re a surprisingly good guy, at least for now.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means who knows what’s gonna happen to you once you start spending half your time in DC. They say power corrupts. And you’re still pretty innocent as far as I can tell.”
A huff of a disbelieving laugh escapes me. “I’ve had sex almost ten times now,” I tell him.
“Oh, well, then. Never mind.” He laughs, and it feels a little like a miracle.
“Porn is even involved. It’s very kinky.”
“Ugh. Stop. I don’t want to think about it.”
I smile and lean back on the couch. “I need coffee.”
“There’s not any here?”
“I make terrible coffee.”
“It’s pretty hard to mess up.”
“Tell that to anyone who’s ever had my coffee.”
“I’m willing to risk it,” Silas says.
“Your funeral,” I say, heading into the kitchen to make a pot of flavorless tar.