Chapter 12
Dante
Nerves buzz low in my stomach as I knock on Theo’s door. “It’s open!” he yells.
I frown as I let myself in. The living room is empty, but I hear him moving around down the hallway. “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked,” I call, loud enough to carry as I set the pizza box on his kitchen table.
“Yeah, yeah,” he yells back. “I watched you pull in, so I unlocked it as you were walking up. Don’t worry, I’m not being an idiot.”
Footsteps pad closer. I turn to find him standing there in loose, low-hanging cotton pants and a cropped sweatshirt that leaves a tempting strip of skin bare. My eyes drift down his slender stomach for a heartbeat before flicking back to his face.
“Better not be,” I say, voice a little rougher than I intend.
He’s chewing on his nails, and I step over and gently pry his hands away from his mouth. I guide them up to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “You’ll mess up the paint if you don’t stop that.”
He spreads his fingers, staring at the chipped blue polish. “That just gives me an excuse to redo them. I’ll paint yours, too.”
“Something tells me I can’t pull it off as well as you do.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he says, eyes lighting up. “A nice, deep red would look killer on you. We’ll call it Dante’s Inferno—”
“Pretty sure that’s copyrighted,” I point out.
“Well, if we choose the right color, the next time you punch someone the blood won’t even show.”
“Valid point,” I deadpan, “except I don’t plan on making people bleed on the regular.”
“That’s a pity,” he muses, tilting his head as his eyes meet mine again. “It was awfully sexy watching you protect me.”
The air shifts, and suddenly things are heavier. I don’t step back. Instead, I let my thumb trace slow circles over the back of his hand, feeling the way his pulse jumps under my touch. “If you’re not careful, I might start thinking you want a repeat performance.”
“Maybe I do,” he says, eyes flicking to my mouth for a second before returning to mine. “Just… without the part where someone tries to hurt me.”
“Nobody’s going to hurt you when I’m around.”
Theo pulls his hand from mine and pats me on the chest. “I know they won’t.” He smiles again before stepping around me, seeming unaware of what that easy trust does to me.
“What kind of pizza did you get?” he asks as he pops the box open. “Ooh, Hawaiian! But… don’t you hate pineapple on pizza?”
I grab plates from the cabinet, dropping a kiss to the top of his head as I pass. “Yes. But out of the list of crazy things I’m willing to do for you, picking a few pieces off isn’t a big deal.”
“It’s a big deal to me,” he says, voice quiet. When I look down at him, he pushes up on his toes and kisses me before I realize what he’s doing.
Fireworks explode across my body as my arms instinctively find their way around his waist. The sweetest little happy hum escapes his throat as he pulls my bottom lip between his, giving it the gentlest suck.
Then, just as quickly, he drops back onto flat feet and grabs a slice.
He walks to the couch like his world didn’t just implode, while my knees have turned to jelly.
“What memory were you erasing with that one?” I tease, trying to hide how much it affected me.
He glances over his shoulder. “The one you’re forming right now—the torture of having to eat my pineapple pizza.”
“Working efficiently, I see,” I say, trying and failing to smother the grin that tugs at my lips. I grab a slice and follow him to the couch. He settles cross-legged, utterly focused on his food, while I let my eyes drift over him once more. “Did you decide against the Sailor Moon outfit?”
A beaming smile splits his face. “I thought it might distract you.”
“Oh, it would definitely distract me,” I mutter.
“It’ll just have to stay on my Fucket List for later.”
I choke on the bite I’ve just taken. “Your… Fucket List?”
“Yeah. It’s a Bucket List, but, y’know… for sex.”
“And there are, uh, other things on this Fucket List?” I ask, pretending the question is perfectly natural for a friend.
His lips twitch as he lifts the slice of pizza back toward his mouth. “So many things,” he says in an exceptionally breathy whisper. “Sweet things. Sexy things.” He leans in close, wiggling his eyebrows. “Strange things.”
We laugh, and it eases some of the nerves twisting in my stomach. We continue to chat as we eat, falling back into the relaxed, easy-going rhythm we’ve always shared. Once we finish, he collects our plates, sets them in the sink, and returns to the couch.
He stretches out, revealing another glimpse of that pale skin as he rests the back of his head against my thigh. “So, what’s the story behind the fighting?”
I hesitate for a moment, combing my fingers through his hair as I gather my thoughts.
“Before you and I met, I was in a relationship with a man named Trent. He was a few years older than me, and when we were introduced, I was still figuring out who I was. I hadn’t even put a label on my sexuality yet. ”
Theo’s watching me intently, and when our eyes meet, he offers me a sweet, encouraging smile.
“Earlier in my life, I only dated women, but looking back, I think that was mostly because that was what everyone expected. There was attraction, sure, but something was always a little… off. The relationships never lasted.”
I draw in a soft breath and continue. “Once I realized I was drawn to men, I figured I must be bisexual, but that label didn’t feel right either.
While my friends were dating and hooking up and experimenting, none of it appealed to me.
I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. That’s when Trent and I met.
We started as friends and spent a lot of time together platonically, and eventually it became more.
He was the one who helped me understand that I’m demisexual, and that the attraction I had felt was always around people I was close to. Suddenly everything made sense.”
“Casual relationships never worked for me. Attraction only ever came after I already considered someone a friend. The label made me feel seen for the first time… like there wasn’t anything broken in me after all.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Theo whispers from my lap.
I smile down at him, still threading my fingers through his hair.
“Trent made me believe he was perfect,” I say quietly.
“He always knew exactly what to say and what to do. He was so patient while I was figuring out my sexuality, and he never pushed me. Eventually he asked if I was ready for a real relationship.”
My cheeks warm and I glance away, the words growing a little clumsier on my tongue.
“My experience was… limited. I’d been with a few women when I was younger, and I’d fooled around with a couple of guys back when I still couldn’t understand why everything felt so wrong.
I let that lack of experience, that lack of confidence, blind me.
I didn’t see what was happening until it was too late. ”
A quiet moment stretches between us. I close my eyes, the old years with Trent flickering behind my lids. When I open them again Theo and I are face to face, his concern written clearly across his features.
“I’ve never told the whole story to anyone before,” I admit.
His hands cradle my face, fingers tracing gentle patterns across my skin. “You don’t have to tell me anything you aren’t comfortable sharing.”
I shake my head, trying to return his smile. “After what happened with Jesse, you deserve to hear my history… to know you aren’t alone. It’s important, Theo, even if it’s hard. I need you to understand why I am the way I am… why I’m…”
“Perfect?” he whispers, the word so close it makes my heart leap.
“Broken.” I swallow roughly and close my eyes, leaning into his touch. He curls into my chest, still stroking me with those gentle fingers until I find the courage to continue.
“We took our time with the physical side of our relationship, but once it started, he was the one calling the shots. Always in control. Since I had no idea what I was doing, I just… went along with it. There was never any real choice, no discussion about roles or what I might want. It was simply understood that he would always top.”
My chest rises on a deep, unsteady breath as I push through the humiliation.
“He wasn’t concerned with making it good for me,” I say, my voice thin.
“There was no prep, barely any lube. I think his goal was to make it hurt. I’d never bottomed before…
I didn’t know what to expect. The first time we had sex, I bled for hours afterward. ”
Theo tenses against me, his fingers tightening on my chest, but he remains silent.
“I knew it felt wrong—of course I did. But I did nothing. I just accepted it. It didn’t matter if I was uncomfortable or in pain.
He took what he wanted from me, then praised me afterward like I was the most amazing person he’d ever met. ”
“The insults started slow. Little ones at first, insignificant comments about how I’d done something wrong or how I didn’t look great that day.
Nothing alarming enough to raise any real warning.
But over time it grew worse. He would spend the entire day tearing me down until I was desperate for his praise.
I endured the pain in silence just to hear those few kind words…
just to feel like I was something. Anything. ”
Tears well up, and I fight them back. “It was fucking pitiful… I was so fucking pitiful.”
Theo sits up again, taking in the emotion on my face. “There is not one single thing that’s pitiful about you, Dante. None of his abuse or manipulation is a reflection of you.”
I manage a weak smile, eyes still glistening with unshed tears, and nod. “Most of the time, I recognize that. I do. But sometimes…” I trail off.
He leans forward, pressing one more kiss to my lips.
I melt into it. This time his mouth is more insistent, and he swipes the lightest brush of his tongue against mine.
My stomach swoops, a rush of longing and want pooling low in my belly until all reason slips away.
When he finally pulls back and cuddles into my chest once more, my heart is thrashing wildly behind my ribs.
It’s desperate for more, knowing what it wants and knowing it can’t have it.
“You’re going to kill me with those, you know.”
“Just saw a chance to erase another bad memory,” he whispers.
I tug him closer, and we sit together in silence for a few minutes.
“Things kept getting worse, until one day he moved from shouting and screaming to laying hands on me. The first time he slapped me, we had been dating for over a year. I can’t remember what set him off, only the shock of realizing he had actually hit me. ”
“I wish I could say I had a moment of clarity and walked away, but that’s not what happened.
I stayed for almost another year. The slaps turned into punches, and sex became just another chance for him to take his aggression out on me.
He…” I pause, swallowing past the lump tightening in my throat as I swipe at the tear threatening to fall.
“He marked me. He’d use his cigarette to burn me in…
intimate places. Said it was so anyone who saw me afterward would know I was damaged. ”
“Dante,” Theo whispers. When I glance down, tears shine in his eyes to match my own.
“One day I woke up and realized I had nothing left to lose. I didn’t even have music anymore, because he had drained that out of my life too.
There was a gym I passed every day on my way to work, and one Friday evening after he’d taken his temper out on me again, it was the first place I thought of.
I don’t know what possessed me to go there, but I did.
I showed up at the door with a black eye and a swollen lip, and the owner recognized exactly what was happening. ”
“Jugs taught me how to fight and how to protect myself. He mended my wounds and gave me pep talks every single day… even offered to let me move in with him so he could keep me safe. I had to do it myself, though. I needed to find the strength to walk away on my own two feet, so I waited. For a few more months I endured it all—the insults, the bruises, the painful sex.”
“One afternoon Trent swung at me, and I’d had enough. Something inside me snapped. I caught his fist in my hand, and I’ll never forget the shock on his face when I hit him back and knocked him to the ground.”
Another rough swallow works its way down my throat.
“Every time he got up, I knocked him right back down. Over and over, I punched him until his face was bloody and swollen. I completely lost control, Theo. And after I’d beaten him so badly he couldn’t get off the floor, I packed my bags while he lay there moaning and crying, still telling me I’d never do any better than him. ”
“I took my things, changed my number, and found an apartment all in the same day. I slept on an air mattress for weeks until I could afford furniture, but I was finally free. I could breathe again. Eric moved in next door a few months later, and the rest… well, the rest you know.”