Chapter 22
MARK
Greg approaches us as I climb to my feet.
“Greg, it’s nothing,” I say.
I can tell by the way his eyebrows are coming together that he’s confused about what’s going on.
“Did he hit you?” he asks.
“What?”
“No, dude,” Brody says. “Just calm the fuck down. We’ve had enough drama tonight.”
“What happened?” Greg asks.
“Some of Brody’s friends wanted a little blow, and I can’t give it to them,” Tim explains. “They got weird about it.”
“Weird? Then why the fuck was Mark on the fucking ground?”
“One of them hit him,” Brody explains.
“Oh, that’s fucking rich. Mark,” Greg says. “What are you even doing talking to this scumbag?”
I see the moment when his confusion shifts to knowing.
He must be able to read the expression on my face because I have no desire to hide this from him. Although, I know it’s gonna get back to Keith in no time, and he’s going to be pissed as fuck when he finds out.
“So you guys are like what? An item now?”
“We’re boyfriends,” I say.
“Oh, boyfriends now. Wow. What the fuck are you doing? Is this my fault?”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Are you acting out because I screwed up? Because this isn’t worth it.”
“Fuck you. Not everything is about you, asshole.”
“You think I hurt you, but you’re running around with a guy who has a fucking knife out right now?”
Tim looks at his hand. The way he eyes it, it’s like he hadn’t even realized he still had it out. He closes his sling blade.
“Just be fucking careful, dude,” Greg says before spinning around and heading off.
“God, this is fucking insane,” Brody says and turns to us. “I am so fucking sorry, you guys.”
“You weren’t responsible for that,” I say. “Neither of you were.”
Tim avoids my gaze. I can tell he’s not letting either of them off the hook that easily, which makes me feel like crap because I don’t know how to get it through his thick skull that there wasn’t anything he could have done to stop what went down.
How could he have stopped it? I threw myself in the middle of a dangerous situation.
I was doing it to protect him, foolishly thinking that I could say something to calm down the guys who were obviously way too drunk and way too frustrated for me to reason with.
But knowing his temper, I figured he’d do little more than piss them off.
Regardless, at the end of the day, if anyone is to blame for what happened, it’s those assholes who went fucking apeshit on us, not him.
“You good?” Tim asks for what seems like the hundredth time as he leads me into my apartment.
“It was a punch.”
“A few of them.”
Silence.
“The hydrocodone you gave me helped,” I say because while the pressure in my face is still there, it doesn’t feel swollen as fuck.
“You just need to get in bed,” Tim says.
“I’m fine.”
“Mark, can you take it easy for me today? Please?”
“I can. Let me take a look at your injuries.”
We head into the bathroom, and I pull up his shirt, seeing the red welts on his torso where that asshole got him.
“Fuckin’ A,” he groans.
“Let me get you some frozen vegetables,” I say as I head out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.
“You need them just as much as I do,” Tim reminds me.
“Trust me, the way my fucking face is about to explode, I know I do.”
I grab a pack of peas and hand it to him. Then put a pack of corn on my face.
“Goddammit,” I hiss.
Brody gave us a ride back, and we plan to Uber to Tim’s bike tomorrow.
We head into the shower together, Tim clinging to me as though he nearly lost me tonight.
His grip is so tight.
“I’m fine,” I remind him.
“You scared the shit out of me. I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault. I know it was those assholes, but when I saw you lying there. For a minute, I was fucking terrified.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should’ve—”
“It was my decision to get in the way when those guys came out.”
But as I look at him, his expression cold, I know he’s just thinking about himself—that if this wasn’t the life he was leading, then this would never have happened to me.
“Hey, hey,” I say, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at me. “I’m here, and I’m okay.”
He looks over my face, like it looks more concerning than I realize.
He frowns and sets his hand on the side of my neck.
“If I could find those guys, I would—”
“Keep your cool because this isn’t something worth getting arrested over.”
He moves forward to kiss me, but I recoil.
“It’s gonna hurt,” I remind him.
His gaze shifts down as though he’s disappointed.
“Just be careful,” I urge.
He moves forward, inching his way to me until his lips are right in front of my forehead.
“This looks like a safe spot,” he says, offering a soft peck.
No pain. If anything, relief shoots from the place where his lips touch and radiates outward, offering ease to those parts of my face that feel like they’re fucking screaming, my nerves asking what the fuck I was doing tonight.
“How about here?” he asks when he moves to another spot, this time on my cheek.
He’s getting close to the painful spots, and I know it’s on purpose.
His light kiss offers a bit more ease. Or maybe that’s the hydrocodone working. Whatever the reason, I don’t want him to stop.
“And here?” he kisses my chin, and I close my eyes.
This reminds me of the day we were in the shower. When he said he wanted us to escape to our own little island.
I want that right now.
I want to have him close to me like this, offering these gentle kisses to me forever. Although I know I need the sex too.
“I know where you’re really not hurting,” his whispers, and his warm breath envelopes my face and brings me such ease.
He kisses down my neck and my body, licking and nipping as he makes his way to my cock, which grows as he nears it.
God, how does he fucking do this to me? How does he drive my body so fucking insane like this?
I relax as he does what he does best, and the way he pleases me mixed with the painkiller he gave me makes me forget about the pain in my face briefly as another pressure builds within my balls.