Chapter 4
Evan
After Luca and Grave leave the apartment, I’m extremely grateful to Dream for keeping my mind from obsessing about what I almost did with Luca. I think Dream somehow senses my near panic and is determined to keep me from spiraling.
“So there I was, down on my knees, deepthroating my boyfriend’s big, beautiful cock.” Dream lowers to the ground and does a hilarious and accurate pantomime of performing a blowjob. “When in walks Corina.”
“Who’s Corina?” I ask, totally caught up in the story.
Dream’s eyes go theatrically big. “His mother,” he hisses.
I laugh, and the sound of it startles me. I can’t remember the last time I laughed at something, even a funny show or movie, let alone sharing a laugh with someone.
It feels nice. Really nice. Plus, it’s good to know someone else has an awkward blowjob story. I’m not sharing mine, though.
“You guys should stay for dinner,” I blurt out, and as soon as the invite comes out of my mouth, I regret it. Just because Dream is being nice to me doesn’t mean he wants to spend his whole night off from work with my awkward ass.
I rush to fix my mistake. “But I’m sure you already have other—”
“Of course, I’m staying,” Dream says. He rises from the floor gracefully and hip-bumps me.
“But thanks for the official invite, so we can both pretend I’m not a snoopy bastard who invaded your house and won’t leave until I get all the gossip about all the obvious sexual tension going on between my new bestie and his sexy bodyguard. ”
“Th—there’s nothing going on, I stammer, dropping eye contact with Dream and studying the linoleum floor because I’m a terrible liar.
Dream uses his index finger to push my chin up to eye level. “Fine.” Dream lets out a frustrated sigh. “Keep your secrets—for now—but I’m putting my name and number on speed dial in your phone. One of these days you’ll need to spill the tea and get some of my wonderful relationship advice.”
“There’s no—”
“Shhh.” Dream bops my nose. “No lies between besties. Let’s warm up this feast and get it on the table. He gives me a mischievous smile. “Wait till you see what I brought for dessert.”
While I put the trays of food in the oven and Dream busies himself with folding the linen napkins he brought with them into miniature chickens and placing them with a flourish on each plate, the shame spiral Dream had postponed with his stream of consciousness comes back full force.
I can’t believe I sank to my knees with every intention of sucking Luca’s cock. I let my attraction to him flare up and totally misconstrued his attempt to stop me from going to the mailbox on my own as a sexual connection.
When Luca’s large hand wrapped around my neck, I felt a strange pairing of safety and desire that left me shaking for more, and I let it carry me away into going to my knees for him.
Thank God for the interruption. I would have had to look up at Luca as he shoved me away from him with a look of hatred—or worse, pity—on his face.
Don’t think about it. Hopefully, by the time Grave and Dream leave, I can find a way to apologize to him. Familiar shame rises in me. More likely, I’ll slink off to hide in my bedroom, and tomorrow, I’ll pretend it never happened.
“Good, you’re back,” Dream says, looking up at his boyfriend as he and Luca come through the door. “We’re staying for dinner. It can be a double date.”
Luca’s face freezes into a mask. Oh God. Kill me now.
“Dream,” Grave growls in a light warning.
“Hah. Just kidding,” Dream says with a wink. “But—” He pulls out a bottle of tequila, what looks like red-colored salt, and a cup of limes from a bag he’d hidden under the table. “I also brought dessert, so who knows what might happen between you two after a couple of body shots.”
Desperately needing to change the subject, I pick up the bottle of red salt and read the label out loud. “Tajín,” I pronounce the word with a hard J, rhyming with gin and tonic.
“It’s Tajín,” Dream says, with a soft H sound—Tuh-heen. You haven’t had it with tequila before?”
“I’ve never had tequila before.”
“I’m sorry. I should have asked you before if you drank. I know better.”
“I don’t not drink,” I tell him truthfully.
I had just started to come out of my shyness during my freshman year of college.
I drank a few beers and smoked a few joints at the few parties I‘d gone to, but I hadn’t experimented any further.
Then, the fire happened, and my father exiled me to Chicago.
The rumors about me being an arsonist had followed me here and didn’t exactly encourage many party invites.
After a while, I’d become used to being a recluse with no social life other than hookups.
This might be my chance to make up for a lost experience. “I want to try it,” I declare.
“You sure about that?” Luca says.
My irritation at his bossiness helps me temporarily overcome my embarrassment about earlier, and I’m finally able to look him in the eyes. “Are you protecting me from hangovers now?”
“Nope,” he says. He puts his hand out and points to the bottle. “Dig your own grave.”
Tension arcs between us, and I swear I can feel the energy around us sparking.
“Not till after dinner,” Dream says, looking between us. “I can’t handle all this sexual tension with an empty stomach. Let’s eat.”
Even with the tension between Luca and me, dinner is nice—more than nice.
The last time I sat around a dinner table was with my family.
Since then, I’d only had Delilah for company while I ate on the couch as she begged for table scraps.
Dream’s stories of his life as a waiter and graphic novel artist kept me laughing and from focusing only on Luca.
“Time for dessert,” Dream declares, pouring four shot glasses full of tequila and passing them out to each of us. He turns to me. “Okay, rookie. Follow my lead.”
I nod and watch him carefully.
“Lick your hand.” I follow his instructions, and then he sprinkles a liberal amount of Tajín where I’d licked. The others do the same. “Now lick the Tajín off your hand and take the shot.”
I do as Dream says and enjoy the spiciness of the Tajín before the tequila goes down like a fire in my throat, bringing tears to my eyes
“Now suck the lime,” Dream orders, and somehow the citrus smooths the burn.
I look up at the table. “Good,” I manage to cough out in a voice that sounds like I have a four-packs-a-day habit.
Dream and Grave laugh, but Luca just stares at me.
“What?” I demand defensively.
“You missed some of the Tajín,” he says, his voice deep and rough.
I flick out my tongue to search for the Tajín. As I lick it from my upper lip, Luca tracks the movement. His brown eyes darken in a way that reminds me of earlier when he stopped me from going to the mailbox.
Stop it. You’re imagining things again.
By the third shot, the tequila goes down easier, and a plan forms in my pleasantly hazy brain. By the fourth shot, I realize it will take about one more shot to reach the stage when I can carry out said plan. When I reach for the bottle, Luca whisks it away. “Hey!”
“You’ll thank me tomorrow,” he says, standing up and putting the tequila on top of my tall kitchen cabinets that only giants like him and Grave can reach without the help of a step stool.
“That’s probably a good idea, considering you’re a rookie,” Dream chimes in. “Puking in someone’s belly button totally ruins the sexiness of a body shot.” He gives me a serious side-eye. “Trust me.”
I need that fifth shot.
“It’s been a blast, new bestie,” Dream announces. “But it’s late, and tequila always makes me horny.” He winks at Grave, who smiles at him. “It’s time for my boyfriend to take me home and make me scream his name.”
We all get up, and I want to tell Dream how much actually making a friend means to me, but the words stick in my throat.
After watching me struggle, Dream’s face fills with compassion.
“I get it. I know what it’s like to be lonely,” he whispers in my ear.
Then he hugs me, which I try to mimic with awkwardly splayed arms.
Luca walks them out to the elevator, which is finally working because of Luca’s conversation with the landlord. While he’s out in the hallway, I push the dinette chair to the cupboard, retrieve the tequila, and chug back my fifth shot.
Luca walks in on me mid-swig. His blazing glare burns more than the fire of the tequila down my throat.
I put back the bottle and jump off the chair.
“You’re going to regret that in the morning.”
“No. I’m not.”
He gives a disbelieving snort.
“Even if I feel awful tomorrow, I don’t care. I wanted that shot.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed the courage to do this.” I march toward him, only a little unsteadily, and then I’m standing right in front of him, so close I can feel his breath on me.
I lick my lips, and I swear I hear a low growl come from him, but it must be the tequila fucking with my head. Whatever, as long as it gives me the courage to do this, I’ll cope. I lean closer. “I need to apologize to you.”
His brow furrows. “Apologize?”
I nod. “I’ve been awful to you. I shouldn’t have screamed at you. I shouldn’t have called you those names, shouldn’t have—” I try to finish the sentence. I really do, but I can’t get the words “I shouldn’t have tried to suck your cock” out.
Luca’s fists curl beside him, and he regards me with an intensity that makes my nerves fire throughout my body. “Shouldn’t have what?” he prompts.
“I shouldn’t have made it so easy for you to hate me,” I whisper, then turn and flee to my room before he can stop me.