Chapter 3 #2
“Yes,” I told Alexio with a grin. “You needing gas? It was full before.”
“My baby takes a lot of fuel. Plus, I need a piss, and we’re hungry.”
We, meaning him and Micah. They must have been talking while I was asleep, and I felt a pulse of regret for having missed it. What did Alexio know now that I didn’t?
I probably had no rights to those possessive feelings in me, but it was hard to give a shit when I wanted Micah as badly as I did.
“Yes, same. I will eat horse.”
“I…okay,” Alexio said from behind a sigh.
“I say it wrong?”
He shook his head as he pulled up to a gas pump. The place had a sign boasting something about the best fried chicken from somewhere. I still wasn’t good with the English alphabet, but I got the gist.
“Okay. We go get table. You can put fuel in your baby and meet us,” I said, jumping out. I didn’t want to hear if Micah was going to reject me.
Waiting as patiently as I could, it took everything in me not to wrench the door open and yank him into my arms. Eventually, he did appear, one hand on the car, the other holding his cane so tightly his knuckles were yellow-white.
“Is there…problem?” I asked, stepping close to him.
He let out a small breath. “I don’t…can we not tell people? What happened?”
“You’re in the closet?”
He choked. “Oh my god. No. But…it’s complicated. I—” Micah was interrupted as Alexio appeared, loud enough with his footsteps it was obvious Micah had heard him.
“Do you need instructions? An invitation, maybe?” Alexio asked.
I flipped him off as I tapped Micah with my elbow, and after a long, hesitating moment, he took it. His grip was tight, nails digging into my skin, but I said nothing as we made our way inside.
The place was empty. I assumed not a lot of travelers came through on Thursday afternoons, which was great for us. The gas station was to the right, and the chicken place was to the left through a narrow hallway that opened up to a wide, dated-looking lobby.
“Okay. So I order some chicken,” I told him. “You want to come, or go sit at table, or—”
“I’m gonna sit,” Micah said, sounding exhausted.
Maybe he hadn’t slept either. Maybe he was up all night thinking about us. I let him go, and he found a booth big enough for three hockey players while I walked up to the server on her phone.
She couldn’t have been more than eighteen and looked entirely bored and irritated to see me. “So, like, can I help you?”
I smiled at her. “Yes. Give me…hmm. One family meal with some potatoes and mac and cheese. Some…what is that word? Coole…”
“Coleslaw,” she said, her voice toneless.
“Yes, that. Three drinks. Some of that bread. Biscuit? Some of those. I think that will be fine.”
She gave me a slow up and down, then put in the order, handed me three to-go cups, then took my card to tap it on her machine. The screen in front of me asked me for a tip, so I hit the button with the highest number on it, then took my receipt and all but threw myself into the space beside Micah.
He jolted. “Could you not?”
I should have felt bad, but I didn’t. I set the receipt on the table. “Why is bad people know about us?”
“Because.”
I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “My mama give me smacks if I say just because. You want smacks?”
“Are you offering to spank me?” he asked, his voice tight.
Oh. I could tell he liked that. He liked that idea a lot. But this wasn’t the place for it.
I swallowed heavily. “I just want to know. You’re embarrassed of me, or—”
“Jesus, fuck. Vanya.” He took off his sunglasses and pressed his hand over his face, letting out a soft groan. “Is there anyone in here?”
I glanced around. “Just workers.”
“And Alexio?”
Leaning over, I peered through the window and saw him cleaning his windshield with a fancy-looking cloth. “Is stroking his car.”
Micah choked on a laugh. “Vanya, that stain he found on the seat—”
“It was you. Or me. I thought I clean up better, but…no.”
He groaned. “Fuck. Okay. Look, if people think we’re together, they’re going to talk. They’re going to say things to make us both feel bad.”
“I don’t listen to people who don’t know me,” I said, waving him off.
“Everyone thinks I’m a slut. That I’m easy. They think I fuck anything that moves—”
I couldn’t help my laugh. “They don’t know you either.” I moved in a little closer and, feeling daring, rubbed the tip of my finger over his jawline. He let out a shuddering breath. “You’re not easy, pretty goalie. You’re tough. Difficult.”
He made a noise, and it was not a happy one. “I don’t mean to be.”
“No, no. I like it. Always like challenge. When it’s easy, is boring. You are not boring.”
“I have no idea what the fuck to say to that.”
“Just say you don’t regret me.”
“Vanya,” he murmured again. He turned his face to me, and I stared at his pretty, long, dark lashes that fanned over his cheeks and the very tiny eyelids above them.
Were they soft, I wondered? As soft as the rest of him? As tender?
“Micah?” I said when he didn’t go on.
“It can’t happen again, okay? It’s just…it’s not good for either of us.”
“Okay, but…” I held my tongue for a moment, trying to find the words.
“What?”
“Did I hurt you? Make you feel unsafe? Or scared? I know I can be too much—”
Without warning, Micah’s hand reached out, found my cheek, and he dragged me into a hard, deep, powerful kiss. His tongue pushed along mine, tasting every inch of my mouth before pulling back and panting against my cheek.
“You didn’t make me feel unsafe. At all. But that’s part of the problem. And I mean it. This can never happen again.”
I didn’t believe my pretty little goalie, but I also could respect his boundaries. When he pulled back for a final time, I shifted out of the booth seat and took the one across from him, getting up when the server called our number.
Alexio appeared a few minutes after that, and if he noticed tension between us, he didn’t say anything about it. He ate in relative silence, laughing a little when he got a text that was clearly from Jonah, but Micah didn’t ask, so I didn’t either.
I was too busy being distracted by my unending, overwhelming lust.
What I wanted was to pin Micah to the wall, to almost kiss him, to make him beg for it, only to remind him that not having was what he wanted. Then I would tell him I would be ready and waiting for him whenever he got over the thing holding him back.
But I didn’t.
Not even close.
Whatever was keeping him emotionally hostage seemed like a heavy weight on his shoulders, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to push him. I was unused to letting something go when I wanted it this badly, but for Micah, I could.
I could follow my stepmother’s advice and be patient for him.
And in the meantime, we could be friends. Or something like it.
Whatever he had room for in his life. It wouldn’t be easy, but I’d meant what I said when I told Micah I wasn’t here for easy things. I liked to work for what I had, and having him would be no different.
“So, uh,” Alexio said after a tense silence. “Your brother called while I was outside.”
Micah snorted. “Is that supposed to be news? You two are always licking up each other’s assholes.”
Alexio flushed, which made me realize it was probably true in some respect. I wouldn’t mind having a taste of Micah, but I wasn’t sure how long I was going to have to be patient, waiting for him again.
“He asked me to ask you—”
“Jesus Christ,” Micah interrupted from behind an almost-angry sigh. He pushed up to his feet. “This is so high school. I’m going to call him.”
He snagged his cane and whipped it in front of him, all but crashing into several tables before he found the door and let himself out. I watched him out the window for a moment, then went back to attacking my chicken.
“He’s pissed at me,” Alexio said after a long silence.
“No. He’s pissed at his brother,” I answered through a full mouth. “Don’t worry, he likes you.”
Alexio didn’t look like he believed me, but frankly, I didn’t care. “Their dad isn’t doing very well.”
My stomach sank. I was never emotionally close with my father, but I would be devastated to lose him. And I lived in perpetual fear of losing my stepmother. I knew Micah and Jonah weren’t close to their family. The whole situation the year before with their dad was…a lot.
And it was confusing.
But though Micah never spoke about it, I knew it was hurting him. He always got a look on his face when his dad came up in conversation. The look was even worse when it involved his mom.
I wasn’t surprised Micah hadn’t been to visit Peter, and a small part of me wondered if he disliked me because every now and again, I would go with Jonah when he checked up on him.
“Did he tell you what—” My words stopped when the door opened and Micah walked back into the restaurant. His brows were furrowed, and he looked a little lost. “You need help?”
He sighed, then made his way over, knocking into fewer tables this time. He reached the booth beside ours before realizing he was at the wrong spot, then shifted to the left and took the seat he’d abandoned before.
“Is everything okay?” I couldn’t help but ask.
He swallowed heavily. “Yeah. I…” For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “My, uh…Peter,” he said, like he couldn’t bring himself to call him father, “somehow got out today.”
Alexio winced. “Shit. I had a feeling, but Jonah didn’t want to say.”
“He is okay?” I asked.
Micah’s nose wrinkled. “I guess, yeah. One of the nurses found him at the gas station about a mile down the road. He’s back in his room now.”
I let out a breath and fought the urge to pull him close, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate a hug right now.
“Can we go?” Micah said after a tense moment of silence. “I want to get home.”
“Yeah,” Alexio said softly. “Let’s hit the road.”
Micah didn’t put up a fight when he took my arm and let me lead him back outside to the car. I hated watching him get into the back seat by himself. I wanted to be next to him. To pull him close. To have the right to openly comfort him because it was obvious he needed it.
But under Alexio’s annoyingly watchful eye, I couldn’t. I had to respect what Micah wanted, so I climbed into the seat, pretended like I wasn’t watching him through my little side mirror, and tried my best to forget the taste of him on my lips.
I failed, of course, but it didn’t matter.
He was worth it.