Chapter 23
JAMIE
My stomach has been growling since Tyler texted me about the pizza. Which is why I’m in a hurry to get home. It’s not because I’ve been thinking about Tyler all day, unable to focus, watching the clock tick painfully slowly. Nope, not at all. I’m just famished.
I quicken my stride. Thinking of pizza. Pizza. Hot, mouthwatering pizza that strokes my cheek and kisses me goodbye and—
Ugh, dammit. I’m hopeless.
Which is proven as I hastily fumble for my phone when it starts to ring, a grin splitting my face.
“Hey, sorry! I’ll be five minutes. Got held up at work.”
“Jamie?”
I stop in my tracks. My stomach sinks. Oh.
I pull the phone from my ear, staring, dumbfounded, at the caller ID which I stupidly didn’t check.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, darling. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
Any time is a bad time.
“It’s okay. I’m just going home from work.”
“Good, good. Well, I’m glad I finally got a hold of you.” The way she says it isn’t bitter. It’s not even guilt-tripping. It’s…disappointed, and that somehow cuts deeper. “How have you been?”
“Good. Busy. Sorry I haven’t called.” It may have been intentional, but that doesn’t mean it felt great. I do keep in touch via texts here and there, despite knowing how much Mom dislikes them.
“Even if you don’t call, it would be nice if you could check in once in a while. Let us know you’re okay.”
It should be sweet, knowing that your parents worry about you. Except Mom worries about one specific thing—as in, the fact that I’m into dick and someone might bash my head in for it, while somehow managing to ignore my sexuality altogether.
“You don’t need to stress. The city is safe, especially this area.”
There’s a short pause—probably Mom deciding if she should push the topic further or give up.
“That’s...good.” I hear her sigh. “You still like the new place, then? Your roommates are treating you nicely?”
You have no idea. “I only have one roommate, and I couldn’t wish for a better one.” He’s sweet and considerate, and hot as hell. Oh, and he dicks me down on the regular. I leave that bit of information out. Seems sensible.
“Right. I forgot, sorry.” There’s another voice in the background. “I’m on the phone with Jamie! You wanna say something to him, dear?” I hear a mumbled answer before Mom sighs again. “Dad says hi,” she says predictably. “He’s been trying to fix the Honda.”
“Again?” How many times has it died now? Five? Six? “Is it even safe to drive anymore?”
“You know your dad. He has a hard time letting go of things. He’s attached to that dumb machine.”
Funny, he didn’t say much when I was leaving. Which is a good thing, anyway. Mom cried a lot when I told her I’d be moving out, not just out of the house but the town as well, and it made me feel like an asshole.
“Well, sometimes you just need to move on.”
“You could tell him that yourself.” Aaand here we go. “When are you coming to visit? We haven’t seen you in ages.”
“You have. We’ve videocalled.”
“In person.”
“Maybe when I get licensed. I shouldn’t really miss any classes. I’m almost done. And then I need to take two different exams.” I might be using it as an excuse, but I’m telling the truth. This isn’t a good time to get distracted and take time off.
Another sigh. “Guess we can wait a couple more months.”
It’s not as if I don’t want to see my parents.
I do miss them, but I know that the minute I set foot in that town, in that house, old memories will slam into me like an avalanche.
I just started coming to terms with who I am, working through all the shameful feelings and beliefs (I can thank one special person for that).
I don’t want to be thrown back into the pit I finally managed to crawl out of.
“It’s a shame, though,” Mom says. “Do you know who just came back?”
That could be literally anyone. “No?”
“Cassie!” Mom announces with elation. “She’s back from the UK. Brought a degree with her, of course. We joined the Hendricksons for lunch last weekend.”
“Oh. That’s…great,” I say as I reach for my keys, almost home now.
Cassie and I were close in high-school, and she’d come over a lot.
She was different from my other classmates who were happy in their little bubbles.
She was eager to learn new things and discover the world.
We used to talk about studying abroad, although our motivations differed.
Where Cassie simply wanted to try something new and challenge herself, I just wanted to escape. Anywhere.
She was upset when I told her I wouldn’t be going with her, both for personal and financial reasons, and we lost touch. But she did give me a push to do something with my life, so a year later I bought a one-way ticket to Seattle.
Since we used to spend so much time together, it made sense that my parents had high hopes for what we could become (and I guess Cassie did too). My coming out didn’t seem to deter them in the slightest.
And clearly, nothing has changed.
“I’m sure she would love to see you after all this time. ” Mom says. Subtlety isn’t her strong point. “She’s still single, you know?”
I feel a familiar ache grow in my chest. After years of having this huge part of me ignored and rejected, it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. It’s almost…numb, which sucks on a whole different level. Like a tiny black hole inside my heart where I throw all the unwanted feelings and memories.
“Good on her.” I let myself into the lobby and head for the elevator. “Look, Mom, I need to go. I’m getting in the elevator and will probably lose reception. I’ll make sure to call next time, I promise.”
“Jamie, wait—”
“Bye.”
I hang up. Cowardly, I know, but I refuse to feel bad for protecting my peace. Especially now that I’ve actually found it. Found a place where I’m free to be myself. Where I’m accepted, seen.
The phone call has left a bad taste in my mouth, and there’s a telltale pressure building behind my eyesockets, but those sensations take a backseat when I walk into the apartment.
Somehow, the smell of melted cheese combined with the sight of Tyler in the kitchen plating up pizza slices has the superpower of curing all your woes.
Or maybe it’s that he’s wearing my apron. And no shirt. Or pants.
There’s a chance I’m asleep and dreaming because the scene does seem familiar. Nah, can’t be. He’s still wearing underwear. That’s not right.
“Uh… I’m home?”
Tyler looks up, beaming. “Hey! Just in time. I’ve been slaving all evening.”
I walk to the kitchen, stopping in front of the island on the other side. “Slaving?”
“Mhm,” Tyler hums, licking off a bit of sauce that got on his thumb. Fuck me. “Kneaded the dough by hand. Simmered the sauce for hours. Very rustic. Very authentic.”
I press my lips together, a laugh bubbling inside me. God, how does this man always manage to take every crappy thing that happens and make it fade into background noise the second I walk through the door?
“Right.” Expression impassive, I reach for the discarded pizza box on the floor. “Forgot to get rid of the evidence.” Not to mention that he texted me to ask what pizza I wanted. The goof.
Tyler gasps. “That’s been there for weeks. You’re just confused.”
“Oh sorry, my mistake.”
“You’re forgiven.”
He winks, and this time the laugh bursts out of me. Fuck, I’m falling so hard for him, there’s no way I’ll survive the landing.
Who am I kidding—I’ve already fallen. Landed hard, too. I’m practically a pancake now.
My stomach chooses this moment to make a loud announcement.
I blush, and Tyler chuckles. “Ditto.” He unties the apron, so all that’s left are his briefs. After everything we’ve done, I still get hot and bothered from seeing so much of his skin. “Can you grab the drinks from the fridge and pick something to watch? I’ll be right over with the rest.”
“Sure.”
I carry our sodas to the couch and turn the TV on.
I don’t have to think too hard about what to watch—we have been making our way through the Netflix catalogue of K-dramas, so I just click on the next one that gets suggested.
He joins me a minute later, sitting down next to me, our thighs touching.
He’s been doing this for a while now, and I have yet to stop blushing like a character from one of the shows.
“What’s this one about?”
“Dunno. I didn’t read the synopsis.”
“Living dangerously. I like that.” He clinks our bottles together, and I laugh, then reach for the pizza.
The first bite is perfect—gooey and hot and exactly what I needed. See? I was famished.
The opening credits roll, and I try to make myself comfy on the couch, which is quite challenging today for some reason. Case in point, I manage to kick Tyler in the process of getting my legs under me.
“Sorry!”
“You’re fine.” He gives a soft laugh. “Here, let me.”
Before I can ask what that means, he shifts. One hand hooks gently around my ankle and he lifts my legs like they weigh nothing, draping them over his lap. He rests his arm on my thighs, so casually that my lovesick brain can’t help but read a hundred different meanings into it.
“There,” he says, proud and satisfied. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
Better? It’s terrible. Very, very bad. “W-well, I…”
“Let me know if you need to switch positions.” He takes a bite of his pizza, focusing on the TV.
Heat crawls up my neck. My face burns. I’m very aware of the solid warmth of him under my legs. The way his hand rests there absentmindedly, thumb tracing slow, idle patterns through the fabric of my pants. Like we do this all the time. Like this is who we are.
A couple.
Because sex is one thing, but this…eating takeaway on the couch, sharing space, touching without thinking about it, him rearranging me like I’m his…
My chest aches. Tyler doesn’t know that when he touches me like this, it feels like hope.
Because I want this. God, I want this. Not just the pizza or the banter or the taking pleasure in each other’s bodies. I want the casual certainty of it. The right to sit like this and not question it.