CHAPTER 13
Jordan
I love shopping just as much as the next gay man, but Jesus Christ, my arms are actually aching from carrying what feels like five thousand tonnes of clothes and blankets. Eric was adamant that we buy every single thing on Derek's list in multiples. I just left him to it and concentrated on what Blake is going to need. First thing I do is replenish his make-up products with some high-end things from Sephora, then I work on some outfits for him. I’m not sure how comfortable he is wearing typically feminine things, so I get him a mix of both. Some typical teenage black jeans, and then some bright shirts to go with them. Even threw in a crop top just in case he wants to try pushing his own boundaries. I’ll make sure he knows that he is always welcome to come raid my wardrobe.
Isn’t it funny how a few days ago I never knew this boy existed, yet now I’m stuffing bags and bags of personal shopping for him into the back of Eric's Audi—which, by the way, is not conducive to a major shopping trip. We even bickered in the store like an old married couple, and fuck me… I didn’t hate it. I watched him stuff his cart with thirty or more fluffy blankets, then head off to get pillows before completely wiping out the store’s stocks of deodorant.
He had his usual look of deep concentration on his face as we wove through the aisle. Even though I’m used to seeing that look at the office, I can tell that he only gets those deep wrinkles in his forehead when he’s trying to perfect something. And the fact that this ‘something’ is a donation to a shelter is causing some weird reaction inside me. Add to this how I’ve virtually adopted a teenager, and I’m almost freaking out at the strange sensations coursing through my body.
I bet this is what the Grinch felt like when that little Windy Woo girl doubled his heart and made him feel shit. I don’t like this at all. I do not want to have warm and fuzzies, so Eric needs to do the decent thing here and just turn into an asshole again.
“Do you think we should stop and grab maybe ten, twenty pizzas on the way?” Eric asks. “Teenagers do not turn down pizza and maybe it will give the chef guy a night off.”
His suggestion is decidedly un asshole. I couldn’t even stop the loud tut that escapes my mouth if I tried. Why does he have to be so fucking great? Maybe I need to be the asshole first. Like, get a momentum going.
“I’m not paying for them,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest, looking and sounding like a petulant child. Wasn’t really what I was going for, but it works.
“Nobody asked you to pay, brat. So you better suck that lip back in before I lean over and bite it.”
He gives his warning in that gruff tone I love. He sounds like he's been chewing gravel, and it's hot . I have to quickly adjust my dick in my jeans before he sees what he’s done to me. What the fuck even was that? Sure, we flirt in the office, but it's never as blatant as this. I really need to work on being more… unattractive? Impossible. I’ll have to think of something else to put him off.
“You can’t call me brat outside the bedroom, Dimples.” My caution is stern, and I point one of my painted talons at him, but the fucker just laughs and gives me that big wide smile—dimples and all.
“Pretty sure I just did. Now, hush up and find me the best pizza joint around here.”
I scoff at his reply, but still pull out my phone and fire up Google. I’m looking for the place with the best reviews, but it’s gotta be close enough to the shelter so the damn pizzas aren’t cold as a witch's tit by the time we get them to the kids. I shoot a quick text to let Derek know the plan.
“Maybe we should talk to Blake about buying him a new phone, or organizing a new number at least? I doubt his brother has the smarts to trace him or anything, but Blake shouldn't have to read any vile messages he might send him, you know?” I’m babbling absentmindedly, too busy connecting my phone to Eric's bluetooth so Google Maps can give him directions and I don't have to.
Eric nods and taps the steering wheel, much like he taps his pen on the desk when he's thinking. Fuck me, when did I start cataloging all of his idiosyncrasies? I had no idea I knew this much about him. It’s because we work so closely together. That's all it is. Although, if I think about it, between all the hours at the office and our very frequent play dates, I've probably spent more time with Eric than I have with any other man in my entire life. Yeah, I really don't want to think about that.
“That’s a good idea. Maybe he already has his brother blocked, but it won’t stop him trying to contact him from another number—one of his bozo friends, maybe. Blake doesn’t need that bullshit, but at the same time we can’t force him to do anything or we’ll become just another couple of adults bossing him around. I don’t want to be that for him.”
Eric is right. I certainly do not want to come across as some pushy, judgmental parent figure, and the fastest way to do that would be to second guess his choices.
“You know, I admire the fuck out of this kid. What happened to him would put grown ass men into a tailspin, but I guess when they say kids are resilient, they mean it. He bounced back so fast. Maybe too fast.”
I ponder for a second if Roman has managed to get a resident counselor in for the kids while he's finishing his own studies. Hopefully Blake is open to talking to somebody. I have a feeling that kid is carrying so much more than any of us even realize. The abuse we saw the other night was probably just the tip of the iceberg. We still don’t even know where his parents are, if he even has any, or if they give a fuck about him.
All of this makes me equally mad and sad. I bet if I told my folks about him, they would snatch him up and roll him in so much love he would suffocate. They have always wanted to be grandparents, so maybe this is a good compromise. Wait. Is that weird? Is Blake likely to think I'm some weirdo if I ask him if he wants to be adopted by my parents? I would make a much better big brother than a father figure.
“Who says he even wants to be adopted at all?” Eric asks, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Shit, did I say that out loud?” I wince immediately, but it’s just a reflex. In all truth, I’m really not bothered. It’s better to discuss these things out loud, anyway.
Eric laughs. “I’m used to you muttering to yourself. I figure it keeps you focused, so I’ve never brought it up.”
That's… kind of sweet, actually. Dammit, he really needs to stop with this bullshit. I do not want to wife this man up, but right now it feels like he isn't giving me a choice. He's wicked smart, funny as hell, sexy as sin and accepts my fiendish quirks as the norm. Not to mention he is an absolute demon in bed. I smirk at myself as I realize what I did there. Clearly, the devil on my shoulder is steering this ship.
“Well, I can ask him, can’t I? Or would that be weird? My parents would give him so much love he’d be drowning in it. I hate the thought that his poor kid has never had that in his life. Although we don’t actually know that much about him. Maybe his parents loved him dearly and they died in a horrible accident and he was left with his homophobic asshole brother.” I have to suck in a huge gulp of air after spewing that out. I’m spiraling. I need to do a few breathing exercises or something.
Eric's hand lands heavy on my thigh and I suddenly feel silence descend on me. All my worries and concerns still for a moment as I stare at the fingers sprawled over my leg. That damn paw of his is massive. With a light dusting of hair on skin that has spent many days in the sun. I can’t see his tattoos right now, but I know they are there. I practically have them memorized at this point.
My gaze flicks up to his exceptionally handsome face. His designer stubble is just a little longer than usual. I remember how that feels against my skin, and for some crazy reason I want to kiss him. I want to feel that scratch on my face as we devour each other. Wouldn't that just be the icing on the cake? I’m shaken out of my thoughts when he smiles and chuckles to himself, still keeping his eyes on the road.
“Take a breath, Jordan. Nobody, especially Blake, is expecting you to fix all of his issues overnight, and he certainly doesn’t expect you to try and rewrite history. All he needs you to do is be there for him if and when he needs you. So settle that busy brain down while I go grab the pizzas, okay?”
His tone is warm and feels like a big hug. He's not judging me, he isn't calling me crazy. He’s… calming me, and fuck if I’m not too stunned to even speak. I just nod at his instructions and watch as he climbs out of the car and jogs into the pizza place.
I take a deep breath, then another. My eyes track Eric's movement inside the shop. He's chatting with the guy that works there. He has this ability to feel relaxed in any room. Like he knows that no matter who he is talking to, he can relate to them in some way or another. Makes him a fantastic attorney and an amazing guy. I know I’m lucky to have him in my life. The arrangement we have works for both of us. So why does my fucking heart keep trying to tell me that I want more all of a sudden? This is not cool. Even if I did want that, Eric doesn’t, and there is no fucking way I am going down the path of unrequited love…
Ewwwww, who the fuck said love? I’m losing my mind; there is no other explanation for such demented notions. I do not do love . I think I’m going to have to add that to my daily affirmations, because I'm pretty sure I’m watching my boss with cartoon heart eyes and that is a one-way trip to unemployment.