Evans #3
“Of course, we were at Oakley around the same time. I was nearing the end of my PhD when he first entered.” There’s a thoughtful pause before we share a look. “He has a brilliant mind for business, less so for people.”
That was an understatement.
“What are you two plotting?” Lyle barks, and I turn to see the twins crouched down looking at something in the mud, poking at the ground with a stick.
“Nothing,” They singsong together, giggling and nudging one another.
“Evans,” he sighs, looking wearily at me, “Does that look like plotting to you?”
When we return to the Ashbourne cabin, Ivii and Percy are sunbathing out on the decking while Diane sits under a parasol, crocheting something that kind of looks like an octopus.
The twins rush to their mother, eager to show them the collection of sticks, leaves and rocks they’d collected on the hike. There was even the occasional squashed, wilting flower in amongst their treasures.
“I thought you were heading into town with Hunter,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual as I drop down into a seat on the other side of Ivii. My mouth feels dry, like I've been eating dust.
“We’re going tomorrow instead.” Percy replies with that melodic voice of his, leaning up on his elbows. He’s wearing a tiny pair of cream coloured shorts, his perfect skin shimmering with sunblock. “He’s in the flow with his painting.”
Something like relief unfurls in my chest, only to be replaced by a sliver of jealousy.
I hate how he sounds as if he’s familiar with Hunter and his habits. What did this omega know that I didn’t? I was his best friend and his housemate. A one-night stand couldn’t top that. At least, not yet. He wasn’t Hunter’s boyfriend.
“Ahhh. He’s lost track of reality again,” I say with a wry smile. I’d hoped that might happen. The signs were all there when I’d left the cabin earlier.
Percy slips his sunglasses down his nose to watch me over the rims. “Does that happen often?
“Sometimes we don’t see him for days. He reappears eventually covered in paint, looking a little manic.
” I don’t add that he also usually stinks, sweat and pheromones clinging to him alongside turpentine, or that he forgets to eat or drink when he’s like that.
So he’s like a baby, who needs to be gently cared for until there’s enough coffee or sugar in his system to bring him around.
“He’s always been the same.” Ivii says as she rolls over and hands Percy the suncream to apply to her back. “It’s worth knowing what you’re in for if you date my brother.”
Percy and I share a look.
It only lasts a moment before we both glance away.
When I return to the cabin later that night, there’s a restless energy building in my chest.
Waiting for Hunter’s fixation to end, I was hoping we could share a beer and maybe another joint like last night but after taking a dip in the spring alone, I admit defeat and head inside.
I’d been lingering outside his door, waiting for signs that he was done but they never came.
Instead, the sounds of music playing softly, and wet noises of paint filled the silence.
His pheromones seem stronger too, I can scent them and they seep out from behind the door.
I don’t enter knowing that if I did, I would only disrupt him and I wasn’t going to be responsible for him losing his flow or fucking with his muse or whatever.
Making Hunter a sandwich, and grabbing a bottle of water, I leave them on the counter for whenever he decides to emerge. I miss him. Realising that waiting for him is just wishful thinking, as my eyes refuse to stay open, I settle down on the sofa.
Tossing and turning on the giant couch, I eventually fall asleep around 1 am. My skin had been feeling flushed all day, I wrote it off as a lingering effect from too much sun on my hike with Lyle and the twins earlier. Whatever it was, it was making me too uncomfortable to sleep for long.
Years of early morning football practices means that my body clock was programmed to wake early no matter what time I fell asleep. And as soon as the first rays of sunlight hit my skin, my brain starts to come online.
This morning was no different, except there was this strange sensation in my core. The noises from the art room were silent. He must’ve gone to bed eventually, either that or he’s passed out on the floor amongst all his paints and palettes.
My body feels almost like it’s not mine as I kick off the blankets and rub my face. My skin is clammy and there’s an odd tightening in my chest.
I want to see Hunter.
I need to see him.
There’s also this horniness that refuses to fade, almost like I’m in my pre-rut phase, except it’s not time.
I recognise the same electric buzz moving through my nerves.
My dick is practically leaking in my boxers, damp fabric starting to cling to my skin as I press my palm against my morning wood seeking some relief.
Tearing off my T-shirt with a frustrated grunt, I writhe on the sofa, trying to find some sort of comfort.
I’m too warm.
It’s too stuffy.
Hunter
I want Hunter.
Forcing myself to stay in the lounge, I wait, watching until the minutes on my phone roll over to eight o’clock.
Eight o’clock is an acceptable time to wake up my housemate right?