Chapter 18
ABEL
When I step into the bathroom and take note of the choker around my neck, I feel a smirk tugging at my lips, even as I refuse to meet my own gaze in the mirror. I can’t look at myself. Not knowing the fresh wounds I have on the insides of my thighs. Not right now… not yet, anyway.
The rest all feels surreal.
This decision I have come to.
Or at least, I think I have.
Peris and I have only texted for the last week, and it’s… amazing, actually. If not slightly crazy. He got ahold of me out of nowhere like nothing had happened, and I’m just rolling with it.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing—and I don’t think he does either—but we’re kind of just… existing in the moment, I guess, and it’s been fun.
I drop my clothes to the floor and step into the shower. The water is scalding as it hammers down on my body, and by the time I’ve finally stepped out into the steam-filled room, my head feels a great deal clearer.
After dragging a towel over my wet body and wrapping it around my waist, I traipse through my bedroom and flop back onto my bed and scroll on my phone for a little bit, ignoring the red text icon until it becomes too much to bear.
Baby boy:
What are you doing?
Me:
Lying here…
Naked.
While I wait for a response back, I force myself up and get dressed in comfy clothes since today is a cleaning day.
After hooking my music up and blaring Three Days Grace, I start in the living room with tidying up and then move on to the kitchen with the dishes from the last couple of days.
By the time that’s done, my phone has vibrated twice, but I ignore it in favor of sweeping and vacuuming the floors.
When the apartment is finally cleaned and all I have left is to take my laundry to the laundromat, I open the balcony door to let the frigid fall air in to freshen the place up as I light one of my favorite scented candles—amber and musk.
It reminds me of Peris, if I’m being honest, and it’s him I’m thinking of as I drop down in a chair outside and light my joint, inhaling the earthy smoke until my lungs burn.
My eyes roll back as the buzz warms my veins, and I shiver against the contrast, tucking my legs further beneath me against the cold. And that’s when my phone buzzes in my hoodie pocket for the third time.
With a smile on my face, I pull it out.
Baby boy:
Naked, really.
You’re a fucking tease, Abel.
What’re you doing today?
Me:
I’ve already got plans today, sorry.
Baby boy:
What plans?
Me:
Laundry.
Baby boy:
You’re choosing to do laundry over me?
Me:
So… you want me to do you?
Baby boy:
Oh, fuck off.
I catch myself playing with my necklace, a stupid smile on my face as I stare at his words. Why is it as easy as breathing with him, all over again? It shouldn’t be. Not after almost two years apart.
But here we are.
As if nothing has changed.
Because even this last week, just flirting through text, it’s been like this. Not having to think twice.
He’s been talking to me like nothing ever happened. Like we didn’t fight or argue, and I don’t know what to make of that, but I’m also too scared to ask, to ruin it.
Me:
I’m going to the laundromat. You can meet me there if you want.
But I am doing my laundry.
And then, I send him the address to the one down the street from where I live. Because clearly, I’m fucking stupid.
Peris never replies, but he does open my text, and I don’t know if that means if he’s coming or not, but either way, I try not to think about it as I finish my joint and drop the roach in the ashtray on the table, extinguishing the cherry as I do.
My body feels like liquid as I move through the apartment and gather my two loads of laundry into bags and haul them over my shoulder. Ensuring I’ve got everything I need, I lock up behind me and start the walk to the laundromat, relishing in the cool air as it rushes against my face.
My hoodie and sweatpants keep me warm, but the cool air begins to seep in by the time I make it inside, and my toes and fingers are numb.
It’s thankfully vacant inside and smelling of laundry detergent and dryer sheets as I drop my bags to the ground in front of the washers and open the lids.
I don’t bother separating my clothes as I dump the bags into two separate washers, throw detergent in after, and start the loads on cold water only.
As the water fills the basins, the scent wafts into the air, filling my nostrils with lavender.
I inhale deeply, eyes closing briefly for a moment before I close the lids, gather my bags, and find a seat in the far right corner of the small building.
Some game show is playing on the small box T.V. in the corner, and I’m honestly surprised the T.V. hasn’t been stolen as I watch random people spin a wheel and pick numbers to win a prize.
Times drags on slowly, only the sound of water and dated voices filling the void as I doom scroll on my phone, eyelids growing heavier with every minute that passes until, eventually, the washer sounds, and the clothes are ready to be switched to the dryer.
“This is the most boring shit I’ve ever seen,” a voice says from behind me, and I whirl around with a gasp.
“Well, some of us have gotta do it.”
“You sayin’ I don’t do laundry?”
“I’m saying I’ve never seen you do anything without being told to by your mother.”
At the mention of Elise, Peris tenses from head to toe, and okay, maybe I shouldn’t have brought her up… probably pretty fucking stupid of me.
He meets my steely gaze with one of his own, dark brows furrowed. “I’m not the same kid I was.”
“Neither am I,” I retort easily, veins humming with warmth from the weed coursing through me.
We stare at each other for long seconds before Peris blurts, “You’re high.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “How observant.”
“Still smoking weed, then, huh?” He poses it like a question, but his jaw is locked tight, and his hands are fisted at his sides like he’s pissed off, back ramrod straight. I use the moment to take him in while he’s focused on himself.
The way his black jogging pants are slung low on his hips because even though he’s wearing a hoodie, I can still see the bulge of his crotch and the definition of his waist through his hoodie’s outline.
His tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt.
His nose ring glinting in the harsh, yellow fluorescents.
His white sneakers squeaking on the linoleum as he shifts on his feet.
His full lips pursed in exasperation, forehead wrinkled in annoyance.
“What do you have to be so pissed about? I’m a big boy, Peris.” I smirk at him, and he narrows his eyes.
“Are you trying to piss me off?”
“Always, baby.” I blow him a kiss as I push past him and head for the washers to switch my clothes to the industrial-sized dryer on the opposite side of the room. Peris walks up right behind me and places an arm on either side of me, blocking me in.
He dips down until his lips brush the hair just beside my right ear.
“You’ve always had a talent for that, haven’t you, runt?”
My eyelids flutter closed upon hearing that nickname coming from his lips so softly. So… reverently.
“You’d know better than anyone,” I tell him truthfully.
“Is that so?”
“Yep.”
“I think I like that.”
“You would, you possessive fuck.”
With a growl, Peris reaches around and clamps his hand around my throat, his fingers finding their place around my choker easily.
I lean back into the hard body pressed against me, and Peris retaliates by shoving me forward into the washer.
I grunt as my half-hard dick collides with the metal, my upper half bending forward a bit as he leans over me to whisper into my ear.
“You think you know me, Abel?” he asks, and it sounds like a taunt.
“People don’t change. Not that much,” I add, breathlessly. “We’ve been talking so much lately, I’d like to think I still know you pretty well,” I add.
He huffs against the side of my face. “You think?”
“I know.”
“I wonder… Would the old me have fucked you in this laundromat?” he asks, his words nothing but a soft whisper of breath directly into my ear.
“The old you wouldn’t have touched me where anyone could’ve seen,” I snap back, and he tenses.
“I wonder… was that a jab at my internalized homophobia or at the act of exhibitionism?”
“Oh, look at you using big words,” I purr condescendingly, and Peris growls and grabs my hip to flip me around.
I gasp when my back slams into the cold metal of the washer.
Peris leans down on top of me, forcing me to lie back on top of it.
My feet leave the ground, and they’re left dangling in the air.
“You’re always such a little fucking brat,” he snarls against my lips, and I smirk, relishing in his sharp intake of breath as our mouths brush together.
“You wouldn’t like me any other way.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But it would be nice if you’d shut the fuck up every once in a while.”
“Now, Peri boy… we both know I’m not going to do that,” I tease him, and he smashes his mouth down on top of mine. I gasp as my head smacks into metal from the force, and his tongue sneaks out to dance with mine.
I moan at the taste of him exploding in my mouth. His hands on me are bruising, and I revel in that fact that I’ll be marked by him again when we’re done—just as I should be.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan into him, the mere thought hardening my dick the rest of the way. Peris pants opened-mouthed against my face as he pulls back and stares into my eyes.
“Has anyone had you?” he asks quietly, and I still. I’m not sure in which way he means, but fuck… if I lie…
“Not since that night,” I blurt, which is the truth. No one but Harvey has fucked me since that same night, but I’ve had one phone call with Lars. But he didn’t touch me, and I think that’s what he means…