Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Xander
I have exactly one iota of willpower left, and it’s almost depleted. I fully expect it will be gone by the end of the night, which is why I’m finally going to show Derek my “art.” He’s going to be woefully unimpressed, but if that somehow still leads to sympathy sex, I’ll take it.
Going to a club and dirty dancing all over him briefly crossed my mind instead, but that would have been a terrible idea.
I can’t dance, and I hate going out. The stares, the pressure to drink and be sexy. I’m more of a homebody. A few drinks and a game night with my friends is my idea of heaven—except when all of their boyfriends stop by and I’m the pitiful extra.
I wish Derek could be that for me, and I understand why it’s not possible, but I also think it’s really, really stupid. In our case, anyway. He hasn’t taken advantage, there haven’t been lines crossed, all Derek ever does is make me feel good, and I don’t understand how someone else gets to have an opinion on what could be an amazing relationship.
Does it kill me that he’s not around during the moments when I can’t get my brain to brain right? More than I’ll ever tell him. But if the trade-off is a shot with him, it’ll be worth all the pain.
Hopefully.
To tip the odds in my favor, I’ve dressed super fucking slutty tonight.
I don’t want to leave anything to the imagination. I don’t want Derek to be able to keep his hands off me.
I’m so fucking sick of being a virgin.
It’s not even the label. If it was only about getting it over with, I would have done it already. Probably. If I’d found someone who wasn’t a complete turnoff.
It’s about the fact that I want to feel hands on me. I want to know what another naked body is like against mine. I want real fucking intimacy. And I want to experience that with Derek.
There’s something deep in my consciousness that trusts him, and I try to tell myself to cut that shit out because it’s exactly how I’ll end up left and alone, but I don’t fucking learn.
I want him. I’m sure he wants me. I don’t understand why we have to jump through so many fucking hoops to make us happen. It was last year that he last treated me; why isn’t that enough?
A text comes through to my phone, and I grin at Molly and Seven. “He’s here.”
“I guess we’re doing this,” Seven mutters while Molly lights up.
“Would you dim it?” I snap at him.
“What? I’m excited.”
“I know, stop it. You’ll get my hopes up, and they’re already doing a great job of being overinflated on their own. ”
“Sorry.” He doesn’t dim. Just goes on smiling.
It’ll be a miracle if between Molly’s sunshine, Seven’s grumpy, and my horrible paintings that Derek manages to last long enough to show him my room. I’m going to hold out hope, though, because it’s not like there are any other hot men I want to drag up there.
Molly gets to the door first, and he immediately pulls Derek into a hug. I try not to be annoyed that I didn’t get to do that first, but when Molly releases him—after way too fucking long—Seven takes over before I can.
Derek’s whole face turns to shock when Seven hugs him too.
That’s almost enough to make the wait worth it.
“Ah … hey,” Derek says as they pull away. “I was expecting more of a punch to the face in greeting, but I’ll take it.”
Seven holds up his hands. “Despite how I look, I’m harmless.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you being pissed after what I said last time I saw you.”
Seven glances my way. “Ehh. You were right.”
“Didn’t make it easy though.”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t punch you.”
Derek laughs. “I thought you said you’re harmless?”
“And I am. Unless someone messes with Molly or Z, and then I’ll flipping kill a birch.”
This is exactly why I love him. Not that I’d let him commit murder for me. Probably. It’s just sweet to know that he would.
“Do I get a turn yet?”
Derek’s attention lands on me, and I get a split second of that gorgeous smile before he catches what I’m wearing: one of Rush’s work shirts with only one button done up at the front and very thin cotton booty shorts. Derek’s eyes widen a second before I push onto my toes and hug him. His arms close around me, and I get that familiar feeling of being so happy I could burst.
“We need to get out of the doorway before someone comes trampling through it,” Molly says. “Ooh, Derek brought wine. What a gentleman.” He sends a teasing look back over his shoulder as he drags Seven down the hall after him.
Derek lets me go, and his fingers dip into his neat hair. “I was so scared to see Seven.”
“Why?”
“Because I really thought he was going to have words for me after I told him to fuck off.”
I play with the bottom of my shirt. “He’d never. Yeah, I went off the deep end pretty fucking dramatically after you walked out, but we all know that you didn’t do it to hurt me. And I think they—and me, I guess —can see that maybe, possibly therapy hasn’t been a completely bad thing for me.”
“Maybe possibly?” His lips twitch.
“That’s the best you’ll ever get out of me, so take it or leave it.” I turn to leave when he grabs the back of my shirt and tugs me backward.
Derek steps in close, all body warmth and a fresh wash of citrusy cologne as he leans down by my ear. “I really hope you’re planning to put clothes on before dinner.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I’m wearing clothes.”
His groan is rough. “Let me rephrase. I’m going to need you to put on something where I can’t see the outline of your cock.”
“Why?” I turn my head so we’re nose to nose. “Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“Only one part of me.”
Excitement chases the nerves away. “I like my choices, then. I guess that one part of you will have to find a way to make itself feel better.”
I head for the kitchen, and as I go, I slowly lift the back of the shirt, showing off how these shorts don’t cover my ass. It could be my imagination, but I swear he chokes back a sob.
This is looking very promising.
“Dinner’s ready,” Molly says as soon as we walk into the kitchen. He’s completely oblivious as he plates everything up, but Seven’s watching us suspiciously. He can play the big brother role all he likes; there is no way in hell he’d cockblock me.
He might not know how weird I am about sex, but he does know that I never stop talking about Derek. No matter what his feelings are, he wouldn’t get between me and my happiness.
But as we sit down to eat, a new kind of nerves kick in. Not for what happens next but for this . Them. Unlike me, they’ve only ever spoken to Derek at work, and the thought of the three of them not getting along makes me nauseous.
“You cooked this?” Derek asks Molly.
“Yeah, I’ve learned a lot since moving in here. Our neighbor Aggy cooks with me once or twice a week.”
“Aggy?” Derek glances at me. “She was with you at the nursing home that one time?”
Seven’s face twists in distaste. “Aggy was at a nursing home? She’s not planning to move, is she?”
“Hell, no.” Aggy will be stubborn enough to die in that house. Probably on an expensive piece of furniture too. Then we’ll have to lie about the whole dead body thing when we sell it. I wouldn’t put it past her to haunt the place either.
Seven visibly relaxes. “Good. She’s too young for one of those places.”
If that’s the lie he needs to tell himself, I’ll let him. Pretty sure when the inevitable happens, neither of us is going to handle it well. There are some things therapy can’t fix, and losing the only motherly figure we’ve ever had will be one of those things .
“You’re all close with her, then?” Derek asks, turning to me. “I might have to meet her properly.”
“Hmm … yeah, that won’t be happening.”
It takes me a moment around chewing to realize the three of them are waiting for me to go on.
“Not because of you,” I say. “Well, sort of because of you. But mostly her. She made me promise that I wasn’t going to try anything with you and risk your job.” I throw my hands up. “She’s a meddlesome old bat.”
“Tell me you didn’t promise her,” Seven says.
“Of course I did. If I tried to gag her, she would have fought back, and let’s face it, she’d win. How else was I going to make her shut up about it?”
Derek fixes me with a look. “Probably not like that.”
“Oh well, it’s done now.”
Thankfully, they let it go, and dinner is … great . Turns out one of Seven’s regular clients is a friend of Derek’s, and Seven monopolizes way too much of Derek’s time talking about some person I don’t even know. Derek shows way too much interest in Molly’s move here and how Molly likes it in Seattle, and if he’ll ever go back, and if he misses his dad?—
“Molly has a perfectly wonderful father, and he’s very loved, blah blah blah, we get it,” I finally cut in.
“Really, Z?” Seven asks flatly.
“Sorry.” Molly’s bouncing in his seat. “I’m a talker.”
Derek doesn’t even look at me as he picks up his empty plate and then stacks mine on top. “It was delicious, and I’m glad we finally got to know each other.”
“Me too.”
I make back off eyes at Molly’s enthusiasm.
“I think I need to give Xander my attention now though,” Derek says, and my bad mood evaporates.
Seven takes the plates from Derek. “I got this. ”
“You sure? I feel bad not cleaning up.”
“Trust me.” Seven’s eyes flick my way. “We only have so long before he turns needy.”
“Noted.”
Well, fuck them both very much. I’m not that bad.
Derek stands up, and I hurry after him. It’s not until we’re out of the room that he looks at me, and thankfully, he looks amused. “Next time you want my attention, just ask. Don’t get annoyed with your friends.”
“I wasn’t … annoyed.” Even I don’t believe that, so I drop the lie. “ Fine . Molly’s very pretty and nice and sweet, and I’m none of those things, and clearly, you were enjoying that.”
His eyes light up as he steps closer. “Were you jealous of Molly?”
“No. I love Molly. But did you need to show him that much attention?”
“Yes.” Derek reaches up and gently tucks my hair behind my ear. Soft fingers skim against skin, and all the annoyance drains out of me. “He means a lot to you, so one day, he might mean a lot to me.”
I’m trying very hard—and failing—not to read into those words. “And … do I mean a lot to you?”
He avoids the question. “Time for you to show me your art.”
Urg. That . “I can show you my room instead.”
His lips twitch. “Art.”
“ Fine .” I take his hand and pull him after me. “Might as well lose all respect you have for me up front.”
“I’m not worried.”
“You should be.”
“I can barely paint a tree. I’m confident anything you can do will blow me away.”
That’s not the compliment he thinks it is, but I open the door to my studio and lead him inside. The room is as chaotic as ever, but I try to see things from his point of view.
Admittedly, it probably looks even worse like that.
There’s a paint-stained couch next to my abandoned stack of canvases, tables with half-finished busts and pots and metal works. All things I dabble in and have no real clue about. There’s a whole workstation of paints and paintbrushes, random jars of dirty water, and the heavy curtains over the window are about the only surface in here that hasn’t been attacked when I’m freaking out and spiraling and need to paint something. The floors and walls hold too many of those stories.
“Wow.” Derek swallows. “This is … wow.”
“Yeah, I maybe should have cleaned up first.”
“No, I love it. It’s like … beautiful chaos. Like I can feel you in here.” He points at the canvas propped on the easel by the window. “Is this what you’re working on?”
“Unfortunately.”
He walks closer, and I wish I could tell him to stop. That it’s not a big deal and we can go literally anywhere other than here.
“Is it finished?” he asks.
Of course it’s not fucking finished. I huff and join him. “No. That’s the background, and I’m building and layering here to be the forest floor, and this is a stream cascading down over the rocks. Then I’m going to paint a large misty-looking tree kinda leaning through the middle here, with some animals, and then it will be finished. Maybe. If I don’t get sick of it before then.”
He’s staring for a really long time. “Yeah, I can see it. That’s going to look incredible.”
I hate compliments. I never know what to do with them. There are only so many times you can tell someone that your work is shit before you both start to look stupid. And thanking him for something I don’t believe doesn’t feel right either .
“ You’re incredible, Xander.”
I slowly look up and find him watching me.
Derek’s warm fingers find my cheek like they belong there. “You’re so fucking incredible it kills me.”