Chapter 8 #2
Apart from rotting in bed before I start at the office? Not really. I shrug and take a sip of whatever mix this is. Gin, maybe? And Sprite? ‘Shopping and relaxing. Why?’
Thom takes a deep breath, and I can see Robbie at my side, giving him a nod of encouragement. Damn it, this really is the let’s be friends thing, isn’t it?
‘I have to help Leaf with some gardening stuff, and I thought you might want to come along.’
Shit. I haven’t seen Leaf since he was in the middle of his Michael crisis. I left a week after he and Thorne got back from Portland with the news that the dude he was seeing was an FBI agent on the verge of retiring.
‘Is the groundhog still alive?’
Robbie pulls a face while Thom bursts into laughter. ‘Yes,’ Thom signs. ‘He’s the farm mascot now. Thorne got him a BabyBjorn to carry him around in.’
That’s the worst thing I have ever heard, but also the most Leaf thing I have ever heard. I don’t even need to see it. I can picture it perfectly.
I contemplate saying no, but Thom looks so annoyingly hopeful, and Robbie looks like he’s going to rip me a new asshole if I do. And it might not be so bad. Leaf is fluent, and Thorne—if I recall—is hard of hearing, so I won’t be out of my element again.
And hell, if I made it through France on my own, I can do anything.
‘If it’s not too early,’ I start, but my hands freeze when the lights on the table flicker, letting me know someone’s at the door. Who the fuck could possibly be here?
Literally everyone I know is inside my apartment. Though it’s possible a neighbor called in a noise complaint because we got louder than expected. That has absolutely happened at apartment Deaf gatherings I’ve been to.
I start to get up, but Thom pushes me back down. ‘You look tired. Let me get it.’
Fuck him very much. I look just fine. I attempt to steal a look in the mirror on the wall, but it’s too high for me to see my reflection. I tap at my under eyes to see if they’re puffy.
Robbie smacks my elbow. ‘You look fine. Truth. But if you want to feel better, take this.’
He hands me something, and I stare down at it. A gummy of some sort.
‘Safe?’ I ask, and he rolls his eyes.
‘Yes, legal, just strong.’
I pull a face, pop it in my mouth, then turn my attention to where Thom is pulling the door open, and all the breath leaves my lungs.
Oh shit. It’s him.
It’s him.
Dex smiles at Thom as he walks in, his eyes swiveling around the apartment. Then his gaze catches mine, and he freezes. The world skids to a stop.
He’s here.
And I have no fucking idea what to do.
Apparently, in an emergency like this one, I don’t react. In fact, I do nothing at all. I just sit completely still, trying to avoid looking at him.
Because while Thom has gotten even better-looking the last three years, Dex has morphed into the epitome of erotic. Everything he does is sensual. The way he moves, blinks, and breathes. It’s making my cock unbearably hard.
When people joked his nickname was Sex, they weren’t kidding.
He is. Walking, talking sex.
I sit in my seat, drinking the drink Thom made me, digesting the weed gummy, and trying to keep up with the conversations moving around me.
It’s getting later, brighter. More lights are turned on, people seem to be converging, chat-chat in full swing.
I see Denver talking with Quinn and Theo, who is pulling open the cabinets and examining the stuff inside.
Dex is…somewhere. Somewhere I’m definitely not looking.
The nice thing is I’ve sunk so far back into the recliner that I’m almost invisible.
And if I don’t move, no one will notice I’m here.
I must be succeeding because Dex hasn’t attempted to say hello.
Which is rude, honestly. I’m the reason everyone is here.
He should at least come over and say hello, give me a damn hug as a greeting.
But he doesn’t. He just meanders out of sight, a drink in hand.
I don’t know where he went or why.
Probably gone off to text his girlfriend, my mind screams at me.
The gummy is making my limbs too heavy to move.
I blink twice for help, but no one notices.
Robbie checked in earlier, but he wandered off, probably making out with Thom on the porch.
His brothers have run off and are now wreaking havoc somewhere, probably going through my suitcase just for shits and giggles.
They better not find that dildo I brought with me to France.
They fucking better keep their hands off it.
Fuck, I still can’t move. I blink occasionally, trying to Morse code someone to come rescue me, but no one does. I’m afloat on the sea of chat-chat.
Adrift and alone.
And then Dex appears in my line of sight.
Fuck, how does he look even better right now? Did he groom himself in the bathroom to torture me?
His sleeves are rolled up his arms, exposing his thick biceps. His shirt has a low V-neck cut, and I can make out the movement of his pecs as he strides toward the kitchen. His ass looks incredible in those jeans too.
I bet his dick has grown as well.
I bet it’s twice the size.
God, the way I’d choke around it so good.
My dick tries to follow him, jerking in my pants, but I grab onto the arms of the chair to keep myself seated.
I will not follow him around.
I will not.
I’m better than this. Well…not really, but mostly better.
I think.
Fuck, I’m such a loser with bags under my eyes, an unshaven face and clothes that smell like plane.
Do not look my way. Do not look, I beg the universe.
It doesn’t listen.
His eyes flick over to meet mine, and I blink twice to tell him to look away, but he doesn’t. He wets his lips and cocks his head, looking almost inquisitive. Maybe he has a degree in Morse code and can read the frantic message I’m sending his way.
Not sure what that message is, but it’s something.
He turns his gaze toward Thom, who hands him a drink, slapping him on the back and pulling him into a hug. Thom signs something to his brother, his mouth moving, and I assume he’s using sim-com to communicate. Dex was never good at ASL, and I can’t imagine that he’s gotten fluent in three years.
I watch their conversation, Thom asking if Dex can cover a morning class tomorrow.
A glutes class.
The heat I’m giving off almost sets fire to the recliner I’m in.
I watch as Dex gives his brother a nod, and I know I shouldn’t. I absolutely shouldn’t go to that class, but I’m pretty sure I will.
I’ll crawl in there, lie on the ground, and watch that ass flex. Then I will hate myself later.
Damn, what did Robbie give me? Everyone thinks he’s some uptight professor, but these gummies are fucking chaotic.
I swear to god, he’s a troll most days. But no worse than Dex is trolling me with his presence right now.
Fuck, I hate him, I tell myself. I even blink it in his direction. Not that he’s looking at me. But it doesn’t seem to really ring true. I don’t feel that anger toward him like I did three years ago.
Fuck. Me.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn my head slightly. It feels heavy on my shoulders, like one of those bobble toys.
It’s the jet lag, I tell myself. And the weed. Maybe even the energy drink all mixed together.
I need water.
I blink that to someone, but no one is looking at me.
Wait, he’s looking at me. Those eyes. I can’t forget the way they looked down on me as I choked on his cock. And his lips, sultry and hot, exactly the way they’d been the last time we were together.
I shove myself up, wobbling slightly. Shit, I think I’m about to meet the floor.
Before I fall, Dex is suddenly here, right next to me, his arm around my waist.
I want him to leave me alone, but when I try and tell him this, my hands flop around like fish. God, these gummies should be criminal.
He says nothing, leading me forward, silent, calm.
I dislike this very much. I dislike it so much that I rub my face against his neck and inhale.
He smells delicious.
Before I know where I am, I fall onto a mattress, my eyes struggling to stay open. It’s hard when everything is so damn heavy. I’m so fucking tired and overwhelmed and high.
‘Ass class’, I try to tell him. I want to confirm I’ll be there. I want him to know I’ll be in attendance. He stares at me, then shrugs and helps me take off my shoes.
I don’t want him to touch me.
I want him to touch me all over.
I may tell him this. I may not. I don’t remember. I just remember the way my eyes crossed before closing and sleep consuming me.
And when I peel back my eyelids a few hours later, I realize it might have only been a dream.
I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I’m not sure if I’m actually counting Dex as one, but I definitely count the way I treated Robbie. And several instances of mixing incompatible liquors together at the bar with Quinn and Theo.
And definitely dating my shit-for-brains hearing ex-boyfriend that soured me on all hearing people from then on out. If it wasn’t for him, I might not have detested Dex on sight.
But the worst mistake I’ve made in a long while was dragging my hungover ass out of my new apartment and down to the gym for Dex’s new glutes sculpting session. Not just because it feels like booze is seeping out of my pores along with my sweat, but also because I wasn’t ready to see him.
Not like this. Not when I’m at my most pathetic and most jet-lagged.
But I am here, despite feeling like I may truly die.
Robbie is a piece of shit who gave me a gummy far too strong.
I mean, he warned me, but come on. And I didn’t do any drugs in France, not looking for a way to end up in prison, so this was my first hit of anything since arriving home, and it did me no favors.
Combined with the drink Thom gave me and the long flight across both the ocean and the entire United States, I was lost.
God, Robbie and Thom are such fucking menaces. They were lucky I didn’t embarrass myself…I think. I hate that everything is a blur.