Chapter 10 #2
He grinned, the moment shifting from tender to playful. “You snore, by the way. Like a pug.”
“I do not!”
“You do.” He smacked my ass through the duvet. “Come on. Shower. I’m starving. If I don’t get eggs in the next hour, I’m going to eat the room service menu.”
The shower was intimate, but the tension was rising. We washed each other, Cal’s hands lingering on the bruises he’d left on my hips, my fingers tracing the ink on his chest.
By the time we stepped out, the air in the small bathroom was thick with steam. I wrapped a towel around my waist and moved to the sink to brush my teeth.
Cal didn’t bother with a towel immediately. He walked up behind me, watching our reflection in the mirror. He looked primal, wet hair, water dripping down his chest, eyes dark with intent.
“You know,” Cal murmured, his hand sliding around my waist, his thumb slipping under the waistband of my towel. “You told Evan ‘she’ took care of you. That ‘she’ made you finish.”
I paused, toothbrush in my mouth. “Yeah?”
“I think,” Cal whispered, spinning me around, “I need to remind you who actually owns this cock.”
He dropped to his knees on the cold marble floor.
“Cal—” I gasped as he shoved my knees apart and dropped to the floor between them.
He didn’t wait. He yanked the towel away and took me into his mouth, swallowing me whole.
My head fell back against the mirror with a thud.
“Oh, god.”
It was overwhelming. Cal’s mouth was hot, wet, and incredibly skilled. He wasn’t gentle. He sucked me with a hunger that made my toes curl against his shoulders. He bobbed his head, taking me deep, his tongue swirling around the head of my cock before sliding down the shaft.
He looked up at me, locking eyes. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked me, his hand coming up to pump the base, adding friction that made me groan loud and shameless.
“Cal… fuck… right there,” I panted, my hands tangling in his wet hair.
He hummed against me, the vibration sending electricity straight to my spine. He went faster, harder, determined to wreck me. I was close. I was so close, my hips bucking involuntarily against the marble counter.
Bang. Bang. Bang
The knock on the hotel door shattered the moment.
I froze.
“Open up! Housekeeping!” Evan’s voice bellowed from the hallway.
My eyes went wide. I looked down at Cal.
Cal didn’t stop. He didn’t even flinch. He tightened his grip on my thighs and went harder.
“It’s almost noon!” Evan shouted. “I’m hungry! I know you’re both in there!”
“Just… just a second!” I yelled, my voice strangling as Cal took me to the hilt.
Cal looked up at me, a wicked, devilish glint in his eyes. He knew I was on the edge. He knew Evan was right outside. And he decided to push me over.
He picked up the pace, his mouth working furiously, sucking me with a ruthless rhythm.
“Cal—” I choked out, my body seizing. “I’m gonna—”
He didn’t let up. He suctioned hard, dragging his teeth lightly over the sensitive head, and that was it.
I came hard, crying out as I shot directly into his mouth. Cal didn’t pull away. He took it all, swallowing every drop of my release while Evan pounded on the door again.
“What are you guys doing? Braiding each other’s hair?” Evan yelled.
Cal pulled off with a wet pop, licking his lips. He stood up, looking proud and thoroughly satisfied. He leaned in, kissing me deeply, tasting me on his own tongue, before pulling back with a smirk.
“You’re a mess,” he whispered. “Get dressed.
I was still trembling, clutching the edge of the vanity, trying to catch my breath as Cal wrapped a towel around his hips and walked out of the bathroom.
I heard the hotel door swing open.
“Put some clothes on, Deadlock,” Evan’s voice drifted in. “Nobody wants to see that before lunch.”
“You’re just jealous,” Cal replied, his voice terrifyingly calm. “Peak physical condition.”
I splashed cold water on my face, frantically checked the mirror for any visible marks, threw on a T-shirt and sweatpants, and walked out.
Evan was standing in the middle of the room. Cal was leaning against the dresser.
“Morning,” I managed to say, though my voice was a little breathless and my face felt hot. “Sorry. Shower took a while.”
Evan turned to me. “Morning, Sunshine. You look…”
He stopped.
He looked at me, flustered, red-faced, water dripping from my hair.
Then he looked at Cal. Wet hair. Water still beading on his shoulders.
Then, his gaze drifted past us.
He looked at the beds.
The room had two double beds.
The bed on the left, my assigned bed, was pristine. Military corners. Fluffed pillows. Not a single wrinkle.
The bed on the right, Cal’s bed, was a disaster zone. Sheets ripped off the corners, pillows scattered on the floor, the duvet a tangled, knotted mess in the center where we had thrashed around all night.
It was a smoking gun.
Evan looked at the empty bed. Then he looked at the destroyed bed. Then he looked back at Cal and me.
The silence stretched for a terrifying three seconds.
I saw Evan’s eyes go wide. I saw the gears turning. He looked at the single slept in bed, then at our matching wet hair.
He blinked, and for a split second, I saw the realization hit him. He knew exactly what he had walked in on. He knew why I was flushed. He knew why Cal was standing guard by the dresser.
But he didn’t say a word. He didn’t make a joke. He didn’t ask a question. He just cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from the bed and fixing them resolutely on the doorframe.
“Right. Well,” Evan said, his voice a little louder than necessary, deliberately ignoring the tension in the room. “Like I said. Pancakes. I looked up this place on Yelp, it’s called Wild Eggs. It has four stars. Apparently, the skillet is life changing.”
He turned around, grabbing the door handle.
“I need coffee,” Evan rambled, stepping out into the hallway and refusing to look back at us. “Like, a gallon of it. So I’m just gonna… head down. Meet me in the lobby. Take your time.”
He pulled the door shut behind him with a definitive click.
Cal and I stood there in the silence.
Cal looked at the beds. Then he looked at me. He let out a long exhale, running a hand through his damp hair.
“He knows,” Cal whispered.
“Yeah,” I breathed, my heart still racing. “He definitely knows.”
“He didn’t want to make it weird,” Cal noted quietly.
“No,” I agreed, grabbing my wallet. “He’s a good guy.”
I walked over to the pristine bed, grabbed the duvet, and messed it up quickly, tossing a pillow on the floor to stage the scene for housekeeping. It felt pointless now, but it was habit.
“Five minutes,” Cal said, watching me. “Let’s go get pancakes.”
Breakfast had been a noisy affair. Evan had decimated a skillet of eggs and potatoes, talking loudly about the upcoming draft changes and completely ignoring the fact that Cal and I had walked into the lobby smelling like the same soap.
In fact, Evan seemed to be making a concerted effort to include Cal in the conversation, dropping the “Deadlock” insults down to a manageable simmer. It was his way of saying, I know, I’m not judging, let’s just eat.
Now, we were wandering East Market Street, aiming for the “NuLu” district Evan had read about.
“We need culture,” Evan insisted, checking his phone map. “We spend our lives in arenas and airports. We need to see something that isn’t made of concrete.”
“I see plenty of culture,” Cal drawled, walking backward to face us. He stopped suddenly, pointing at a brick storefront with peeling paint. “Ooh. Forget culture. We’re going in there.”
The sign read: BAKER’S CURIOSITIES & VINTAGE.
“Cal, no,” Evan groaned. “That place looks like it smells like tuberculosis.”
“Don’t be a coward, Evan,” Cal grinned, grabbing the handle and shoving the door open. “Maybe they sell souls. You could finally buy one.”
We walked in. The bell chimed, and the smell of old paper, dust, and incense rolled out. It was a chaotic maze of taxidermy, old medical equipment, and shelves overflowing with junk.
Cal immediately beelined for a glass case.
“Evan, look,” Cal called out, pointing to a taxidermy squirrel that had been dressed in a tiny cowboy outfit, holding a banjo. “It’s you. The resemblance is uncanny. Same dead eyes.”
“I hate you,” Evan muttered, though he walked over to look at it. “It’s actually kind of cute. In a nightmare way.”
I wandered toward the back, trailing my hand along a dusty counter.
That’s when I saw it.
Sitting on a velvet cushion inside a locked cabinet was a camera. It wasn’t a sleek DSLR or a digital point and shoot. It was a boxy, plastic brick with a rainbow stripe down the front. A Polaroid.
I stared at the lens.
I thought about my phone. It was full of secrets, but not the kind I wanted. I had no pictures of us. Not real ones. I didn’t have selfies of us on the couch. I didn’t have pictures of Cal sleeping. I didn’t have pictures of us kissing.
We couldn’t. It was too dangerous. One iCloud hack, one lost phone, one vengeful ex, a friend, and our lives would be over. The internet was forever, and it was terrifying. So we existed in the dark. No evidence. No proof that we wanted each other.
But this?
This was analog. There was no cloud backup. No digital footprint. Just a piece of paper that developed in your hand and existed only where you kept it. Physical. Tangible. Safe.
“Can I see that?” I asked the woman behind the counter.
She unlocked the case and placed it in my hands. It felt heavy. Real. She told me she had film, the “Impossible Project” kind that worked in the old vintage bodies.
“I’ll take it,” I said instantly. “And all the film you have.”
“Silas?” Evan called out from the front of the store. “Please tell me you aren’t buying the squirrel.”
“It’s a camera,” I said, paying the woman.
Cal wandered over. “A Polaroid? What are you, a hipster?”
“It’s vintage,” I defended. I looked at Cal, holding the boxy camera up. “And it prints instantly. No digital copies. Just… the one photo.”
Cal stopped. He looked at the camera, then he looked at me. He saw the logic immediately. No evidence. Just us.
His smirk softened into something genuine.
“Buy it, Si. It’s cool.”
“Why are we here?” Evan asked, his voice pitching up an octave. “Seriously. Why.”
We were standing at the gates of Cave Hill Cemetery. It was massive, nearly three hundred acres of rolling hills, lakes, and thousands upon thousands of Victorian graves.
“I came here once with my dad and Uncle Scott,” I explained, adjusting the strap of the Polaroid camera around my neck. “When we were on the road one time. We had a day off in Louisville, and they brought me here. They loved it. Said it was ‘gothic architecture appreciation’.”
Evan stared at me. “Of course Maverick and Scott thought a graveyard was a fun field trip for a teenager. That explains so much about you. You’re basically an Addams family member.”
“It’s cool!” I laughed. “Come on. There’s a lake.”
“It’s filled with dead people, Silas,” Evan hissed, sticking close to me as we walked through the gates. “If a ghost touches me, I’m suing the Reed family.”
“Relax, giant,” Cal grinned, running ahead. “I’ll protect you.”
Despite Evan’s complaints, the mood shifted as we got deeper into the grounds. It was beautiful, sunny, green, and quiet. We started running around like kids, dodging behind massive oak trees and reading the oldest headstones we could find.
We took pictures.
I snapped one of Evan looking terrified next to a statue of a weeping angel.
I snapped one of Cal planking on a park bench.
Then, we played hide and seek.
“Hey, Evan!” Cal called out near a cluster of mausoleums. “I found your grave! It says ‘Here Lies Evan, Died of Being Boring’!”
“Shut up!” Evan yelled, marching over.
As soon as Evan turned the corner, Cal ducked. He scrambled behind a large marble crypt, pressing a finger to his lips and waving at me.
I bit back a laugh and ducked behind a weeping willow tree.
“Cal?” Evan’s voice floated back. “Guys? Not funny. Seriously. I will leave you here.”
“Boo,” Cal whispered.
He wasn’t looking at Evan. He was looking at me.
I was crouched by the willow tree, the camera in my hands. Cal was crouched behind the marble crypt, wearing that black hoodie, his combat boots dusty, a mischievous, boyish grin plastered on his face. The sunlight was filtering through the leaves, hitting his dark hair.
He didn’t look like the “Deadlock” character. He didn’t look like the tough guy from North Philly. He looked young. He looked happy.
I raised the camera.
WhirrrClick.
The sound was loud in the quiet air.
Cal blinked, looking at the lens, his smile widening just a fraction.
“Did you just take a picture of me hiding?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, pulling the film out as it ejected. “First portrait.”
“Guys!” Evan yelled. “I am calling an Uber!”
Cal laughed, standing up and stepping out.
“We’re right here, Scooby Doo. Relax.”
I stood up, shaking the photo gently as the image started to ghost into existence. It was blurry, and the lighting was weird, but there he was. Cal Kincaid, hiding in a graveyard, smiling at me with eyes that were soft and hazel and full of a secret we shared.
I looked at it, feeling a lump form in my throat. I knew, instantly, that I would keep this photo for the rest of my life.
“Let me see,” Cal said, walking over.
He looked at the developing photo. He didn’t make a joke. He just reached out, his finger brushing the edge of the paper.
“Not bad, Reed,” Cal said softly. Then, louder: “Evan! Get over here! Group photo!”
Evan trudged over, looking relieved we were alive. “Fine. But make it quick. I feel a cold spot.”
Cal pulled out his phone, and held it up.
“Smile, idiots.”
I held up the Polaroid camera in the shot. Evan threw up a peace sign. Cal stuck his tongue out.
Click.
Cal posted it to Instagram immediately.
@DeadlockUWF: Off day adventures with the Giant and the Prince. Louisville is weird. ??
He didn’t tag me. He didn’t say anything sentimental. But he posted us. Together.
“Okay!” Evan shouted, marching back toward the main road. “We saw the graves! We saw the dead people! Now can we please go somewhere that serves beer? I need to wash the ghosts off me.”
“Coming, Evan,” I called out.
Cal bumped his shoulder against mine as we started walking, his voice dropping to a whisper so only I could hear.
“I’m keeping that camera in our bag,” he murmured, nodding at the Polaroid hanging around my neck. “We have a lot of film left.”
I felt my face heat up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Cal grinned, wicked and sharp.
“Graveyard lighting is okay. But hotel lighting? That’s where I want to see you. I have a few poses in mind for that film.”