Chapter 5 #2
Who gave this man the right to so effortlessly chip away at the walls I built to protect myself?
Because with every brush of his skin on mine, another brick falls out of place.
We take a ride share over to my apartment after dropping Calum off, and it becomes glaringly obvious that Elias’ love language is physical touch. It’s his default form of communication.
A hand on my knee when it starts to bounce. Fingers trailing my neck and back as if they have a mind of their own while he talks about something completely unrelated. An arm around my shoulder when he laughs, rubbing his nose into my hair.
I’ve never met another human this casually affectionate, and it sends my body and heart all kinds of mixed signals.
When was the last time someone held me for the hell of it?
If this were a romcom, we’d get to my door, fumble through a goodbye, he’d turn to leave, and then one of us would reach for the other, and we’d kiss right there in the hall.
We don’t. I put my key in the lock, turn to thank him for coming along with me, and I have to stop my heart from trying to pound out of my chest, because the way he’s watching me is complete unconcealed adoration.
“What?” I ask, more of a nervous breath instead of an honest question.
For the first time all day, I hope he doesn’t touch me. Not because I don’t want him to—I’m too touch-starved for that—but because if he does I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’ll drag him into my apartment and beg him to take me to bed.
If the casual touches feel this good, letting him inside my body would be world shattering.
“Can I ask you something?” He drops his eyes to the dingy hall carpet, the barest of smiles on his face.
“Yeah. Shoot.”
“Who’s Riley?”
My breath catches in my throat. “Why do you ask?”
I know I’ve never brought him up in conversation before, and hearing someone else say his name awakens a fresh stab of heartache.
“It’s nothing. You were asleep, and you sort of … called out for them.”
“Oh.” I turn so my back is to the door, and I’m facing Elias properly. He’s got his fingers twisted in front of him, shoulders slightly hunched, and if I didn’t have better control of myself, I’d wrap him up in a hug.
“He’s my ex,” I say, and watch as he processes: tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and nods his head in a slow acknowledgement.
“Was it serious?”
“Very.” I swallow down the rush of emotion making my throat constrict. “It’s been three years, and I haven’t dated anyone since him.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?”
I must be reading him wrong, projecting my own out of place desires, because I swear I can almost hear a hint of jealousy.
“No,” I say, probably for the first time out loud. “No, I put those feelings to rest a long time ago.”
He pushes a breath past his parted lips, and finally those brown, imploring eyes come back to mine.
“Why don’t you date?”
I shrug. “Partially because I’m picky. Riley and I did a number on each other; I had a lot of time to figure out how I did and didn’t want to be treated in a relationship.”
His brows draw in tight. “Did he hurt you?”
“No, not like that.” I sigh and rest my weight back against the door. “I don’t really want to talk about it if that’s okay.”
“Right. I’m sorry.” He looks off to the side, shifting his weight as he gnaws on his lip. “Can I ask one more thing?”
Why does he have to look like a little lost puppy?
“I’ll allow it.”
His lips twitch a fraction, but he holds back the full smile. “What’s the other reason? That you don’t date.”
Because if I open my heart, it will leap at the chance to fall in love again, and I’m not sure I can come back from the wreckage this time.
“Simple,” I say through the crack in my voice. “I don’t want my heart broken again.”
As much as I like the idea of love, or that falling for Elias would be so damn easy if I let myself, I’m not convinced it’s something I can have.
Not because of some cosmic barrier or universe getting in my way, but because of me. Because there’s so many obstacles to loving me fully; I’m not sure anyone can clear them all.
“Matty.” He says my name all warm and caring, and I can’t take the energy zapping between us anymore.
I put my back to him, dropping my forehead to the door to collect myself from the threat of falling apart all because a guy is exceptionally nice to me.
“Thanks for taking me home,” I say, pushing the door open and signaling to myself that the time for little indulgences is over.
I’m fully prepared to slink inside and shut the door before he can find any other way to keep me talking—and shit, I feel like I could talk to him for an eternity—but I’m only half inside when a putrid smell makes me stumble back.
Ah, shit. The refrigerator.
The thing barely works as it is, but lately it’s been leaking like a motherfucker, so unless I need something stored there, I keep it unplugged. My floor is already a breeding ground for mold.
I quickly run in and unplug the damn thing, and surely enough the carpet in the kitchen now smells decidedly like a dead animal.
Add it to the list of things my landlord won’t give a shit about, and I’ll spend hours scrubbing and spraying the place down with anything to cover the stink.
“This is where you live?”
Elias’ voice startles me hard enough that I run my hip into the corner of the little wooden storage unit I use for my dishes.
I forgot he was still here.
“Shit. Uh, yeah.” I look around at the state of disarray.
It’s a pretty basic studio, and relatively empty despite how long I’ve been here.
The bed is a mess because I never bother to make it, and there’s dirty clothes strewn across the floor—but I wasn’t expecting company, so can he really blame me? “I don’t usually entertain guests.”
“I wouldn’t either.” He winces. “No offense.”
“None taken. I know it’s trash, but it’s what I can afford.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t focus on how awful everything looks; his attention is solely on me after a cursory glance around.
“What do you do? For work, I mean. I don’t think it’s ever come up.”
I roll my lips inward and lean back on the stove. “Odd jobs, really. I take up a couple shifts a week at this local cafe.”
He nods slowly, and I know how it sounds. Like I’m not doing enough to support myself. I’m letting myself flounder. Maybe I am.
Maybe I’m afraid of finding something permanent only to have to uproot my life for a third time.
“And, you know,” I find myself saying, tongue moving ahead of my brain. “I might post some stuff online.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Not the kind of stuff I should be admitting to a guy I’m trying really hard not to want to bang.
“Um. Sexy stuff.”
His eyes widen marginally, lips parting in surprise. “Like OnlyFans?”
A blush creeps its way up my cheeks. “Yes and no. I post pictures and videos, but they’re all accompanied by fantasies. Little stories and scenarios.”
Like one about a boy who danced with me in the park, who didn’t walk away and made love to me on the dewy grass.
“That’s actually pretty cool.”
My mouth drops open and an exasperated sound comes out. “You are … something else, Elias.”
It’s time for his cheeks to turn pink, and now he breaks his eyes away, wandering the apartment as if in dire need of escape.
It shouldn’t be as cute as it is.
He’s quiet and aimless for a moment, and when he turns back to me, there’s a hard resolve in his eyes.
“You’re not staying here.”
I flinch, slightly taken aback by how intense the words come out. “What?”
He crosses his arms and squares his shoulders. “You’ll come stay with me until we can get you someplace safer.”
Every coherent reply comes out a stuttered mess, so I settle on something a little more indignant. “That’s not your call to make.”
Now he throws on one of those sweet smiles. One that makes his dimples pop and my legs feel like jelly. He steps forward and sinks a hand into my hair, cradling the back of my head in a firm grip.
“You’re coming home with me, Matty.”
Oh no. Oh no no no.
My heart hammers. My ribs tense. I want him to close the gap between us so goddamn badly.
I’m so gone for this man.