CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
J ason
“Cal?” Awe sounds in my voice as I exit the elevator.
It’s a silly question. Of course, it’s him.
I know the shape of his head, even though he’s stuffed it in a knit hat, just like I know the width of his shoulders, even if they’re covered in a puffy coat sprinkled with snow, just like I know his precise height.
“You’re here,” I exclaim.
He turns around, and he shoots me a thin smile. His gaze bounces from the thick carpet to the grass wallpaper to the gilt-framed paintings that my real estate agent raved about when I first considered moving here. Maybe he doesn’t want to look at me.
My shirt collar is suddenly too tight, and my tie throttles me. I’ve switched my casual island attire for a bespoke suit that management insists we wear after games.
Something unpleasant coils in my stomach, and I try to think about all the good reasons Cal might be here, but all I can think of is the bad reason: maybe he wants to end whatever we have between us.
Maybe the next minutes will be all awkwardness and listening to him tell me about how I’m not good enough.
I remove my keys, the metal cold against my now gloveless hands, and he steps to the side. There’s more distance than I would like, and something thuds behind my ribcage.
Probably my heart.
It’s always doing acrobatics near him, and the only time it settles is when we’re pressed as closely as humanly possible.
Something we’re not doing now.
“I saw your game,” he says, once we’re in my apartment.
I shut the door. “They let me play.”
“I’m happy for you.”
I nod, but that ache in my chest grows larger. Did he only come to congratulate me? Maybe he was in Seaport for another reason.
Or perhaps this is about his job.
“Is this about the interview?” I ask.
“What? No, Jason, no.”
I stare at the floor, but then his hand joins mine, warm and steady and large, and my cells celebrate.
Jesus, I’ve missed him so much.
“I told Rex I wouldn’t write the story. I told him it wasn’t ethical because we spent so long together. I promised you on the island I wouldn’t report on you. I’m not taking it back now. I swear.”
I turn to him. “Then why are you here?”
His face crumples.
“That didn’t come out right.”
His face remains frozen. Did other people say mean things to him? I hate them. I hate everyone who was ever mean to him.
“I’m glad you’re here.” My voice wobbles, because emotion is so not something I do. “I missed you.”
Then he breaks into a giggle. “That was hard for you, Tough Guy.”
I nod, and something about my expression makes him laugh again—that wild, uncool rumble that fills every corner of my apartment and makes me smile. Jesus, I’ve missed that sound.
“I miss you so much it hurts.” He points to his chest.
I’ve felt the exact same way.
I wasn’t planning on saying it.
I wasn’t planning on doing anything.
I was planning on suffering and missing and reliving our time over and over again and being devastated each time I remembered he is now only a memory.
But this Cal isn’t a memory. This Cal is standing right in front of me.
His way of coming here and talking to me is way better, and I grin.
“What is it?” he asks.
“You’re great at communication.”
He chuckles. “Well, it is my professional career. Would sort of suck if I was bad at it.”
“I really like you,” I say.
“I really like you too.”
I yank Cal forward. He tumbles against me, pressing me against the wall, just how I like it.
My cock jerks up happily.
Cal glances down. “Hello there.”
“He can’t talk back, you know.”
Cal shrugs. “I’m teaching him communication.”
My cock twitches again, visible in the thin material of my suit.
“See, it’s already working,” Cal says.
I snort. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But you still like me?”
“So fucking much.” There’s another word I want to tell him, but I don’t want to scare him. I’ve never said that word to anyone, but now it’s screaming through my mind like a siren whenever I see Cal.
Cal beams, and maybe he knows anyway.
“I probably wouldn’t have contacted you,” I say.
His smile goes wobbly.
“I mean, I wanted to contact you in general,” I assure him. “One day. Obviously.”
His eyebrows slide up.
Which is totally fair. Maybe my heart would have exploded or something before I managed to reach out to him.
“I didn’t want to make things difficult for you in front of your boss,” I say.
The words are lame, but his eyes are still soft because he’s fucking amazing like that. Because he likes me even though I’m difficult. Even though I’m not shiny and even though I say the wrong words.
“That’s considerate of you,” he says. “But I missed you. My days aren’t the same without you in it. I like spending time with you, and I want to continue to spend time with you.”
My heart does that wild beating thing again.
I’m not supposed to have those words said to me. People are supposed to whisper when I enter a room and scurry away when I get too close.
But there Cal is, right in front of me, saying he likes me.
And then because Cal is super amazing, he tilts his head, and I tilt mine because I completely know where he’s going and really, really approve, then he kisses me.
And it’s the best thing ever.
Because we’re not on an island, wondering if we’ll survive.
We’re safe.
He could be anywhere else in the city, but he’s here in this apartment.
And it’s fucking amazing.
I break away from kissing. “Sex!”
Cal stares at me, then starts to laugh. Wild, violent uncool rumbles that fill the whole apartment and bounce over every wall.
“What?”
“Sex.” I nod multiple times. “We’re not on the island! Like, we can do it!”
“You’re right.” He chuckles, his laugh so big and bold and bright that his head tilts back, and all I can do is clutch onto his hand, in awe that so much joy resides in him, that worries don’t have to be worries, that happiness is so close and wonderful.
I rush to the bedroom, then turn my head, because maybe it’s not proper etiquette or something to run away.
He’s right behind me though, and next thing I know, he’s colliding into me, because apparently there’s something called inertia or something and that amount of weight on socked feet doesn’t just stop.
He crashes into me, and I hold out my arms. We don’t fall because that’s what my muscles are there for.
“Sorry I stopped. I wanted to make sure you were behind me.”
“I’ll always be behind you,” he says, and I laugh.
Someone has turned my heart into a balloon, and it’s going to carry me right up to the sky.
I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom. The bed is still unmade, and clothes are scattered on the floor. I cringe, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
I lift him in my arms and laugh when his eyes widen.
“You shouldn’t do that.”
“Then don’t tell my trainers.” I fling him onto the bed, then jump on top of him, sinking into his warm, soft flesh.
Jesus Christ, I’ve missed this. Missed him.