Chapter 55 Elliot #2
“Yes, and I told you, I have to put the alarm on. There was a break-in two streets away a couple of years ago, and they had a time dealing with their insurance company because their alarm wasn’t on at the time of the burglary.”
I don’t mean to do it. I’ve been trying not to do it since the first day I got here, but now I lose the thread of self-control I’ve been clinging to, and I find myself rolling my eyes so hard my entire head tilts back.
I quickly get a grip and compose myself. I press my cheeks up and out and give him a cursory hint of teeth. “Maybe you should just let me download the app so I can put the alarm on when I get back. See? No biggie.”
He sighs heavily. “It’s a very tricky system, Elliot. It’s hard to get your head around, and if you do something wrong, you’ll set the alarm off, and I’ll never hear the end of it from Pam.”
“Who’s Pam?” There’s a chance I’m trying to provoke him. He’s mentioned Pam several times, and I’ve met her twice.
“She’s the neighbor to our right. She has three young kids. The last thing she needs is us waking them up in the middle of the night.”
“Well,” I say, sounding as dubious as I possibly can, “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything. Wyn’s driving, so I’ll be at his mercy, and you know how he gets when he’s out.”
“Elliot.” The word slams into me, causing the lump of bravado I’m in the process of swallowing to get stuck in my throat. “Eleven. And that’s final.”
Something about what he says or the way he says it causes a nuclear reaction to go off in my brain. Rage rushes through my veins and erupts out of my mouth.
“You’re not the boss of me!” My voice is loud and nasal, and even I can hear that I sound like a fucking idiot.
His body stiffens and he straightens up, unfolding at least another inch or two of height, making him look so imposing that my balls pull a little closer to my body.
“Careful, boy,” he says softly. The ice in his voice enters my body through the tip of my dick and winds up my shaft, my spine, and straight to my brain.
My cheeks burst into flame, and for several long seconds, I don’t move.
He considers me carefully, and then he points a thick index finger at me and causes every schema I’ve ever used to make sense of the world to implode.
“You’re playing with fire, and you’re headed for leather. ”
Thank God Wyn messages me right then to let me know he’s parked out front. I have less than no idea how I would have responded to Stuart, but something tells me it wouldn’t have painted me in a favorable light.
“I, uh, I’ve got to go,” I say stiffly.
“Have fun. I’ll see you at eleven.”
“I’m telling you, Wyn, the man’s a fucking psycho.
I’m literally living with a psychopath. This is my life right now.
He, like, picks up my stuff and moves it around, and I don’t even know why anyone would do that, except to drive someone crazy.
And he tells me what to do all the time.
All the time. I mean, seriously, the guy just tried to give me a fucking curfew, for fuck’s sake.
” Wyn glances over at me and bites his lip as if he’s trying to stop himself from saying something. “What?”
“Nothing.” He lets out a dry snort that turns into a laugh as soon as he opens his mouth. “So, what time’s your curfew?”
“Eleven, but don’t even think I’m going home by then. Might not go home at all. Might have a bender. That’s what I might do.”
“Ah, Gouldie,” Wyn says wistfully, “I’ve missed your chaos.”
“Chaos? My chaos? What the hell are you talking about?” As I say it, I hear it, and I start laughing too.
Damn, it feels good to be with someone normal.
I reach over and squeeze the muscle where Wyn’s neck and shoulder meet.
He leans his head into my touch and smiles as he drives.
Wyn might not tilt the sunshine scale quite as heavily as Luke, but he’s the best too.
He’s one of those guys who always looks put-together and never has a hair out of place unless he’s gotten absolutely blasted the night before.
He’s always dressed neatly. A little too neatly if I had to find fault with him.
It’s not that I mind it or it doesn’t look good on him.
It’s just that it makes him look a little less cool than he actually is.
My phone pings as we walk into Schlong. It’s Izzy and Bridget letting me know they’re already here.
“And to think, the last time I saw you, you told me I’m never early for anything,” teases Bridget as she hugs me hello.
“One time doesn’t make it a thing, Bridge.”
“Eh, a win’s a win.”
We order our drinks and find a table. Everyone talks over each other, catching up on what’s been happening since I moved out. There are a lot of moving parts to the conversation because Izzy and Chase are on the outs again.
I hate it when this happens. They’ve been together since we left school, but for the last couple of years, they’ve been on and off. I can’t stand it. I know I say I hate it when my friends get together and act all whipped, and I do, but I prefer that to seeing any of them unhappy.
In the case of Izzy and Chase, it’s especially awful because we’ve all been friends with both of them forever.
It stresses the living shit out of me when they break up.
It feels like a divorce in the family. No one knows what to do or how to act around them.
I can tell from the way Izzy’s smiling that she’s not feeling her best.
Bridget looks all right, or she’s at least making a big effort to seem all right. She took my room when I moved out because a couple of months after moving in with her long-term boyfriend, Josh, he told her he loves her and wants to be with her but doesn’t want to live with her. Go figure.
“So, yeah, it’s unconventional, but when you really think about it, it’s no big deal.
I think the main thing is that he was honest about his feelings.
We have the type of relationship where we can have difficult conversations,” Bridget says, “and that counts for a lot. I mean, who’s to say you have to live together for a relationship to be successful? ”
Izzy nods supportively. I catch Wyn’s eye, and he looks away quickly.
Wyn and I feel exactly the same way about Josh.
He doesn’t appreciate Bridget and seems to be under the wildly erroneous impression he can do better than her.
She’s way out of his league, and the only two people who don’t know it are him and Bridget.
Bridget is amazing. I had a little crush on her when we met, but that’s not why I don’t like Josh. At least, I don’t think it is, or if it is, it’s definitely not the only reason.
“And on the bright side,” Wyn interjects, “now you get to live with your best friend in the whole wide world, and how fun is that?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s not the worst thing to happen to me.” She shrugs with a sassy smile.
“Not the worst thing? When I brought you coffee in bed this morning, you said it felt like we were having a never-ending sleepover.”
Oh damn, I miss getting my coffee in bed.
“But, like, you still miss me, don’t you, Wyn?” I mean it as a joke, but it doesn’t quite come out sounding that way.
“‘Course I do, Gouldie.” Wyn slings an arm loosely over my shoulder. “How could I not miss all this?”
“How’s the new place?” asks Izzy.
“And how’s the new roommate?” adds Bridget.
Ordinarily, I love being out, and I love it when everyone’s attention is on me. I lap that shit up. Add to that the genuine care and concern in my friends’ faces, and I should be in heaven.
I’m not though.
I feel a little off tonight. Things are feeling too loud and too bright.
I’m not finding it all that easy to focus on what people are saying.
As much as I’m trying to steer my mind in another direction, it keeps veering back to the altercation, or whatever you’d call what happened between Stuart and me before I left.
Elliot.
Careful, boy.
I hear his voice and his words and see the way he looks when he says it. Unbearably stern. Horribly handsome. I don’t just hear it and see it. I feel it. I feel it in my dick, my balls, and all over my skin. I feel it under my skin too, deep under my skin.
“Who’s up for another drink? I’m buying,” I say.
All three of them look at me in a mix of surprise, sympathy, and despair.
“For God’s sake, Gould,” says Izzy. “This is exactly how you got yourself into this position. Just let us all get our own drinks, or better yet, let one of us buy you a drink for once.”
I know she means well, and moreover, I know she’s right, but it still makes me feel super uncomfortable and kind of panicked to find myself in a position where I can’t do nice things for my friends.
I think I manage to smile and thank her, and while she’s at the bar, I make my way to the bathroom to adjust myself.
Careful, boy.
You’re playing with fire.
I try to take a leak, but my dick is too hard. It’s been perking up every time I think of the conversation with Stuart. It’s getting so uncomfortable that I’m starting to think maybe I should have stayed home. If you know me at all, you’ll know that’s very unlike me.
I have that drink and one Bridget buys for me.
Everyone’s getting mellow, talking a little louder and more animatedly, and I’m finding it harder and harder to keep up.
Every few minutes, I look at the time on my phone.
Sometimes, time flies when you’re out. You look at your watch and wonder if you’ve entered a time warp or something. This isn’t one of those nights.
Seconds tick by like minutes.
An hour has never felt this long.
At around ten-thirty, Wyn taps me and says, “Wanna call it? We can make it back to your place by eleven if we leave now.”
“Fuck no,” I say quickly. “I’m getting us another round.” This time, I don’t take no for an answer. I stalk to the bar despite the chorus of protests behind me.
You’re playing with fire, boy.
And you’re headed for leather.