8. “Smoke Signals”
EIGHT
“SMOKE SIGNALS”
(PHOEBE brIDGERS)
M y eyes opened, and the first thing I saw was Javi’s head on the pillow beside me, his body turned my way, his eyes closed because he was asleep.
I also felt his arm resting heavy on my waist, the warmth of his body, and heard his even breathing.
Confronted with all of this wonder first thing in the morning, it did not occur to me that last night I’d fallen asleep after pad thai and two scoops of Tillamook brownie batter ice cream, doing this scrunched into one side of Javi’s chesterfield while he was lounged in the other.
We were rewatching Ted Lasso episodes I’d already seen four times, doing this because Javi had proclaimed, “Only feel-good shit tonight.”
I thought this was an excellent idea, I loved it that Javi thought Ted was feel-good (because he was), and since I already knew I’d rewatch Ted Lasso a gazillion more times before I died, I was totally up for a Ted Lasso watch.
In other words, I fell in with his plans.
That was, I did before I fell asleep.
I’d woken when he was carrying me up his stairs.
I was so tired, I didn’t have it in me to marvel at this.
Instead, I’d mumbled, “I got it.”
“Yeah,” he’d replied, but he didn’t put me on my feet until I was in his bathroom.
I’d watched hazily as he dug through a drawer, found a new toothbrush and ripped off the plastic covering that always drove me crazy because it was so hard to get off, but he did it like it was made of paper.
He handed it to me, dug through the drawer again and found toothpaste.
He handed that to me, left, came back with a T-shirt and set it on the vanity counter.
Those things accomplished, he ran a finger along the side of my neck. I trembled at his soft touch. Then he walked out and closed the bedroom door behind him.
And that was, I’d thought at the time, the end of our first unofficial (I wasn’t ready to proclaim it as official yet, but now only due to how weird it was) date.
I felt bad about taking his bed because that was rude. Even if he didn’t have a chunky throw, I should sleep on his couch. It was long, and even with his height, I suspected Javi could fit, but there was no doubt I’d be a lot more comfortable on it than he would.
However, all that had happened and the weariness it had left in its wake overwhelmed me, and I didn’t have it in me to find Javi and protest. I barely had it in me to brush my teeth and change into his tee.
I somehow managed to accomplish these feats, turned out the bathroom lights, felt my way to his bed, fell into it…and the next bit was now.
Me learning that Javi didn’t sleep on his couch.
He slept next to me.
Again.
I was not offended by this.
Not with him right there looking so peaceful.
His long, dark lashes resting on his cheeks, the weight of the life he’d lived that I didn’t know until that very moment he constantly carried having left his features.
This didn’t make him appear boyish, per se, but it definitely made him a different Javi.
One I’d never seen before.
One who didn’t grow up alternating between the streets and the system.
One who didn’t have a mom he had to look after because she had serious mental health issues.
One who didn’t have a rich and famous dad who did everything in his power not to be a part of Javi’s life.
One whose every second of his existence didn’t lead him to forming the Shadow Soldiers in order to look out for people like him when he was a kid, and his mom, when she was trying to raise her son on the streets while coping with an untreated illness.
One who hadn’t lost two of those soldiers last December when they’d jumped into a situation Javi had advised them against jumping into and got themselves shot to death because of it.
Instead of all this, lying in bed beside me was a Javier Montoya who’d experienced none of that.
He’d gone to school, like most kids do.
He’d had a home, like most kids do.
He had two healthy and functioning parents, like all kids should have.
He didn’t have to worry where his next meal would come from, like all kids shouldn’t.
Though he still had this kick-butt, new townhome he was in the midst of doing up with things he liked, like displaying his growing collection of expensive kicks on the wall.
Also, he still had a job he enjoyed and friends who loved and respected him.
But he had all of these things with a mom who made awesome Thanksgiving dinners he looked forward to every year, and a dad who clapped him on the shoulder with pride every time he saw him.
Falling into this fantasy at seeing Javi sleeping so peacefully, it didn’t occur to me that we’d apparently had one weird date after a lot of dancing around each other, this ending with Javi lashing out at me, something we hadn’t yet fully processed, and now we’d slept in the same bed together…
twice. And neither time had I known it was happening.
No, that didn’t occur to me.
Happily ensconced in my fantasy for Javi, I didn’t think of that.
I also didn’t hesitate to do something I’d wanted to do practically upon meeting him: reach out a hand in order to trace the perfect arch of his thick, dark brow.
But I gasped when my hand was still several inches away and Javi’s eyes shot open just as his fingers caught my wrist in a punishing grip.
It was then I watched as the weight of the life he’d led settled immediately on his features, and into my consciousness.
This came from the strength of his grasp of my wrist, not to mention the speed with which he caught it, and the clear demonstration of the latent instincts that came to the fore instantaneously when he sensed something was on approach when he was vulnerable.
Right then and there, in his bed, staring into eyes that had not even an iota of sleep lingering in them, my heart shriveled in my chest as the wholeness of his life, and the devastation of it, settled into me.
His grip loosened, his eyes grew lazy, and he pressed my hand to his bare chest as he muttered, “Sorry, baby.”
He had nothing to be sorry for.
But me?
I couldn’t fight it anymore.
It wasn’t that I no longer had the strength.
It was that I no longer wanted to.
It was as if Javi read my mind, because as I scooched across the minimal distance his way, he tugged my arm around to his back, pulling me even closer.
Our bodies touched.
He bent his neck, I tipped my head back, he hesitated a fraction of a second, and in that fraction of a second, I pushed up, and our lips touched.
His were strong, insistent.
Mine were ready, willing.
They opened.
His tongue darted inside.
I whimpered.
And then, seconds into our very first kiss, I was on my back in his bed, Javi’s weight on me, one of his hands curled around the back of my neck, tilting my head, the fingers of his other hand finding the hem of my tee and diving under it as his mouth devoured mine.
It was a heady mix of too much way too fast and not enough after way too long.
I leaned into the latter part of that, arched into him and wrapped a calf around his thigh.
He ground into me and growled in my mouth, his fingers gliding up the skin over my ribs to my breast.
He cupped it and swiped his thumb tight over my already-hard nipple.
A delicious electric jolt bolted through me, so fabulous, I couldn’t stop myself from tearing my mouth from his in order to release a needy moan.
With that, his fingers tightened on my breast in a hold so possessive, so branding, I opened my eyes and saw him watching me with an expression that was so possessive, so branding, my sex flooded.
With no choice left to me, I unhooked my calf from his thigh, planted my foot in the bed, and with every ounce of my strength, I heaved up and rolled him over so I was on top.
“Baby,” he purred.
If I had any restraint left (I didn’t), that purr would have done me in.
But as it stood, it just did me in .
I latched onto his head with both hands and kissed him, this time with my tongue darting into his mouth to take my fill.
He tasted so…
Javi .
Perfect.
On a delectable grunt, Javi closed his arms around me, one hand going up into my hair, pulling my ponytail holder out, making all my hair tumble down around us, one hand going down to grab a cheek of my behind in that possessive/branding hold I’d already fallen head over heels for.
I kissed him harder, lifting my knees to straddle his hips, and rubbed my girl bits into his very hard boy bits.
He groaned.
I delightedly swallowed his amazing groan and added trembling in his arms.
His hand at my behind darted up, taking the tee with it, then skated down inside my panties, skin against skin.
Mm…
Yes .
So much better.
I broke the kiss to moan again, but I didn’t get far since Javi caught my lower lip with his teeth, then we were kissing again, and that was such a hot, potent move, I mewed, melted and rubbed against him harder.
I was in the middle of completely losing myself in his kiss while beginning to wantonly dry hump him (though, with the state of my panties, it was more a wet hump), when, in a dizzyingly quick move, our kiss was broken.
Javi had knifed up to sitting, still holding me astride his lap, both of his arms tight around me, but his head was turned to the door.
“Sweetheart?” I called, confused as to what was happening.
At my call, his head whipped to me, and my breath caught at the look on his face.
Staggered. Gentle. Warm. Proud. Affectionate. Content.
Happy.
All of that, not at war. It was resting in calm accord on every inch of his features.
After I called him one single endearment.
Wow.
He really liked me .
It was then I heard a pounding from far away, I knew it was his front door, and I was so ticked our moment was broken (this one and the ones before), I turned my head and glared at the door.
This before I let out a surprised mini shriek since I was suddenly flying through the air only to land on my ass.