Chapter 23 #2
“Wake me up or roll me off to the side if you need some space, okay? If you don’t, I’ll be on you all night,” Desmond tells me.
Him saying that as though it might be an unwelcome occurrence is pretty insane. I would like to have him on me all the time. Roll him off to the side? Jesus Christ, not in this lifetime.
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” I reply, giving him the less crazy version of the thoughts in my head.
“Have a good sleep, Jacko.” His voice is muffled by the way he’s tucked his face into the crook of my neck, now that the conversation is over and the time for rest has arrived.
It hurts my heart a little bit—how sweet of a gesture it is.
I think again of his ex, and wonder what sort of person would ever complain about this .
“You too,” I respond, keeping my eyes open to make sure sleep doesn’t come for me just yet.
I want to be awake when he drifts off. When his breathing evens, and all remaining tension bleeds from his limbs. I want to create so many new, warm, safe memories that I never have to think about the bad ones again.
A sharp spike of fear wakes me up, heart pounding.
I never slept—or woke up—well when I played for the team and we had overnight hotel stays.
I’m a creature of habit, of safety, and waking up in a different place is always difficult.
But unlike some of those mornings in the hotels, it takes me only seconds to remember where I am; to remember that the body next to me isn’t strange or scary or unwelcome.
Desmond is still asleep, thankfully not having been woken up by my jolt to consciousness. Closing my eyes again, I breathe myself back down as I take stock of our current position. He wasn’t kidding about him being on me all night.
I’d fallen asleep on my back, but must have rolled to the side at some point and tried to curl my knees up the way I usually sleep.
Desmond, also on his side, has one leg between mine and his face pressed so hard to my neck it sounds like he’s struggling to breathe.
He’s snuck one of his arms into the front of my shirt, skin hot against mine.
We are so tangled together, there’s no possibility of movement without bringing him with me.
Eyes still closed, I smile. I’m a little bit too warm, and I sort of have to pee.
Desmond’s hair is tickling my chin, and every couple of breaths he snores a bit—a cute little snort that makes my chest feel oddly tight.
This whole situation makes me feel like there’s a hand pressing hard against my heart making it difficult to breathe.
If this is how Marcos makes Nate feel all the time, it’s no wonder he can’t think or talk about anything else.
After years of living in a home where I needed to be aware of my surroundings at all times, I have impeccable hearing.
There’s a soft noise filtering under Desmond’s bedroom door, like Parker is moving around but trying to be quiet about it.
I listen, hearing the water turn on, and realize he probably just woke up to go to the bathroom.
I can’t see the time—nor can I move and grab my phone to check—but the light peeking around Desmond’s blinds is dim enough to make me think the sun is only just starting to rise.
After a few moments, it’s silent once more. Assuming Parker crawled back into bed, I close my eyes and burrow back into my own personal heaven. Desmond snuffles a bit, another little snort coming out. I’m going to die, with how fucking cute that is.
I somehow drift off back to sleep, and only surface again when Desmond’s arm—still shoved up inside my shirt—moves in a way that feels too purposeful to be sleepy.
My body temperature, which was already a little high, rises even more.
Apparently, it’s time for the “embarrassed for no reason” part of the morning routine.
How lucky for Desmond that my red face is going to be the first thing he sees. I’m going to scare the shit out of him.
Turning his face to the side, likely in an effort to obtain the fresh air that wasn’t available that close to my neck, he tries to bring his hand to his face. When he realizes that hand is caught in my shirt, he huffs a croaky laugh.
“Crawled into your shirt,” he mumbles, voice gravelly. He doesn’t pull his arm out, though, and I have no intention of asking him to.
“Morning,” I reply, so happy in this moment that my voice is practically thrumming with it. The state of my bladder is becoming serious at this point, but I’d sooner let it explode than ask him to move.
Sliding the hand in my shirt around me so he can rest it flat on my back, he strokes gently with his thumb.
My skin flushes with heat as though he did it with his tongue.
Nobody has ever touched me like this. It feels so affectionate—a mindless reach toward your person for no other reason than you wish for contact.
If anyone else touched me like this, I’m pretty sure I’d worry about why they were doing it and what they wanted from me.
But Desmond feels safe and every single interaction we’ve had has proven him so. I’m not someone who usually trusts in their gut feelings, but in this case, I know I’m right. I could never have slept here like this if that feeling of security felt false in any way.
“Jesus, I slept good,” he says, nose tickling my neck as he nuzzles closer.
“So did I, actually,” I agree. He laughs softly, hearing and understanding the sheer amount of surprise in that sentence. “You weren’t kidding about the snuggling.”
“Told you, Jacko. And not to make this weird, but you’ve got the perfect body for it.”
Startled, I laugh, the sound disproportionately loud in the quiet room.
“The perfect body for snuggling?” I clarify. “What does that mean?”
“Like a hard pillow,” he explains, which doesn’t explain much at all. I laugh again, Desmond joining in this time. He adds, “I could tell just by the look of you that you were going to be a good hugger. Good huggers usually make good cuddlers. I don’t make the rules, Jacko.”
“Fair enough.” I smile at the compliment. Hopefully being hard-pillow-shaped will mean I get to have more nights and mornings like this.
“I suppose we better get up,” Desmond says, sighing. “If breakfast isn’t ready for Parker when he wakes up, he’ll riot.”
After one more affectionate rub of his palm across my shoulders, he extracts his hand from my shirt and rolls away from me, onto his back.
Reluctantly, I let him, even though I want to clutch him tighter and never let go.
He smiles when our eyes meet, looking fresh and beautiful and a little bit sleep-rumpled.
His curls are in chaos, snagging his fingers when he tries to brush a hand through.
I blush as I watch him, staggered that a real person could be this lovely.
He yawns as he sits up, scrubbing his palms over his face. It sets me off yawning, too, even though I can’t remember ever being so well rested as I feel right now.
“You want to shower or anything?” he asks me, sliding out of the bed and stretching his back. His shirt pulls up a bit, showing a sliver of belly. I think maybe next time we do this, I’ll try sticking my hands up his shirt.
“Uhm, maybe.” I probably should, if only because I’m worried now that I was sweating all night. I don’t want to stink, and I don’t want to worry about stinking all day.
“Go for it,” he tells me, pulling a pair of sweats over his boxers. I stare at his legs as they disappear, mouth dry at the sight of the tan line on his thigh.
Before he goes, he leans over the bed toward me. I suck in a sharp breath as his face nears mine, but he merely presses a quick kiss to my temple. He’s gone a second later, slipping quietly out the bedroom door and shutting it softly behind him.
I can still feel the touch of his lips on my skin a half hour later, showered and wearing clean clothes, as I make my way out of the bedroom and down the hall.
I’d woken up so sure of my presence here, but some of that certainty has chipped away—eroded by the shower, and too many minutes alone with my thoughts.
When Desmond is around, my brain is so quiet.
So normal. But the moment he’s gone, my thoughts buzz back to life, and they are rarely on my side.
I can hear Parker talking in the kitchen.
When I round the corner, him and Desmond both have their backs to me, standing together at the counter while bacon sizzles on the stove.
Desmond laughs at whatever Parker said, the sound rich and loud over the sounds of breakfast cooking.
They look so much like a father and son, with their curly brown hair, and same narrow build.
From behind, Desmond looks like a taller version of his nephew.
“Jack!” Parker yells, turning around and catching sight of me. “You’re still here! Do you want bacon?”
“Sure,” I agree, stepping closer and feeling the awkwardness bleeding out of me the nearer I get. Parker abandons Desmond at the stove, waving me over to the dining room table where he’s got his homework spread out.
“You’re coming to the aquarium, right?” he asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer before sliding a brochure in front of me and continuing. He’s breathless with excitement. “We can touch stingrays. And dolphins. Also, they have a tiger .”
“Exploitation,” Desmond mutters under his breath. Parker glances at his uncle and grins at me.
“I’m excited to see the tiger,” he says, needling Desmond a little bit and earning a beleaguered sigh. Honestly, I’m pretty excited to see a tiger, too, but I’m sure as hell not going to say it out loud.
“You have to go for school?” I ask Parker. I never got to go cool places when I was in school, although I think that had more to do with money than anything.
“Yeah, it’s like a writing-project thing,” he replies carelessly. “But we’re mostly going for fun.”
“We’re mostly going for school,” Desmond corrects, turning around to point his spatula at him threateningly. The effect is ruined slightly by the way his face brightens as a thought occurs to him. “We could get matching shirts from the gift shop, though. ”
“Sure,” Parker agrees sarcastically, “if you want to be a loser.”
I bite back a laugh, ducking my head as Desmond returns to the stove, sighing.
Parker continues pointing out things on the aquarium brochure, apparently extremely excited about the field trip.
After Desmond puts a plate in front of him, he starts shoving food into his mouth so rapidly, one would think he hadn’t eaten in days.
“Chew, little man,” Desmond reminds him, puffing out his cheeks when Parker tries to mumble something back, bits of egg falling out of his mouth. I’ve never seen a messier eater.
The aquarium ends up being fun for everyone.
Even Desmond, who strolls through the exhibits with a pained look on his face, manages to enjoy himself, although he flat-out refuses to touch the stingrays or dolphins.
I stand back with him, watching as Parker edges his way to the pool and shoves his hand in the water.
An employee manning the exhibit approaches us, smiling.
“You’re welcome to get closer if you want! Nothing in the pool is dangerous.” Desmond scowls at her, although he’s too cute for it to be particularly menacing.
“Wild animals aren’t meant to be kept in cages or aquariums, and a petting zoo is nothing but exploitation and abuse for profit,” he tells her. Blushing, but also feeling like I might laugh, I rock back on my heels and look anywhere but at the employee’s shocked expression.
“Oh, well…conservation and knowledge are two of our pillars of excellence. We strive to educate the public and bring awareness to these beautiful creatures.” Her effort to bring this conversation back onto comfortable ground is bl own to smithereens as Desmond pounces on her pillars of excellence and destroys them.
“What sort of conservation are you involved in? And how do you obtain these ‘beautiful creatures’? Were they bred in captivity, or were they caught in the wild? I didn’t see anything about reintroduction programs or rehabilitation when I was educating myself with your literature.
You certainly can’t release these animals”—he gestures toward the pool, where Parker is currently leaning over the wall to pet a dolphin—“after you’ve allowed human contact.
But why not, right? Good way to get money for all the conservation . ”
And that is my cue to bail , I think, edging away and walking over to Parker. He sees me coming and smiles.
“You’re super red,” he comments, glancing behind me. “Is Desmond yelling at the aquarium people?”
“Yeah. He’s a little scary,” I tell him, making him snort.
“When we get home he’s probably going to donate money to, like, fish lovers international or something.”
I burst out laughing, clapping a hand to my mouth when the sound echoes too loud in the room. My body is so hot right now, I’m tempted to throw myself in with the dolphins. Parker laughs, pulling his hand from the water and shaking it out before wiping it down his jeans.
“You are so red,” he repeats. Wrinkling his nose, he peers down at his hand. “I smell like fish.”
“There’s some hand sanitizer over there.” I follow him over to the stand watching as he douses himself and rubs it all the way up his arms. Desmond joins us. I peek over his shoulder to see the poor aquarium employee beating a hasty retreat.
“Ready to burn this place to the ground?” Parker asks him. I tip my head back and stare into the ceiling lights, trying not to laugh.
“Don’t joke about arson,” Desmond says sternly, as we leave the hands-on exhibit. I smile when he adds under his breath, “But, yes.”
The day doesn’t end with matching shirts purchased at the gift shop, although Parker does make a well-aimed barb about the fact that us buying something would put more money in the aquarium’s pocket. He grins happily when this earns him a glare from his uncle.
“What shall we have for dinner?” Desmond asks as we climb into the car.
“Seafood,” I answer immediately, voice quiet but nonetheless loud enough for both of them to hear. Parker whoops with laughter, and holds his hand between the front seats for a low five.
“Good one,” he compliments, while Desmond looks between us, expression torn between amused and tender.
“Take-the-piss-out-of-Desmond day, I see how it is,” he complains, with no heat behind the words.
“That’s every day,” Parker tells him. “You make it so easy. And now Jack and I can double-team you. You won’t stand a chance.”
Desmond puts a hand against his chest and shakes his head, pretending to be wounded. Every time I look over on our drive home, though, he’s got a smile on his face and the car is filled with the content, happy warmth of a day well spent with people you love.