16. Chapter 16 #2
“Onwards and upwards,” I murmured as I sank deeper into the water.
We stewed in a comfortable silence with only the occasional sloshing of the water. Summoner seemed content on the floor of my bathroom. I couldn’t help peeking over my shoulder at him. He sat with head against the wall, his eyes closed.
“Question,” I mumbled.
“I might have an answer.” Smirking, he opened his eyes.
“What were you reading this morning?”
“So, you know how they always make it seem like Millennials are the only ones who buy things from their childhood?”
I nodded.
“That’s a lie. I used to devour these cheap pulp fiction paperbacks as a kid. Now that I have money, I like collecting old copies. This one is about a guy who travels through the English countryside hunting vampires.”
“Any good?”
“Not really.” He snorted. “But in this case, I’m fueled by a sense of nostalgia.”
“Nothing wrong with nostalgia.”
“Eh, some would say that it is the source of everything wrong with the world.”
Summoner helped scrub my back. With gentle strokes, he ran the sponge over my back.
The occasional brush of his palm or fingertip flickered zaps under my skin.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and gnawed.
Emotional state aside, the man’s touch was addictive.
Soapy water flowed down my spine and over my shoulders.
I actively forced myself to keep my wits.
He quietly stood up and held out the towel that had been resting on his shoulder.
I pulled the tub plug, filling the room with the loud, hungry sounds of water being sucked down the drain.
Wrapped in the towel, I stepped into my bedroom and flopped down on the edge of my bed.
Summoner sat at my desk and respectfully looked in the opposite direction from the dripping wet young woman across from him.
Thighs pressed together, I grabbed a bottle of lotion from my nightstand and started moisturizing my skin.
The long sweeping motions of my hands were ignored by Summoner’s polite nature.
My hands lingered over my breasts as they apparently needed extra lotion.
A moan died in my throat. Sufficiently lotioned and worked up, I squirmed on top of my sheets.
“Can I admit something?” I breathed.
“Hmmm?” Summoner tilted his head slightly.
“…I…I…I really want you to fuck me right now.”
My confession floated on the air between us. The office chair swiveled around to face me. He looked at me with stony eyes. His throat bobbed as he swallowed harshly. My heart rate and internal temperature shot up a million degrees.
“…Poppy, in your current state, I don’t think that would be best…”
I couldn’t help my huff. He was right, but my hormones screamed otherwise.
I’d been here before. A side effect of my depression-broken brain that led to some questionable sexual choices.
I craved connection, closeness. I wanted to be needed even if it was purely lust-driven.
Rightfully rejected, I expected Summoner to leave the room, but he walked over to me.
God…
He stood in front of me, captivating me with his presence. His green eyes held me.
“I want you to see your psychiatrist first. Once that’s squared away…” He grabbed my chin with the slightest amount of pressure. Ever so slowly, his thumb dragged across my bottom lip. I was breathless.
“I won’t hesitate to fuck you so hard and for so long, you can’t stop screaming my name.”
His hand fell away, and my jaw dropped.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
“You should eat something. Get dressed.” With a hint of a smirk on his face, he turned on his heels and left the room.
After a long moment of cursing myself and my broken brain, I got dressed.
All my brain could muster was a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.
I sat on the couch, and Summoner presented me with a large bowl of Fruit Loops and my heart flopped in my chest. He settled beside me with his paperback and put on his glasses.
He read, and I tried to keep my munching to a minimum.
I slurped down my milk and sat my empty bowl on the table.
“Tired?” he asked.
“A little bit,” I admitted.
“Come over and give us a cuddle.”
Cheeks warm, I settled against his side.
His arm anchored me to him. My shoulders sagged as I let out a sigh.
My cheek pressed against his chest. The steady rise and fall as he breathed soothed me.
I closed my eyes and allowed myself the moment.
There was no violence from my brain. Just the quiet peace of his company.
***
“Huh? Was I asleep long?” I slowly sat up as a sleepy fog dissipated from my brain.
“Almost two hours.” Summoner pulled his arm from around me and stretched it overhead.
“I didn’t mean to sleep so long.”
“It’s fine. It gave me a chance to finish my book.”
“How was it?”
“Utter trash. I can’t wait to read the next one.” He smirked. “Besides, it’s a good thing you woke up. I can ask you some questions.”
“Questions?”
“Yeah. Moore wanted to double check if you had any food allergies or aversions.”
“Why?”
“Since your kitchen is so woefully stocked, I sent Moore to pick us up some things. Snacks and the like.”
I blanched, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“But I did.” He waved his hand.
It was nothing to him, and for some reason it bothered me.
A few minutes later, Summoner let in a heavily sighing Moore, who carried several bags of groceries in each hand.
I stared in amazement as he put everything on my kitchen floor.
I stayed on the couch, watching as Summoner and Moore sorted things into the fridge and cabinets.
Chicken thighs, half a watermelon, pasta noodles, celery, bell peppers, milk, cans of chicken soup, crackers, spreadable cheese, chocolate chip cookie dough, lean hamburger meat, tea bags, coffee filters, a loaf of wheat bread, and butter were some things I watched them placed in my kitchen.
Moore was very thorough, and I appreciated him more than I could say.
“That should keep you stocked up for a while. Feel free to freeze anything you might not use right away.” Moore leaned against the fridge and smiled.
I pushed myself off the couch and threw my arms around him. My cheek pressed against the cool smoothness of his leather jacket.
“Feel better soon, baby girl. Keep your head up.” His smooth voice reassured me as he patted my back.
I swallowed back a sob. This connection.
This support. Everything I wished I had with dad.
Maybe because they were both black men, I saw a reflection of who dad could have been.
The supportive man I needed when I struggled with my mental health.
Most of my childhood was like growing up in a hall of broken mirrors—too many reflections, too much damage.
I squeezed Moore’s torso hard before reluctantly letting him go.
Once Moore was free from my weird embrace, Summoner shifted and coughed, “…You forgot the thing…”
Moore’s eyes widened. “Right! Be right back!”
He bolted out of the apartment, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
I looked to Summoner, who skillfully avoided eye contact with me.
Moments later, Moore returned with an enormous bouquet of red roses, their vibrant petals surrounding a few plump red poppies.
The flowers were arranged carefully and tied with a golden ribbon.
“A little something to cheer you up.” Summoner smirked.
“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl,” Moore added as he placed the bouquet on the kitchen island.
As someone who had only been given gas station bouquets, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the flowers, their sweet scent filling the room. I gingerly touched one of the soft petals, marveling at its beauty.
“You thought of this?” I turned to Summoner.
Moore shook his head with a chuckle. “We workshopped it. I turned down his other idea about something involving a mournful Shakespearian sonnet and a lute.”
“What’s a lute?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Moore burst out laughing while Summoner rubbed at the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Oh, Poppy. Boss here is an amazing guy, but you’ve gotta realize relationships aren’t his forte. Be sympathetic, but also understand that he’s a dumbass.”
Summoner shot Moore a glare, but there was a hint of fondness underneath it all. “Thanks for that, Moore. Really helpful.”
“Just keeping things honest, Boss.” He slapped Summoner’s shoulder. “Did you still want me to bring up your bag?”
Summoner shook his head, gesturing for Moore to wait. “I’ll walk you down. Be right back Poppy!”
As they headed for the door, Moore abruptly turned around on his heels and dug around on the inside of his coat.
He retrieved a small plastic baggy. I noticed the familiar lacy material inside —my missing underwear.
My jaw dropped and my internal temperature shot up a million degrees.
Shrieking, I snatched the bag out of his hand.
“Don’t worry, I cleaned them,” he chuckled.
I tossed the baggy over my shoulder. “Thank you! What can’t you do?” I asked, as if I wasn’t already dead inside.
“I’m sure there are a few things.” He shrugged.
The door clicked closed softly behind them.
I found myself dazed, staring at the wall.
My whole life, I was so used to taking care of everyone else as some sort of cosmic repentance for my birth crime.
I needed everyone around me to be okay, to have their needs met, forsaking all mine.
Being cared for felt odd. Like the constant annoyance of an itchy sweater.
The echo of Summoner’s heavy footsteps down the hall pulled me out of my head.
Shivering, he closed the front door behind him and kicked off his boots.
Over his shoulder, he carried a black duffel bag.
“I’m so sick of this fucking winter shit,” he groaned.
“You could have worn a coat.”
Ignoring that comment, he walked past me to put his bag in my bedroom.
“So, did any of the food Moore bought look good?” he asked.
“Uh…yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?”