Chapter 8 #2
His eyebrows twitch like he’s trying not to laugh, then shuts the door.
“I love pancakes,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
I know.
I know which diner you prefer, which booth you always sit in. But I’m trying to pretend to be civilized, so I don’t say any of that.
“Want to eat on your bed?” I ask, lifting the bag.
“Go ahead, I’ll get us some plates and forks.”
I nod and head toward the bedroom, sit on the edge of his bed. Clover’s still passed out in the same spot I left her when I snuck out an hour ago. Her little legs twitch like she’s dreaming.
His bare pillow stares back at me. The case is still safely hidden inside my hoodie, pressed against my skin. Warm from my body heat now. Mine.
Tonight, I’ll find out if stealing more pieces of him helps me sleep or just makes the craving worse.
Probably worse.
Kelly walks in with two plates, a stack of napkins, silverware balanced on top. He’s smiling, dimples showing. He sets everything down and sits beside me. His knee bumps mine, and he doesn’t move it. I lean toward him before I realize I’m doing it. Like a plant toward sunlight. Fuck.
“Why don’t you have any furniture?” I ask, eyeing the room. Just a bed and a desk shoved against the far wall. Nothing else.
He rubs the back of his neck, suddenly awkward. “Oh, uh. Please don’t think I’m weird. I swear I’m not. I just haven’t really made this place mine yet.”
Would it be weird if I bought him furniture? Is that another boundary I’m not supposed to cross? I could fill this entire apartment with everything he needs. Everything he wants. Make it perfect for him.
Restraint is harder than making people disappear. Who fucking knew.
But I’m trying. For him.
I could just take him instead. Lock him in my place where he’d be safe, protected, mine. Keep him there until he understands there’s nowhere on this Earth he can hide from me.
The thought fills me with quiet satisfaction. But that would scare him. He’s not ready yet.
So I’ll keep pretending. Keep letting him think he has a choice in this. For now.
I’ve never done this before. Never wanted to. The times I fucked women, I had to make myself do it. Had to close my eyes and pretend. Women who didn’t ask why I was so detached, why I never looked at them. Get it done, get out. No names, no pancakes, definitely no furniture shopping.
Just evidence I wasn’t what my family would kill me for being. I learned that lesson young given what happened to my mother’s twin brother for loving another man.
We open the bags. I slide some pancakes onto his plate, then mine, and hand him the syrup. He cuts into them and lifts the fork, bites down, closes his eyes for a second and lets out a low, satisfying moan.
I wonder if he’d moan the same way if I put my tongue on him. If I’d get to taste every fucking sound.
I shove the thought down.
“I think we own the same soap,” he says, chewing, smiling at his plate. “You smell like coconuts and lime.”
I look at him. “Da. Very strange coincidence.”
He hums, amused, and takes another bite. I stab into mine and chew. I get it now. I get why he’s obsessed with this place. These pancakes are ridiculous.
“I’m not very good at this,” I admit.
He shoots me a curious look. “At what?”
“Talking.” I pause, struggling to find the words. This is harder than I thought it would be.
“Why not?”
Because the more someone knows about you, the more power they have.
“I don’t know.” I look at him. “But I’m trying. With you.”
His expression softens. “That means a lot. Really.”
I nod, not sure what else to say. This is new territory. Uncomfortable. But I don’t want to stop.
“Did you have the stitches removed yet?” He asks.
I shrug. “I took them out myself.”
He looks at me like I’m insane, shakes his head, and takes another bite of his pancake.
“Kelly.”
He glances over, mouth still half full.
“Do I scare you?”
He chokes. Actual cough, mid-chew, like I just hit him in the throat. He scrambles for his drink and takes a few gulps, rubbing the corner of his eye where it’s watering.
“Jesus,” he mutters, still coughing. “What a conversation starter.”
I need to know. I need to understand how much truth he can handle before he sees the real me, and it scares him enough to run. Not that he could get far. I would always find him.
He clears his throat again and sets the cup down. “When you pointed a gun at me, yeah. I was scared. At the club too. It was a little weird how you just knew where I lived.”
“But not now?”
He meets my eyes, then shakes his head. “No.”
I’d never hurt him. Never.
But if anyone else tries to? I’ll bury them alive. Slowly. Make sure they feel every second of it. I’ve never had boundaries when it comes to things I want, and with him, I don’t even pretend they exist. He just doesn’t realize he’s already mine. Hasn’t figured it out yet. He will.
He puts his hand over mine, then looks at me. He rubs his thumb over my tattooed skin, then looks into my eyes.
“You’re different than one would think when they first see you.”
“You mean when I pointed the gun at you and told you I would kill you?”
He rolls his eyes. “Can we just ignore that part?”
He wants to ignore that part? I can’t figure this man out.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I sigh. I choose to ignore it this time, just for a few more minutes. I want a few more minutes. That’s it. Just a few. I waited all fucking day for this.
His soft hands keep rubbing back and forth over my skin, sending prickles up my arms and leaving goose bumps.
“You going to answer that?”
“Nyet.”
“Will you say something in Russian to me?”
“Ya pokazyvayu tebe chasti sebya, kotorye nikto ne vidit.” I’m showing you parts of myself no one else ever sees.
“What does it mean?”
I shrug.
“You can’t just say something that sounds that beautiful and not tell me.” He’s smiling now. “Please?”
He keeps grinning at me, and I’m transfixed by the way his tongue drags across his bottom lip. I can’t look away, can’t breathe properly. His fingers tighten around my hand, and I turn my palm over immediately, threading our fingers together.
His breath stutters, and the sound makes something in me settle and ignite at the same time. My hand swallows his. Makes him look smaller, more breakable than he is. I want to memorize this. The warmth of his palm against mine, the way his fingers fit between mine.
He’s seeing parts of me I didn’t know still existed. Never knew touch could feel like this, deliberate and tender.
My phone buzzes again, and he pulls his hand back. The loss of contact feels wrong. I close my eyes, jaw clenched, then drag the phone out.
Group Chat: screwups
Mikhail:
added Calder
Calder:
***
Mikhail:
ALEXEIIII
Mikhail:
Where are you
Daniil:
Maybe he’s busy
Mikhail:
Doing what? he has no life
Calder:
True. Fun requires a personality
Mikhail:
Exactly
Me:
What do you want asshole? I’m busy
Mikhail:
Father has another job for you and Calder. Wants it done tonight…
Me:
Since when do you run errands for him?
Me:
And did you tell him about the retired detective yet like you said you would?
Mikhail:
I’m literally standing right next to him you dick
Mikhail:
And fuck no I didn’t tell him
Mikhail:
He’s in one of those moods where breathing wrong gets you a broken nose
Mikhail:
I’ll tell him later I swear
He sends a blurry selfie of him and Father who looks five seconds from murder.
He saves his cruelest lessons for Mikhail.
Always has. The rest of us learned to duck and weave around his moods, but with Mikhail, Father dissects his every move, pushes him past his breaking point, then pushes harder.
Like he’s trying to carve something specific out of him, even if it kills what’s left.
Me:
Text me the details
Me:
And grow some balls
Mikhail:
WAIT
Mikhail:
What are you busy with Alexei?
Calder:
I just got home from cleaning Alexei’s mess and I had plans too you dick
Mikhail:
YOU BOTH HAVE PLANS?
Mikhail:
Since when do you two have social lives
Mikhail:
Is it a girl Alexei? Someone actually likes you?
Daniil:
Focus please
Mikhail:
Sending details but were talking about this later
I turn off my phone and clutch it.
“I need to go.”
Kelly nods. “Okay. I’ll walk you to the door.”
I move and give Clover a quick pet on the head. She twitches but doesn’t wake up. Smart rabbit. She’s keeping my secrets. Good girl.
I stop at the door. Same fucking thing as yesterday. Interrupted again. I should’ve turned my phone off the second I got here. Next time I’m staying until I’m ready to leave.
“Will you tell me now what it meant?” he asks.
I glance back. “Just that the pancakes were good.”
He scrunches his nose. “That’s it? Seriously?”
If he knew what I really said, he’d never let me back in here.
“I was expecting something else,” he says, suspicious now.
He wraps his arms around me without warning. His face presses against my chest, and I feel his breath through my shirt. My hands stay frozen at my sides like my brain just stopped working.
“Sorry, I’m a hugger,” he mumbles against my chest. “Thanks for the pancakes.”
I want to wrap my arms around him and never let go. I want to carry him back to that bed and keep him there until the rest of the world disappears.
He lets go and steps back like nothing happened. Looks at me with a small smile, easy and soft, like he didn’t just completely destroy every defense I have.
My mother hugged me when I was small. Before I became this. Before I learned that affection is weakness and it gets you killed. I forgot what that felt like until Kelly. Now I remember everything I lost. All those years of no one, and now him. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.
“Have a good night, Alexei.”
I stare at him for a beat longer. “You too.”
I walk out before I do something that crosses every line we haven’t crossed yet.