Chapter 18 Ash #2
“Worst case you can’t stand me another second and you bail out to a hotel or motel or whatever. Which you were going to do anyway. The way I see it, you’ve really got nothing to lose.”
I touch his face, frame it in my hands. My thumbs skate along his cheekbones, run up to the corners of his eyes. “Not true,” I say quietly. “I could lose you.”
“If you fuck off forever, you’ll lose me anyway.”
My head sinks down until my forehead touches his, and I close my eyes.
I let myself imagine it for a fanciful moment, being with him for real.
Together, in Miami. Maybe not as an out-and-out couple—it’s a lot to expect, I think, from someone who is just coming around to the fact he’s bisexual after suppressing it for years—but at least having him at home. Knowing he was mine in that sense.
Having a boyfriend at all…I’ve never had one before. I don’t know what that’s like. A little like this, maybe? What we’ve had for the last few days.
Which is just so…nice.
“Hey.” Sam’s nuzzling his nose against mine, moving in closer. “Say yes, butterfly. I’d love it.”
“Would you?”
“Yeah.” His lips gently brush mine. “I mean it when I say I really like you. I’ve told you a million times already and you still don’t get it, for some reason, but I do.”
I believe him. I do. I believe he likes this version I’ve presented him.
And I think, as I worm my way into his arms and into his kisses, that maybe it’s true I can simply reinvent myself now that I’m so far away from home and everything bad I’ve done.
I could very possibly become this person he thinks I am.
“Maybe…”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe we can do it. The…thing. Living with you for a little while. Just a little while,” I say louder, when Sam lights up and opens his mouth to offer, no doubt, some other impossible promises and commitments. “Until I find my own place.”
“Of course.” He’s smiling, big and cheesy. “Whatever you want. You can have your own room and everything. I’ll totally leave you alone unless you want me.”
“Hmm...”
“With late night booty calls?”
“Or early morning.”
“Oh—” He grins again. “You’re into the real freak shit.”
“What’s wrong with morning sex?”
“Nothing.” He’s nuzzling me again, extra affectionate now that I’ve agreed to be his temporary live-in boy toy. He squashes his nose against my cheek. “I can crawl into your bed and fuck you at six AM.”
“Okay. Not that early.”
“Seven…eight…”
“I dunno, Sam. Maybe I’ll miss you.”
“Oh, what?” And he’s absolutely delighted with this notion, of course, for some reason, probably the only male on this planet to actually be into that sort of thing. In my experience. “You’re gonna what? Miss me?”
“I might,” I admit begrudgingly. “Might be weird to sleep alone. After all this.”
“I’d be a door down, though.”
“Okay, fine. Fuck off to your room forever, then. See if I care.”
He laughs. “We can share. I don’t care.” Of course he doesn’t. “But I’ll make up the other room anyway. You know, in case you get sick of me. And you know, if you need rides to like, job interviews or apartments or whatever—”
“I can get around, Sam. I’ve done it my whole life.”
“Miami’s big.”
“Providence isn’t small.”
“Miami’s bigger, I bet.”
“Okay, Sam. Whatever you say.” Even if he is right.
“You know, it’s okay to ask for help.” He hooks my hair behind my ears. “Right? Like, that’s not a bad thing. And I don’t mind at all. I’m offering. I’ve been offering. I’m not doing that for my health.”
“You’ve already helped me so much, though.
Like…above and beyond, Sam, truly. Not just driving me all the way down, but with that asshole back in North Carolina, and my seizures and stuff—I don’t think a lot of people would’ve looked out for me that way.
” I hold his dark gaze when I tell him this, because I want him to know that I mean it.
“I keep meaning to thank you for that, so…”
“It’s nothing. Really. Like I don’t even think about it. It’s just, y’know, a thing you need and that’s fine.” The smile he gives me is softer this time. “And if you say some dumb shit like you’re a burden or something, I’m gonna get mad.”
“What if I think it?”
He gently pokes my forehead. “I’ll know. And I’ll, I dunno. Be insufferable about it.”
I let him have it, then. I snuggle under his chin as he folds his arms back around me and fine, I guess I’ll revel in the feeling of not being this weight around his ankle. If he really doesn’t care. If it’s really not such a big deal.
Sam’s so tender, stroking my hair and pressing kisses to the top of my head as we cuddle in the velvety, sultry darkness.
Sweet in a way I would never expect from him, not at a glance, anyway.
He just looks like someone who doesn’t need to be nice, who can coast by on looks alone and doesn’t have any reason at all to develop a personality or empathy.
He’s got a sort of gorgeousness that usually goes hand in hand with vapidity.
But still waters run deep and all that. He’s not just handsome, he’s interesting.
Has lived the sort of life I didn’t really even know existed, straddling cultures in a way I never thought about.
He brushed up against a world that, to me, felt so terribly far away, but for him it was both in his blood and in his backyard.
Was a reality not simply whispered about in hushed tones or stated, unfeeling and neutral, in newsprint.
Now I know what it means to want to know everything about someone, too. All these things I’ve come to appreciate and adore about Sam—I just want more of them. More of him.
I take inventory of him. His gorgeousness.
The handsome, heartbreaker face with the high cheekbones and square jaw, the full lips and broad nose.
The sable eyes with lashes long enough to make a Covergirl model envious.
The broad shoulders, the sculpted traps, the lovely biceps and tapering forearms with the veins.
Smooth skin, utterly perfect and unblemished.
No one had ever used him as an ashtray. No one had ever dug their nails into him until he bled. No one had ever tried to hurt him. He’s been loved, and generously. For that, I’m glad.
“I can’t wait to show you around,” he murmurs to me. “All my favorite places. Where to eat and hang out. And the best beach spots, too.”
I close my eyes and smile.
I can’t wait, either.