Chapter 15 #2
My whole chest went hot, and I kissed him just so I didn’t say anything I really, really didn’t need to be saying in this moment. His tongue was warm against mine, and he tasted a little bit like old coffee. And his hands were so, so warm when they brushed up and down my back.
“Don’t you have a family thing this afternoon?” he asked when we finally broke apart. “Maybe we shouldn’t get too worked up.”
I groaned and knocked my forehead against his. “I want to skip it.”
“Isn’t the whole point of me to make them wildly uncomfortable and also drive home the fact that you’re a ridiculous catch, and they should be fucking lucky to share the same air as you?”
“No one will ever believe that,” I said, pulling back.
Aravind followed me, then snagged my chin and kissed me again. Hard. “Learn your worth, my pretty little bowl of perfectly cooked basmati rice.”
“You are so weird.”
I couldn’t see his smile, but I could feel it when he kissed me a third time. “I know. Now, do you want me to take photos of our amazing handiwork so you can see it later?”
My chest got even warmer as I let him go. “Yeah. I think that would be nice.”
By the time I had the sand washed off me and a fresh set of clothes on, I had four text messages from Thierry in my notifications. I didn’t bother to read past the first one, which was him demanding to know where we were, why we were late to the beach lunch, and when we’d be coming by.
I really did have half a mind to skip it, but doing that would leave Aravind suspicious of my motivations. Fucking him, kissing him, touching him were all the benefits to why I was here. It wasn’t meant to be the reason.
And I wasn’t sure how he’d react if he found out that these little sparks under my skin that he was causing had started to turn into burning flames of want. And not just for his body.
But for everything else he had to offer.
And for a future that I was trying my damnedest not to visualize because what the fuck would a guy like him want with someone like me?
I might not be a total sad sack of shit, but I was at least a sad, small tote bag of shit. And who would want that?
Aravind was on the pool deck with his feet in the water when I came outside. Using my phone camera, I was able to scan the yard better, especially now that clouds had rolled in to dull some of the light.
He was wearing a sort of rich purple-colored top that fell off one shoulder and jeans that he’d rolled up to the knee. He caught me looking and waved me over.
“Is it time to go?” he asked as I carefully made my way down the paved walkway. I was back in my brace, which was making it hard to walk without a cane, but I trusted Aravind wouldn’t let me fall in the water.
“We can still skip it,” I told him. “They’re probably back from the beach now, and no one is going to be in a decent mood.”
“You know I can hold my own.”
The water splashed gently as he stood up, and soon enough, he had hands at my waist. I liked the way he was always touching me and manhandling me. It wasn’t in a patronizing way—like he didn’t trust I could find my own way. It was almost like he wanted to be in contact with me for his own pleasure.
And that was something I’d never get used to.
“Well, if you really want to subject yourself to their bullshit, we can go,” I finally said.
He trailed a touch down my arm, then tangled his fingers with mine. “For PDA practice,” he said when I made an unthinking, curious noise.
I held his hand a little tighter, and we made our way to the car.
The drive wasn’t long—shorter than it felt last night and a little heavier.
When he’d driven me away from the beach house, I felt free.
And today, it was easier walking up the driveway with him because it no longer meant I was trapped by their schedules and their ideas and their shitty version of family obligation.
But I also wanted to be anywhere else.
“There’s no cars here,” Aravind said, stopping just before the first step that led to the front door. I tapped the edge of the step with my cane to orient myself, then frowned and turned my head.
He was right. Last night, there had been cars in the driveway and at the curb. Now, there was nothing. Pulling out my phone, I navigated to my brother’s last message and then held the phone an inch away from my eye so I could read it.
Thierry: We’re going out to a late lunch. Ollie is staying back. You can hang out with him if you want. Mom’s pissed.
With a sigh, I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “They went out for food, and there’s going to be some kind of guilt trip when they get back. But my nephew’s here if you want to hang out.”
Aravind hummed. “Yeah, why not. I can snoop around and dig into all their suitcases.”
“I don’t think you’re going to find anything interesting,” I warned as I tried the door handle and found it unlocked.
“Boooo,” Aravind said as we stepped inside.
I kicked my shoes off, and he followed suit, and then I pulled him toward the living room. “Oliver?”
“No one’s in here,” Aravind said, “but I think I see someone outside on the deck. Oh, there’s no pool,” he added. “Bummer. Is your nephew cool?”
I frowned. “I don’t know him that well, but probably. He didn’t seem thrilled with his parents’ behavior last night.”
“We can invite him over if he wants a break from all this weird WASPy bullshit.”
I snorted as Aravind took the lead, and we made our way out the back door. It was easier with my white cane and the dimly lit afternoon, and I eventually found Oliver’s head of dark hair in one of the chairs.
“Dad said you were coming by,” he muttered. I could feel his eyes on me as I made my way closer. “You really need that thing out here?”
Oh, good. My parents had gotten to him too.
Squeezing the cane handle, I fought back a sigh. “I need it where I need it. And as much as everyone complains about it looking weird, it keeps me from falling on my face or cracking my head open. Or walking into traffic.”
There was a tense silence, and then I heard Oliver shift on the chair. “So, it’s that bad?”
“Do you want me to intervene?” Aravind asked very softly.
Shaking my head, I turned to him. “I think he’s actually curious. If you want to go snoop around, I’ll be alright here. Just…when they get back…” I didn’t know how to tell him I didn’t want to be alone with my family without sounding pathetic.
“I won’t leave your side.” He leaned in and laid a soft kiss to my jaw that threatened to destroy me. And then he was gone.
I found the chair nearest to Oliver and sat, doing everything I could to not look like I was catching my breath after that kiss. I could feel more tension coming off my nephew, and I couldn’t help wondering if maybe he was some dipshit, homophobic jock just like his dad and other uncle.
“Your boyfriend?”
“Something like that.” It felt kind of terrible to lie to this kid. “It’s new.”
Oliver cleared his throat, then said, “Does it suck?”
“New relationships?”
“No,” he scoffed. “The…not-seeing thing. I mean, it has to suck, right? Feeling fine, feeling normal. Then suddenly—wham. Fucking blind.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly, “it wasn’t like that at all.
It was more like having shitty-as-fuck night vision and no peripheral vision and parents who didn’t notice until I started running into things.
Then it was the doctors telling me that it was going to get worse and me waiting around for years and years and thinking oh, it’s not so bad. Until it was so bad.”
He made a soft noise. “Years?”
“Several long years of plateaus where the doctors weren’t sure if it was going to stay that way or progress further.
The last year, it’s been…a lot. I lost all my light perception in this eye.
” I touched my right one. “This one has about two percent, give or take.” My finger made a shadow past the pinholes in my left eye. “Hockey helped.”
He made a disbelieving noise. “Right.”
“I’m not joking. I mean, it’s not for everyone, and I get it—Canadian family, what a stereotype, right? But it helped me feel, I don’t know, like I belonged somewhere, I guess.”
“Your knee though. Is it true you might not play again after that check?”
I released a sharp puff of air. I hadn’t realized he knew about how I got hurt. “Yep. It fucking sucks. A lot.”
I could hear Oliver drumming his fingers on something solid. Probably the arm of the chair. “Everyone thinks that your life is hard. Being, like, blind or whatever. Like it’s over, and if you didn’t do hockey, you wouldn’t do anything at all.”
“They didn’t make it easy on me,” I told him.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I know about your dad. I mean, about Grandpa and…and Grandma and everything. They never realize I’m in the room when Dad and Uncle Peter start talking shit.”
I had no idea what to say to that.
“Our family’s kind of fucked, isn’t it?”
I burst into laughter, unable to stop myself, and I felt a little better when I heard Oliver hiding his with his hand. “They’re kind of fucked, yeah.”
Oliver sighed, and I could hear the chair creaking as he leaned back against it. The drumming started again, and then he said, “I tested, like, positive or whatever.”
I froze. “You…what?”
“For RP. For that gene. Dad figured it out. He took us all out to see a meteor shower last year, and I couldn’t see the stars.
He told me my eyes were just tired, but I knew he was panicking.
Then I failed my driving test because I couldn’t see the lights they were flashing. Mom had a complete meltdown.”
I was struggling to focus on what he was saying. “Oliver…”
“I’m, uh…I’m scared. Like, really fucking scared.
Mom and Dad think I’m going to do something stupid, like walk into traffic.
” The tone of his voice told me he’d thought about it.
Probably more than once. “Dad told me you were coming this week. I think he thought I’d stop freaking out if I saw my cool, rich hockey player uncle living his best life or whatever.
But no offense, bruh, you don’t look like you’re living your best life. ”