Epilogue #2
To my surprise, the prospect of hearing what Patrice was going to say didn’t make me cringe in trepidation.
I knew whatever it was, it didn’t mean things were shaky or that if I didn’t change, it was over.
Just something to work on, together. So my heart beat steadily in my chest, as I waited for Patrice to think over his answer.
“Hmmm we’re getting better at it, but we sometimes wait too long to air grievances.” Even as he spoke, he kissed my neck and face, soothing the blow.
I nodded in agreement and kissed his palm again. “This is true. We are getting better, and we are still not that great at being open about what bothers us in the moment. I wonder if we could use a new tactic—”
“Okay, but why do I have the feeling this is going to go down the fucking path,” he said, voice full of humor.
“Uh, because you know me and my thirst.” I clapped my hands, ready to laugh my ass off at his reaction to what I was going to say. “Hear me out before you veto my idea. Are you ready?”
He grinned at my teasing and waved a hand in a “get on with it” motion.
“Grievance oral! Whenever we need to say something that we think may be hard for the other person to hear, we soften the blow with a blow job. Pun intended.” I added smugly, barely able to get the words out, and Patrice was laughing so hard, I had to move out of the way to give him space.
I turned around to face him and he had his fist over his mouth like he did when he was practically convulsing from laughing so hard.
Which he did a lot these days, because I could be a clown.
“Bébé, we need to report back to the therapist. I am not getting into grievance oral with her!” He did sound a little terrified, but he was grinning so hard, the corners of his eyes were crinkled.
“I’ll report back on this one, I can keep it PG though. But at least admit you like my idea.”
I was on my knees facing him and he tugged on my hand to bring me closer. He was still sitting with his legs spread on the bed, that massive chest still moving up and down fast after the laughing fit. “You’re lucky I’m so into you.”
It was like everything he said was a reason for me to say something corny. But before I did, he got us back on track. “What are the qualities we value in each other?” Patrice asked, making me squirm. That one would go to a place that was hard for me. I did not do well with compliments.
I pointed at my chest. “I’ll go first.”
Patrice
If anyone would’ve told me a year ago that I’d be elated to be sitting in bed on a Tuesday night talking about my feelings with my almost live-in boyfriend, I would’ve told them to fuck right off in no uncertain terms. But here I was, one month out of finishing my first year at Cornell, anxiously waiting to hear what Easton had to say.
I knew he’d asked to go first because he hated hearing people say nice things about him.
Too bad, because I was going in on all the fucking ways he made me ridiculously happy.
We stared at each other for a bit and as per usual, Easton draped himself on me.
When we were in bed, it was practically mandatory to be touching at all times, and we were in bed together every night these days.
We took turns between my place and his, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept alone.
It was hard to recall much of how it felt to be without Easton, to be honest.
As he moved limbs around, getting us wrapped around each other exactly how he wanted, he started talking.
“I love how fiercely loyal you are to your friends. How open you are about your love for them,” he said, talking with his face against my neck, warm breath tickling my skin.
“I don’t get jealous of them anymore, but at first.” He paused, nipping on my neck, and then running his tongue over the spot.
“That’s not fair play.” I groaned, helplessly turned on.
He smiled against my neck and lifted those moss-colored eyes at me.
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry, but there was a vulnerability there.
He didn’t want to say this next part. “That first time you came back to Ithaca when Nesto opened the restaurant and you totally ignored me.” My stomach dipped at how sad he sounded. God I could be such an asshole.
“It was hard seeing you with them, but I still loved how you got along. It’s so amazing how you open up with the people you love, how you look so serious all the time, but for them, for me, you’re soft and sweet.”
I almost grimaced at that description. Soft and sweet were not words I associated with myself, but I leaned into how it felt to hear them from Easton. It felt good to be that to him.
“I think I was so distant from you because you scared the shit out of me.” I laughed humorlessly as he pressed soft kisses to my neck.
“The things you made me want, I was terrified of letting myself have them. I didn’t know what would happen if I got you and then you realized I wasn’t enough.
From that first night, I knew you could be everything I ever needed and the thought of getting so much and losing it.
” I shuddered out a gusty breath. “It terrified me.”
I shut my eyes hard after saying that, and without speaking, Easton pushed up and pressed his mouth to mine. Soft, perfect lips, tongue hot as it stole into my mouth.
Like breathing.
Kissing him was as natural as breathing and it still scared the shit out of me to think about not having that anymore.
“I was gone from the moment Nesto introduced us,” Easton continued, making me flush with all the praise. “Gone. But you know what it is that will keep me here forever? The man that you are. Your love for your community, wherever you are. Your courage. You, just you.”
Fuck, this man was going to wreck me before I got to talk. “Okay, my turn.” I had shit to say, too, dammit. “I love that you’re my soft landing. I can say things to you I’m scared to even tell myself.”
He groaned. “Patrice.”