10. BORROWED TIME
BORROWED TIME
The smell of coffee is what pulls me out of my deep slumber, and I hear the clattering sound of pots and pans striking together in the background.
Kenneth is up and making a mess of my kitchen.
It makes me smile, the thought of him making himself at home.
There’s something so soothing about it, a feeling that maybe this could be real for him, too.
That we could have a future together—if he let us.
I’m relieved he didn’t leave this morning.
I can’t lie, I definitely thought I’d wake up to a cold bed and an empty penthouse.
He got what he wanted after all—sex—so I thought he’d fuck off out of my life.
It’s more than surprising that he’s still here.
That I didn’t spook him with all my promises of showing him what love really is like.
My confession of wanting marriage and building a life with someone.
For a person who fears commitment, he sure is handling it fairly well. I think.
I get up and take a piss, brush my teeth, and pull on a pair of gray sweats sans underwear.
Taking a deep breath, I open the bedroom door and walk toward the kitchen on light feet.
Ken is at the stove, his back to me. He sips his coffee and puts the mug back on the counter, then grabs the spatula from beside it.
There are two plates on the counter near him with toast, bacon, and fruit on them.
I lean against the kitchen island and watch him silently, feeling too much for the man in my kitchen.
Though I definitely know this man quite intimately.
One-night stands don’t usually involve breakfast in the morning, so a stupid part of me is hopeful that he’s finally coming around to the idea of giving me more.
He knows how I feel, that I don’t want something casual with him.
This doesn’t feel like a rejection, though I’m hoping he’s not leading me on…
right into a dead end. That would be fatal for my poor fucking heart.
I don’t even want to imagine the heartbreak—because he was right last night when he said love usually ends in pain.
I was just hoping we’d be different. I’m still hoping for that.
Maybe I am a romantic after all. Or maybe I’m just delusional.
Kenneth is humming a song under his breath, and I hold mine as I try to listen.
He begins to sing then, louder, and I grin.
Until I hear the lyrics. It’s a love song.
One that talks about a love that only comes once in a lifetime.
How he sees forever with that person, and he’s wishing on dandelions for it to come true.
I gulp at the tight feeling in my chest, and it makes me wonder if he’s casually singing it because it popped into his head, or if this means more.
I’m afraid to hope. Afraid that if I do, everything will come crumbling down.
I’m not scared of loving him; I’m scared of him crushing me.
Shattering my heart and turning my dreams into dust.
He scrapes the scrambled eggs onto the plates, then grabs them and turns around, just to gasp. I give him a warm smile, and he returns it. I can tell it’s genuine because all his dimples are on display, small lines crinkling the sides of his eyes. Then it falls, and he narrows his eyes.
“You were supposed to stay in bed so I could bring breakfast to you,” Kenneth scolds, and I grin, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you making me breakfast in bed, Ken?”
“Well, I was trying to,” he huffs, but when I chuckle, he grins. “Let’s go back to your room and pretend you never got up.”
“I can do that,” I tell him, walking back towards the room and climbing onto the bed. I prop the pillows against the headboard, settling against one and looking at him expectantly. “Is this better?”
“Yeah, Connie.” He smiles, handing me my food. “You’re being such a good boy.”
I smirk, “Is that so?”
“Yes,” he replies, setting his plate on the nightstand.
“Does that mean I get a reward?” I ask him in a sultry tone.
“You’re already horny again?” Kenneth laughs.
“You’re not?” I raise an eyebrow again.
He narrows his eyes playfully. “I’m eating breakfast, Conrad. I worked hard on it. So eat your damn food and stop thinking with your dick.”
I throw my head back and laugh, and he disappears out of the room, returning with two steaming mugs of coffee.
He sets them on the nightstand next to his food, then grabs his plate and settles next to me on the bed.
He’s close enough that I can feel the heat of his body, but not quite close enough to touch him.
I take a bite of the food, just to moan.
It’s damn good, and I look at him with wide eyes.
“Oh, don’t be so surprised,” he tells me, rolling his eyes. “I can cook.”
“I see that,” I reply. “It’s amazing.”
“Thanks.” He takes a bite of his food, chews, and once he swallows, he continues, “My mom taught me to cook when I was in elementary school.”
“That’s young,” I point out.
“Yeah, well, she’s a single mom.” He looks away from me. “I had to take care of myself.”
“Looks like you did a damn good job at that.”
Kenneth’s eyes come back to mine with those words, gratitude shining in them. I can tell he was nervous to tell me that, though I’m not sure why.
“I wasn’t raised with money,” Kenneth says quietly. “My mom had to work two jobs to support us.”
“She clearly did the best she could,” I reply in a soothing tone.
“Your parents were probably loaded, huh?” he asks me, looking away again.
“No.” I shake my head. “My dad was a cop and my mom a first-grade teacher. That’s why I worked so hard at getting good grades. I needed the scholarships.”
“Really?” Kenneth’s eyes shine with something—curiosity, I realize. Like maybe it surprises him that I’m not a stuck-up brat. “So the success and the money came later?”
“Much, much later.” I sigh. “I worked my ass off for it.”
“Tell me about college,” he says, then looks at me expectantly as he eats.
I chuckle, setting my plate on my lap and turning toward him slightly. “Not much to tell. It was the usual college experience. Lots of parties and lots of late nights studying.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Oh, I had the best time of my life,” I admit. “Finally being on my own was liberating. I could finally be myself, and I came out when I left my parents’ house.”
“Did they not accept you?” Kenneth frowns at this, and I shake my head.
“It wasn’t like that,” I reply, looking away. “But my small town wasn’t exactly welcoming when it came to gay men.”
“Makes sense,” he says thoughtfully. “Is that why you moved to the city?”
“Partly…” I look at him just to find him already watching me. “I like the city, though. I enjoy the fast-paced life. Living close to the water. Being able to walk to the places I enjoy going to.”
Kenneth smiles with what seems to be understanding. “It was always my dream to live here. I wanted to get away from the studio apartment where my mom and I lived. We had twin beds and shared a tiny closet. I bet she’s glad I’m gone.”
“Is she still living there?” I ask him.
“No, she’s living in a nice apartment now,” he replies. “She won’t let me pay for something more expensive, though.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
“My mom worked hard to give me the best life she could.” Kenneth smiles, though he looks away. “Now it’s my turn to return the favor.”
A comfortable silence falls over us, and we finish eating. I stack our plates, and he puts them on the nightstand, then passes me my coffee. I sip it slowly, wondering how he figured out that I like my coffee exactly like this.
“How did you know how to make my coffee?” I ask him curiously.
“Hmm?” He frowns, confused. “Oh, I just made it how I like mine.”
“So we have matching coffee orders?” I smirk. “Cute.”
Kenneth chuckles, his eyes settling on my face.
I get nervous as he searches my eyes, wondering what he sees when he looks.
Can he tell how badly I want him? How hard I’m trying to hide it?
My hands tremble slightly as he stares at me quietly, and I wonder if I ruined it all.
If I fucked it all up. Goddamn it, what did he see?
“Tell me about your dad,” he says softly, and I flinch. “Or…don’t. But I’d like to know more about him.”
“Why?” I ask him softly, though I’m not sure why. It just feels too raw, too intimate to share with just anyone. But he’s not just anyone, is he?
“I want to get to know you better,” Kenneth replies.
I breathe in deeply, letting it out slowly. “He was the best. Always there for me—never missed any important events. Even when he was supposed to work, he found someone else to cover his shift. He taught me how to fish, how to ride my dirt bike, and how to play hockey.”
“Are you sure you’re not straight?” Kenneth smirks, and I roll my eyes, though I’m grateful for the lighter mood.
“Positive.” I chuckle. “He went to all my games. Every single one. I miss him a lot.” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat. Kenneth grabs my hand and squeezes once, then laces our fingers together. “What about you? Play any sports?”
“God, no. No way.” Kenneth looks slightly embarrassed for the first time since I met him. “I was an artsy kid. The one who would sketch in the middle of class and smoke pot in his spare time.”
“You were a pothead?” I laugh. “I don’t believe that for one second.”
“Oh, yes. I was.” He chuckles. “I went through a whole phase. Even had a septum piercing for a while. I drew the line at tattoos, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“I’m not sure.” Kenneth shrugs. “I didn’t really feel comfortable committing to anything permanent. Except for the one on my hand.”
My stomach drops at the admission. Is he still like that? I clear my throat. “And now? Are you still afraid of commitment?”
“Absolutely,” he replies without hesitation.
“Oh.” I nod slowly, and he frowns.
He seems to realize my change in demeanor because his eyes widen. “Conrad—”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, looking away. “I’m okay.”
“Look at me,” Kenneth says softly, and when I don’t, he takes hold of my chin and turns my face toward him. I look down, refusing to make eye contact. “Please, let me see those pretty eyes.”
My breath catches in my throat at his words, but I raise my gaze to his.
“I want to try… with you,” he tells me. “I-I’m scared, I won’t lie to you. And I’ll probably fuck this all the way up before I get it right. I can’t promise to be perfect, Conrad. But I can promise you I’ll try for you. I want this with you. I do.”
“Do you mean that?” I ask him in a whisper. I feel oddly vulnerable. Exposed. Raw. “Or are you just telling me what I want to hear?”
“I like you,” he says, voice resolute. “Fuck, I actually really like you. Do you think I’d be here if I didn’t?”
“I don’t really know,” I admit. “I’m afraid to hope.”
“Afraid to hope for what?” he asks, his gaze intense.
“For more.” My voice is small, and he swallows hard. “For everything.”
“Why?”
“Because hope is where dreams go to die,” I reply. He’s even beautiful when he frowns. Fuck me. I’m in so deep. “I’m afraid that if I go there, I won’t recover from the heartbreak.”
“What if we both go there?” Kenneth replies. “What if we both hope?”
“Then I guess I won’t feel so lonely,” I tell him, exhaling roughly.
Kenneth lets go of my chin, then cups my face and leans in to kiss me. His lips are soft and pliant as I suck on them, and when he pushes his tongue into my mouth, I feel myself come back to life. It doesn’t last very long, though, and when he pulls away, I’m lost at sea once more.
“Can I stay for a while?” he asks, climbing onto my lap and burying his face in the crook of my neck. I breathe him in, his tropical scent, and feel my body relax.
“You never have to ask.”