Chapter 21 #3
“Aight, Sonny. I hear you. Okay—I know.”
He steps in slow, one hand rising to my hip.
My body jolts back as soon as his touch lands.
He goes still.
I bite my lip,
closing my eyes,
cursing myself for flinching.
He doesn’t call it out or pull back.
He waits for me to find my way back to him,
and I do.
He exhales, palm dragging up my side,
then down again, settling on my hip.
“You think I don’t know what’s happenin’ right now?”
He’s guiding me into the shadows,
my back hitting the wall,
his voice barely above the hum of the city—
“You don’t gotta run, Sonny.
“You need to come? Then come.”
He steps closer, lowering his head.
“I’ll stay right here.
“Be your cover, your fuckin’ wall,
“your anchor—whatever you need.
“Just don’t run.”
“No, no—you’re not gettin’ it.”
My eyes snap up, voice breaking.
“I’m not usin’ you. I can’t.
“Not physically. Or sexually. Or emotionally. That’s the whole reason I’m pushin’ you away.
“I’m not doin’ that to you.
“I’m not. Not to you.”
His arm drops to the wall as he leans in, the tips of his fingers dragging across the crown of my head. “Nah, hey—listen to me. I know, aight? I fuckin’ get it. I know you’re tryin’ to protect me, and the fact you give a shit like that? I don’t think you got any clue how deep it hits.”
He breathes,
trying not to say more than he should.
“But listen to me—
“this isn’t you usin’ me if I’m choosin’ this.
“I ain’t scared of your shit.
“This is me bein’ in it.
“So don’t push me away while you tear yourself apart, pretendin’ I ain’t right here with you.”
He shakes his head,
pushing his warm hand up my side again.
“Don’t make me let you do this alone.”
He’s looking down at me
like he’d never drop me.
Navy eyes like open arms. Steady. Stupid-safe.
“Sonny. I’m right fuckin’ here.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere.
“Never was.”
Summa cum stupid.
Always am when it comes to him.
I exhale. Then nod. “Okay.”
Andrew nods next.
“Okay,” he breathes.
We lock eyes for a beat.
Then he moves in slow,
his knee sliding between mine.
His forearm hits the wall over my shoulder,
caging me in soft.
His next breath pours out of him,
trembling right against my temple.
I reach behind me, yank my zipper down.
And I pull him closer with the other—
chest to chest.
Then I’m lowering my hand, sliding in,
dragging my panties aside again,
my finger catching my clit.
Shaking. Wanting. Gone.
My forehead crashes against his chest,
air spilling out of me.
Andrew breathes deep,
heart pounding through his shirt,
wanting to hold me, too.
My fingers move slower.
Because he’s here.
And God, he’s here.
His hand’s warm when it finds the base of my spine,
holding me close,
rubbing slow circles with his thumb.
“You wanna know my biggest fear?”
His voice sinks lower.
“If a year from now, after all of it—
“After the late nights we’ll stay up arguin’ about dumbass album rankings and sharin’ trivia no one else will give a shit about, like we’re in some two-person private club.
“After all the songs you’ll never finish writin’ ‘cause we’ll always end up on the damn floor instead. And all the weird little Andrew-and-Allison moments we’ll disappear into—‘cause that’s what happens when we’re together.
“After the mornin’s I’ll wake up to you and your smart mouth, and the nights you’ll blow up my phone while I’m at work ‘cause you’ll miss me… All the texts sayin’ you’re still up, waitin’, ‘cause you’ll sleep like shit without me…
“After all of it—
“The tacos. The laughin’ ‘til we’re cryin’.
“All the times your hand will end up in mine,
“‘cause that’s what’ll feel right.
“After the kissin’. The fuckin’. The fightin’.
“The beggin’. The crawlin’.
“‘Cause you move,
“I follow. Every goddamn time.”
“If after all that—
“I’m standin’ in front of you,
“and you look at me like I was nothin’.
“Like none of it meant a thing.
“Like I was just the guy you used to figure your shit out.
“Somethin’ you had to get outta your system.
“Somethin’ to toss once you got what you needed.”
His jaw tightens against my temple.
“That’s my knife, Allison.
“The one that ends me.”
He goes quiet for a beat,
voice caught on emotion.
“Now you got it in your hands.”
My fingers curl into his shirt, grabbing hold,
falling from the edge of him.
His palm slides up my spine. “I think about it. You. All the time. Where we’d be. What it’d look like years from now. I fuckin’ see it.” Andrew swallows. “I know what I’m walkin’ into. I’m not here to compete with your addiction or your contract.
“Not askin’ you to throw it all away for me.
“Not here to fix you or save you or tear your whole life apart either. I know you don’t need me. You been takin’ care of yourself this whole time.”
He shrugs.
“All I’m askin’ right now is for the option.
“At least give me a choice.
“Send me the contract. Let me go over it.
“Let me decide if it’s somethin’ I can handle.”
My breaths fall deeper, more ragged.
I bite my lip hard, bury the sound in his shirt.
His hand slides up,
wraps around the back of my neck.
His exhale spills out right next to my ear.
And when it breaks—
when my body lets go—
my head falls back in his hand,
and he holds me close,
dragging his knuckles across my cheek,
watching my face as I come.
My body sighs into him,
the climax stuttering through his chest,
his hips.
Normally, I disappear. Numb out. Drift off.
The high leaving me to float above it.
Be out of reach.
But I’m still here.
Still fucking here.
Trapped in his gaze.
Feeling all of it—
his hands, his chest, his breath hitting my lips.
His heartbeat holding hands with my heartbeat.
I’m not supposed to feel held.
I’m supposed to feel hollow.
I didn’t want the closeness or comfort,
only the fuckin’ high.
I pull my hand from between my thighs,
pull back, pull away, to vanish, to run—
“I need to go. I—fuck—I gotta clean up.”
My fingers are wet.
My head’s a fucking hurricane.
My breaths grow shallow as panic rises inside me.
I can’t stand here this exposed.
But he catches me, drags me back to him.
“Hey, you’re good. Don’t go, don’t go.”
He steps in,
steadies me with a hand on my hip.
“Just… be here with me. Just for a second.”
Head bowed,
he brings my two slick fingers to his mouth—
warm, wet, trembling—
and he closes his lips around them.
His eyes fall shut as he sucks them slow.
And I stop breathing.
Raymond used to wipe me off like a smudge.
White cloth. Weekly maintenance work.
But Andrew takes me in,
keeping my fingers,
my taste in his mouth
like they belong to him.
When they slide out unhurried—
“Fuck..." he laughs under his breath, voice breaking on it as he keeps them pressed against his lips. Then his eyes open, gaze crawling up and up until it hits mine. "I fuckin' missed you."
My armor doesn’t even rattle. It gives.
My head falls back to his chest.
I breathe him in, and his scent floods—
cologne and the Clover soaked into his hot skin.
“Sonny, you break? Go through hell?
“Let me be there. And next time?”
He kisses the inside of my palm.
“I wanna feel it in my hand.”
I drop back against the wall,
my eyes sliding up to his.
And he hits me with the full Jersey—
a lazy grin with eyes that say,
yeah, I fuckin’ said it. Now what?
His brows lift. “That gonna be a problem?”
My pulse hasn’t evened out.
My thighs are still trembling.
“Yeah,” I say. “You keep this up, I’m not gonna be the only addict in the room.”
His lips part, about to speak,
then shut as his smile takes over instead.
A blush follows after.
He dips in close—“Too late, angel.
“You gonna give me the damn contract? Or keep pretendin’ I’m not already in this with you? ‘Cause we can drag this out for another ten chapters, your call.”
A laugh stumbles out of me.
“Feels like we already skipped a few.”
He tilts his chin, eyes hooked on mine.
Then he licks his bottom lip—
“What chapter you think we’re on now of me chasin’ your stubborn ass?”
I answer without thinking—“Five.”
“Twenty-One,” he says at the same time.
Our eyes lock.
Then mine slit through the moment—
“Overachiever.”
“Slow reader.” He grins.
And I hate how it settles into me.
I shake my head—
“Sappy, sexy, still fuckin’ here…
“Jesus—is that who fuckin’ raised you?
“Jane Austen?”
He smirks. “Close. A pair of sapphic saints.”
I roll my eyes, the laugh slipping out.
But it fades because his eyes aren’t smiling anymore.
"Drew, what you're askin' for is a relationship..." I finally say, a little shaken.
“What I'm askin' for is a chance at us," he replies. “Be real, Sonny. You say no, we’re gonna be right back here next week.”
His thumb draws lazy circles against my ribcage,
hips locked to mine.
His other palm’s flat against the wall by my head,
and he leans in,
mouth nudging my ear.
“I’m telling you right now… You and me?
“We don’t end.
“We burn. We walk. We get lost.
“But we don’t fuckin’ end, Sonny.”
He pauses, mouth pressing against my temple.
“We circle until we crash right back into each other, over—”
He kisses my cheekbone—
“and over—”
The corner of my mouth—
“and over—”
I smile.