Chapter 34 Colorblind
COUNTING CROWS
“Andrew. On your knees and lick my clit, boy.”
I stop mid-pace in the bathroom.
“Too much?” I ask my reflection.
How the fuck do people ask for oral without a contract?
I exhale, clear my throat,
and gesture to the toilet, all casual.
“Gotta offer for ya, pal.
“One-time-only kinda deal.
“I’ll spread ‘em, you go down,
“and nobody gets hurt.”
Real stable. Real romantic.
No the fuck not.
“You hungry?”
I shimmy my brows, flipping the water on.
“‘Cause I got somethin’ for your mouth.”
A laugh breaks out of me,
and I drag my palm down my face.
Then I curtsy. “If it pleases you, kind sir,
“do attend to me... thoroughly.”
I turn back fast toward the running sink—
“Yo. Wanna play a game?
“It’s called get on your knees
“and shut the fuck up.”
Why am I holding up gun fingers?
I drop my hands to the porcelain,
then whisper to the mirror,
“Please eat me out?”
That’s it.
That’s all I got.
Don’t be a fuckin’ coward.
I kill the water.
Be cool,
be cool,
be cool the whole five-foot walk to his room—
“Before I get in your bed,” I start as I turn the corner, “I need answers as to why the fuck you got a hundred toothbrushes in your drawer—”
Then slam to a stop.
Andrew’s sitting on the edge of the bed,
head in his hands,
real light bedtime vibe.
I narrow my eyes.
“Hey… you good?”
He shakes his head, snapping out of it.
When he finally lifts his head,
it’s not the same mouth I left in the kitchen.
No swollen lips or fuck-me eyes anymore.
“Yeah, nah—sorry.
“Got caught in my fuckin’ head.”
He laughs, but it dies halfway up his throat.
He grips the back of his neck,
eyes slamming into mine.
Then he inhales deep—
“Can I—can I say somethin’?
“Just gimme a sec.”
It comes out on exhale,
his thumb brushing his brow.
This is it.
I let my guard down,
and now he’s gonna skin me
and wear my face to breakfast with his moms.
He claps once, trying to scare himself into it.
“Yeah. Fuck it—I’m sayin’ it.”
But his grin says
he knows he should shut the fuck up.
His grin also has
future and confessions written all over it.
I’m not built for that shit.
He stands, tugs at his waistband, rubs his hands together, then opens them like he’s got nothing left to hide.
“I keep askin’ myself every day—what it is about you that got me this bad?" He shrugs. “I keep thinkin’ if I figure out what it is, I’ll stop feelin’ like this. But the list just… keeps gettin’ fuckin’ longer.”
Oh fuck.
He’s gonna tell me he loves me.
I should stop him.
But my heart’s got her hand over my brain’s mouth—Don’t ruin it. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Let him talk.
And he’s staring at me, hand to his chest,
feeling the words he’s about to say.
As if it hurts to keep them all in.
“I keep goin’ back to that night at Type.
“Was there with that girl, and then…”
He gestures to me.
“Then I saw you.
“And she was gone, Sonny.
“Nothin' else existed. Nothin' but you.
“Not a slow fade. Not some poetic bullshit.
“I mean—fuckin’ gone.”
He shrugs. “You were gravity, and everything else just fell away.” His eyes burn into me. “And I know how it sounds,” he says, voice worn and torn. “Like some line a guy would use to try to fuck you. But it wasn’t that. Swear to God, Sonny—it wasn’t.
“I just wanted to be next to you.
“Just wanted to keep talking to you.”
He laughs, shy—
“That would’ve been enough.”
He goes quiet.
My pulse is throwing punches. I can hear the blood brawling through my ears.
“Then… you defended me—”
His voice stutters him to a halt,
and he looks at me in awe.
“She was throwin’ fuckin’ knives at me, and you—boom—stood right in front of me. Didn’t flinch. Didn't insult her, didn’t make a show of it. You had me. Just like that. Didn't even know me, but stood there. For me.”
He says it, the moment hitting him in the chest all over again.
“After that, hell—you could’ve had anything you wanted from me that night… I’d've given it to you.” He swallows. “But then the way you kissed me… the way you touched me… You made it about us. You wanted me in it. With you. All the way.”
He shakes his head, it still getting to him.
“No one’s ever cared about me like that.
“No one's ever looked out for me—
“Not fuckin’ anyone.
“Not even my moms.”
He squints. “And I wish it wasn’t true.
“But it is.
“And that’s really fuckin’ sad.”
And this truth hurts,
fucking me up in the chest.
“That night…
“I don’t think you meant to, but you made me feel like I was it.” He raises his palms. “Like I was your whole fuckin’ world for a second.”
The silence sits, then he shakes his head,
smiling stunned.
“Sonny, you made me feel like I was your goddamn everything.”
His throat bobs. “That night—it was like one second I'm standin' there with you, and the next, I'm rushin' into you—”
A laugh rushes out of him,
like nothing he says will make sense,
so may as well just keep going—
“Then you weren't just in my arms, you were in me.
Like we just crumbled into a million pieces.
And we didn't know whose pieces were whose anymore, so we were just... there, a fuckin' mess. You and me. And I been tryin’ to forget what that night felt like ever since—I can’t.
And every time I convince myself it was just a moment, just one night.
.. Not a fuckin' second goes by, and—fuck.
You're still rippin’ through me. I'm still in pieces with you.
I'm still standin', in fuckin' pieces—not put back together.” He shrugs.
"Maybe because I can't be put back together the same as before. We're too mixed up now."
I haven’t taken a breath.
Not since he started talking.
I should’ve passed out by now.
But he keeps going,
and my lungs keep forgetting—
“With you, I’m not some hookup or object or a fuckin’ mouth. You don’t want anything from me, don’t expect anything from me, don’t need me to be anything or do anything.
“You just want me.”
“And that’s why, with you,
“I can fuckin’ breathe.”
Then he’s looking at me, squinting
like I don’t get it.
“You didn’t just make me want somethin’.
“You made me believe I’m allowed to want somethin’.
“That I could fight for it.
“That I fuckin’ deserve it. And it matters—”
“Jesus, fuck—" He laughs, wipes a hand down his face, shrugs, not sure if the words coming out of his mouth are allowed to exist. “And now I think wanting you might be the first time I ever really chose myself.”
He stops, the truth sitting raw on his lips.
“And this isn't Type anymore. We both know that. We ain’t stretchin’ out a moment that’s dead.
‘Cause it’s not. This ain’t some memory I’m chasin’.
This is right now. Still real. Still alive.
Still hits—hard as fuck. Every time we’re together, it’s like.
.. fuck, it feels good. We feel so fuckin' good. Like it’s always been supposed to be us.
“… So, yeah. T-bone after T-bone to the chest.
“I’m totaled.
“Wrecked.
“Undone.
“For you.
“You got me, alright?”
He expels another breath—
half laugh, half surrender.
Then he drops whatever he was carrying.
“I’m standin’ here tongue-tied, fucked, and wantin’ you.”
He swallows, nods,
refusing to take any of it back.
“I want you.
“Right fuckin’ now, Sonny. Real bad.
“I’m standin’ here, fuckin’ aching for you.”
“Andrew—” I cut him off,
and his mouth slams shut.
I’m leaned forward, eyes wide,
confused as fuck.
I shake my head, smiling, stupid and shaky.
“You tryna seduce me or scam me with sweet talk, huh? You tellin’ me you been ‘not wantin’ anyone’ with your mouth or dick for three hundred fuckin’ miles?”
I stare, trying to count every lie on his face.
Internally? Losing my shit.
Externally? Please. I’m a statue.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s what I’m sayin’.
“I never wanted any of ‘em.
“Three hundred miles, never asked for it,
“none of it meant shit.”
He points at me—“You do.
“Didn’t feel a goddamn thing ‘til you opened that smart mouth.”
I cock a brow.
My arms are still raised.
“Jesus, Drew. I’m still tryin’ to breathe through the first things you said. And now you just want me. Right now? That’s your plan? Rip open your chest, then crawl between my legs before I can bolt?”
He grins a dumb, shit-eating grin.
“Is it working?”
“Yes,” I snap.
Whatever. Fuck it.
He’s nodding slow, stepping closer.
“Good. ‘Cause I’m ready.
“I wanna be close to you.
“I want your taste in my mouth, Sonny.
“Don’t wanna just go down on you.
“I wanna go down with you.
“Fall apart together.
“You and me—right there, right fuckin’ now.
“Just for us. No contract. Real as it gets.
“I want you.”
He takes another step.
“In my mouth.”
Smirk half-cocked.
“Right now.”
Damn, I’m fucking good.
Didn’t even have to ask.
Manifested that shit.
I shrug—
casually,
nonchalantly,
so not desperate.
“Drew. We said sleep only.”
He takes another step closer
and shrugs. “Yeah—fuck. I lied, alright?”
He wets his bottom lip.
“Now I’m sayin’ I wanna eat your pussy.”
His eyes haven’t left mine—
intense, fierce, cracked open.
A slow-burn stare
that’s already stripped me bare in his head,
touched me a thousand different ways,
imagined every taste.
He’s not hiding the desperation,
can’t control it any longer.
His jaw’s clenching,
already tasting how I’ll come for him.
My nerves rise up under his gaze,
and I scramble to take back control;
steel my spine, lift my chin,
pretend I’m not two seconds from melting.
I stand as if I own this moment,
even if it owns me.
The air’s a live grenade,
pin pulled and bracing.
He’s five feet away now.
Then four feet.
Three.
Heat pours off his stare,
liquifies my lungs.
The room’s spinning.
Two feet—
and he’s on the edge of ruining me,
coming closer,
and closer.
“Drew, stop.”
It slips out with my hand,
my palm laying flat on his chest—warm, alive.
He freezes, breath heavy,
chest heaving against my fingers,
where I can feel his heart losing it.
So is mine.
We’re both shaking. For different reasons.