16. Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Lance
“Do I look like I give a shit?” A voice I would recognize anywhere echoes from across the coffee shop.
I turn in my seat, spotting Roman at the counter immediately.
My body itches to go to him. I feel like a planet, always orbiting around this beautiful sun while it pays no mind to me.
I just exist here, completely dependent on his gravitational pull, and when he collapses…
so will I. Everything good in my life exploding into a cloud of dust.
His arm flexes deliciously as he shoves his badge into his back pocket.
I slide out of my seat, swapping to the chair on the other side of the table so that I can watch him.
His shirt bunches up, getting stuck on his belt, causing a sliver of his skin to peek out.
I seriously cannot wait to see what’s underneath all those damn clothes he’s wearing.
The last few weeks I’ve spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to get Roman to fuck me, like really fuck me, and I’ve failed miserably.
Every. Single. Time.
It’s getting to the point that even hinting at wanting sex is getting mortifying. Does he not want to sleep with me? Why did he ask to be friends with benefits if he wasn’t planning to do anything other than use his hands and mouth? Am I totally missing something here?
The cashier glances over at me, causing Roman to turn his attention toward me. He reaches a hand out in my direction as he practically yells across the room. “Do you want another fucking coffee?”
I pretend to think about it for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. “Sure.”
There’s no such thing as too much coffee, amiiright?
“I fucking told you,” Roman mutters before he weaves his way through the chairs and tables scattered around the shop.
“I swear, the guy is a fucking idiot.” He curses under his breath as he yanks out one of the chairs at the table and plops down across from me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask with a chuckle.
After seeing the other Roman, the one he hides away just for me, this side seems kind of humorous.
I used to think that he hated me because he treated me exactly the same way he’s treating the barista behind the counter, but after getting to know him, it’s clear that he doesn’t actually mean anything he says.
Why he acts this way is mostly a mystery, but I think I’m starting to get glimpses of the ‘why’ behind his behavior.
As far as I can tell, it seems to be a way for him to control everything around him.
He cares deeply about everything, but he doesn’t want to.
So, he pushes people away to avoid them seeing how much power they actually have over him.
It’s hard to see if you aren’t watching him closely.
It’s in the little touches when we’re watching television, the sweet words he whispers when we’re fooling around, him making sure that I’ve eaten or that I don’t need anything from the shop when he goes.
It’s there, underneath the snarky retorts and annoyed scowls.
He’s hiding it from the world, and as much as I want to know why, all I seem to actually care about is that I’m the one who gets to see the other side of him. Me.
“I needed a fucking coffee. If that wasn’t obvious enough.
” He replies as he readjusts himself in his seat uncomfortably.
It’s early, hours before my shift starts, so there’s no one else in the shop except for the barista, but Roman still keeps his act up for me.
I’m grateful, because it won’t be long before other people start to filter in before their own shifts start.
The guy behind the counter walks over with the two cups of coffee, dutifully handing my coffee to me.
He’s taken my order so many times since I got here that he knows it by heart.
He has my order typed in the machine and is ready for me to swipe my badge before I can even get to the register most mornings.
He most likely knew exactly who Roman was trying to order for when he told him what drink it was, which is probably where their little argument came from since the barista knew I was already here.
I give the guy a weak smile as Roman mutters under his breath.
“Fucking finally,” he sighs before taking a big gulp.
“Rough night?” I ask with a smirk before taking a drink from my own cup, knowing damn well that he was up all night worshipping my body. “I feel fucking fantastic.”
He glares at me, completely tongue-tied. I know I’m pressing his buttons, toeing the line in the sand that I drew, but he left it wide open, for Christ’s sake. It was too tempting.
“Mmm,” he hums thoughtfully. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with.
If I can survive spending time in your presence, then I imagine that I can handle pretty much anything.
“ He replies with a little less bite than normal. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that Roman was having a hard time finding ways to be rude to me now, and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
It’s probably just hopeful thinking on my part.
Despite me wanting our life in the public to remain the way it was prior to our arrangement, I’d still be lying if I said that his words didn’t leave behind a little sting when they hit.
I choke them down with another sip of coffee before silently staring up at the window on the front of the bakery.
There are a few people starting to come down the hall, and since no one bothers going to the shop this early in the morning, they’re obviously headed here.
Roman turns in his seat, being his usual nosey self, before turning back to me.
“After work today?” He whispers before he glances through his lashes at me over his cup of coffee.
“I’ll be there,” I reply with a nod as the bell over the entrance chimes.
Roman forces his chair back before getting to his feet and leaning over to toss his empty cup in the trash.
He shoves his chair underneath the table and walks off without another word.
I watch him as he moves past the people that just entered and heads out the door.
Then I watch as he tucks his hands into his pocket and starts down the hallway.
I watch until he’s all the way at the end of the hall, veering left to head toward his apartment.
Then I realize that I wasn’t particularly done watching and it hits me that I might finally understand why Roman used to spend so much time watching me.
Another frantic knock echoes through the hall, and I get the sense that no one else is going to answer the door.
I groggily crawl out of bed, sneaking my way around the corner, grateful that I’m not tall enough for anyone to be able to see through the window.
I stretch up on my tiptoes to peer through the peephole, confusion washing over me.
My hands start to tremble, causing me to fumble with the lock as I desperately try to open the door. Why do they need so many damn locks?
“Lance? Hurry. Please.“ Blaine begs of me.
“I’m trying! I can’t— the lock is stuck.” I explain before my movements pause. I lift back up on my toes, glancing through the peephole again. How did he know it was me? It could’ve been Gatlin. Or dad, or Mathis, or their mom. Anyone.
Is this some kind of trap?
I try to see as much as I can around him, but it looks like he’s alone. I just got out of the basement though, and I’m not ready to go back down there yet. I need to eat a little more and get some more fluids in me before I can survive a few days without.
“The lock, Blaine. Try the back door.” I urge. It’s never locked, so they can’t blame me if he gets in that way. He leans closer the door, resting his head against it as he talks to me.
“Mom and dad are at the country club, Lance. You need to get Gatlin to the basement. Now.“ He says as he glances back over his shoulder nervously.
“What? No.“ I object as I recoil back from the door. Blaine knows that I do everything I can to avoid Gatlin being stuck down in that disgusting cesspool. There’s no way that I would be the one to lock him down there. How could he even suggest that?
“Lance!” He barks out as he bangs on the door angrily. “Please trust me. Mathis is on his way here. Right now. He said that he was going to take him to the club with him to— to…“ he pauses, nearly gagging.
“To what?” I beg desperately.
“He can’t go there, Lance. Promise me. Just…
just until Mathis leaves. Tell Mathis that mom put him down there before she left and as soon as he leaves you can let Gatlin back out.
Make up something. Anything. I swear to you that being in the basement a few hours is better than going there with Mathis. ”
I shake my head in confusion as I slowly take a few steps back from the door.
I glance back and forth between the door and the hallway, weighing my options.
What if he’s lying to me? What if they’re going to put another lock on the door when Mathis gets here and then Gatlin will be locked down there for who knows how long?
I don’t know if I can handle being the one to do that to him, even if I’m tricked into it.
I hear the automatic gates opening, and rush to look out the door again. Mathis’ car is patiently waiting on it to open from the other side. Blaine turns to see who it is before turning back toward the door.
“Hurry, Lance.” He whispers, defeat lacing his words. “You can’t let him go there. He won’t come back the same.”
His words give me chills, causing me to shove away from the door instantly.
I don’t know what they do at the club, and I don’t know if I want that kind of knowledge either.
All I know is that chancing Gatlin being alone with Mathis…
it’s not worth it. Gatlin is better off in the basement than being alone with him for even an hour.
I bolt toward the hallway, my socked feet sliding out from under me as I try to turn the corner.