6. Chapter Six
Micah
Troy was just posturing, right? I’ve been thinking about how he called me his all week long.
It scared the crap out of me, but it also felt pretty great.
I wish I could believe he meant it. Then again, it’s always nice when someone cares.
The thing is, someone like him would never claim a messed-up foster kid like me.
He’s going to be a famous professional fighter someday, and having me around would hardly be a good career choice. Yeah. Had to be for show.
This entire week has been weirdly domestic, and I don’t know what to think.
We’ve been carpooling to the gym every day.
We have breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, and we spend most evenings together or with his parents.
They wave to us when we leave in the morning and ask us about our day when we get home.
It doesn’t escape my sense of the ironic that the safest place I’ve ever lived was with a terrifyingly large MMA fighter whose mom invites me to Sunday dinner.
The problem is, I don’t hate it. It’s been surprisingly low-key, which I enjoy, but I also know better. Good things never last. At least not for me.
This is a temporary living situation until I’ve got some money saved for a place of my own, and I need to remember that. Which means at some point I’ll be leaving. I’ve left enough places to know exactly how much that costs, and I don’t think I can afford the payment this time around.
I’ve dedicated this afternoon strictly for drawing, since it’s a Sunday.
With the move and settling in, I haven’t been able to put any time into my personal projects.
The room I’m staying in has phenomenal light.
It has an enormous bay window that gets the perfect late-day sun. I’ve camped out here since lunchtime.
With soft blankets and matching moss-colored pillows, the window seat is a cozy little nest. The entire bedroom is done in different shades of green, and I have no doubt that this is Gloria’s work.
The deep forest-green bedding on the king bed, offset by the cream-colored throws, catches your eye immediately.
As someone who works with color palettes frequently, it’s really well done while still retaining a masculine feel.
I’ve never lived anywhere that looked like this.
As if they cared about the comfort of the person staying here.
Manga graphic novels are my guilty pleasure. I love an angsty, morally gray hero. I know that reality is never black and white. After years of working hard simply to get by, I’ve finally reached the point where I’m able to carve out some time to work on my own graphic novel, Revenant Bones.
The sketch I’m working on today is one that’s been rolling around in my head for weeks.
My main character, Nox, a demon warrior turned vigilante, and his nemesis, who remains unnamed at this point, are preparing for the final battle.
The black and white medium in manga art lets the artist create subtle nuances with shading.
The knock on my door startles me, but I appreciate the respect for my privacy. It’s probably Troy, so I tell him to come in. I’m too warm and comfortable to get up.
Troy enters with a smile, wandering over to check out my sketch. I don’t show my drawings to others, but he always seems eager to see them. My chest fills with warmth as he makes his way over, his spicy cedar scent reaching me before he does.
“Are you drawing? Can I see?” he asks, already leaning in to take a look.
“Okay.”
I hold out my sketchbook, and he takes it with a delighted grin. Our fingers graze, and the heat from his skin draws me, so I hold on longer than I should before I move away.
“This is amazing. You’re so talented!”
I duck my head, the tips of my ears burning. I’m not used to praise. Not for this.
“It’s no big deal. Playing around, is all,” I say.
“I think it’s a big deal,” he says softly, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
If it were anyone else, I’d shrug it off. I don’t normally let people touch me. Troy seems to be the exception. His hand is comforting, and it feels entirely too good.
“Is this guy in that manga comic you were telling me about last night? Guts?”
“It’s a graphic novel, not a comic. But no … uh … This is mine. I’m … uh doing my own story. It’s not anything important.”
He gives me a hard look but doesn’t argue the point. Those warm brown eyes always seem to see more than I’m comfortable showing people.
“What’s your guy’s deal? His sword is as big as he is but it’s cool as hell. Are those horns?”
“He’s actually a demon named Nox. He’s not human, but now he’s fighting for humans against the demons. I can’t tell you the entire story. Spoilers.”
Troy nods, and despite the warnings in my brain, I keep talking. I tell him about his nemesis and how I hadn’t named him yet, but he’s also a demon.
Troy listens as though he’s genuinely interested. Maybe that’s why I can’t quit talking. I haven’t spoken to anyone about Revenant Bones. Not even Arlo. Troy’s the exception to all my rules, it seems.
“Who’s his sidekick? Have you drawn him yet?”
“He doesn’t have a sidekick.”
“So, he’s always alone?”
“Well, he doesn’t need anyone else. He’s fine on his own.”
“But all the good guys have at least one buddy.”
“Well, he’s not exactly a good guy. He’s more of a bad guy doing good things.”
Troy laughs.
“Fine, but even the bad guys have a buddy, or a pet at least. Batman has Robin.” He pauses for a second before adding, “The Penguin had all of his penguins.”
I chuckle because that’s a terrible example. Terrible but funny.
“Nox doesn’t need anyone. He’s a badass all on his own.”
Troy gets a look on his face that I can’t define. He almost looks sad.
“Everybody needs someone sometimes. Even the bad guys,” he says, giving me a searching look.
I frown. Is he talking about my novel? It almost feels as if it’s more. That can’t be right.
“He’s supposed to be alone. Look, he’s a demon—it’s not as if someone’s going to be his friend or whatever. You’re missing the point.”
“Am I?” He grips my shoulder as though he’s reassuring me about something. I like it so much more than I should.
“Dinner’s almost ready. Mom and I made chicken pot pie and homemade corn bread today. Her cornbread’s the shit. You gotta try it.”
Dinner is as delicious as Troy said it would be.
It’s always fun when Troy’s parents are here for dinner.
They make me feel at ease, and that’s not easy.
I’m not usually very good with people, but they’re not like other people.
They also have the best stories. And we usually spend most of dinner laughing. I can deal with that.
When Gloria suggests that James and I handle the dishes, I don’t mind at all.
Since I live here and I’m no longer a guest, I’m happy to contribute.
James didn’t even bat an eye. I keep waiting for them to fight or say something rude to each other.
After three weeks, that still hasn’t happened.
I honestly didn’t think marriages like this were actually real. It’s both reassuring and terrifying.
James and I talk about strange client requests while he washes and I dry. For an electrician, he’s had some crazy customers. The time passes quickly, and we’re done before I know it. Troy’s parents give us both a hug and head home for the evening.
Troy’s watching reruns of Parks and Rec, camped out on his huge sectional sofa, when I come out of my bedroom after my nightly shower.
That thing takes up most of the room, but it’s super comfortable and perfectly worn in, so no one cares.
The huge wall-mounted TV takes up most of the side wall, so no matter where you sit, you can still see everything perfectly.
I’m wearing my joggers and an old, worn t-shirt, the kind that gets softer the more you wash it. It’s nice to be this relaxed after the tension of living with Jasper.
I’m happy to join him because April Ludgate is my spirit animal. It’s the episode where April schedules a bunch of meetings on March 31st, and it’s hilarious.
I’m just getting into it when my phone pings with notifications. People had better not be having work issues on a Sunday night. Fortunately, it’s only messages from Grindr. Not important.
Before the whole roommate debacle, I’d been thinking of looking for a hookup. Not for anything serious, but hanging out with a bunch of hot guys who work out half-naked was not helping to keep my libido under control. I figured a little horizontal workout can’t hurt to take the edge off.
I’m vers, but I’ve been in the mood to bottom lately. No one seems worth the trouble, so I haven’t followed up on anything. It’s probably time to delete it. I was having trouble getting into it anyway.
“Everything okay?” Troy asks.
“Yeah. Grindr’s hopping tonight. On a Sunday. Weird.”
Troy freezes, carefully not looking my way.
Parks and Rec continues in the background, but Troy’s silence is different. Charged.
“Are you?” he pauses, then continues, voice rougher than normal. “What’s the deal there? Are you looking for uh …?” Another awkward pause. He’s still deliberately looking at the TV, but neither of us is watching anymore.
He sighs and rubs his hand across his head, which he only does when he’s nervous or worried. That I know this tells me how focused I’ve been on him lately.
“Relationship or hookup?”
His knee is bouncing and he won’t glance in my direction, even though I try to catch his eye. Why is he asking?
“A hookup. I don’t do relationships.” I deliberately ignore the part of me that envies what Arlo and Tiernan have together. Reminding myself that relationships never work for me.
“Right. Sure. Just biology then.”
He sounds concerned. Or maybe nervous. It’s hard to tell and I don’t like that I can’t read him right now. Troy’s the kind of guy who isn’t good at hiding his feelings. Personally, I like that about him because then I don’t have to guess what he’s thinking.
“I guess,” I reply.
What’s he getting at?
“Gotcha.”
April and Ron make a game plan for the meetings while Troy and I sit in silence again, but it’s not the same. Now the whole room feels like the air before a lightning storm.
Troy’s growly voice cuts through the silence. “I could help with that.”
Now I’m frozen and I’m the one who won’t meet his gaze.
What the fuck?
“If you want. Or not. It’s whatever.”
I need to say something, but the words won’t come. I just can’t wrap my head around his offer.
This is a terrible idea. I absolutely should not be thinking about this seriously.
But I’ve spent three months admiring how he moves in the cage, and I’d be lying if I didn’t wonder how he moves in other ways.
Just the thought of him pinning me against the wall, while he fucks me until I can’t remember my name not only has my dick hard but also has me seriously considering this crazy idea.
He’s your damn roommate!
Again, terrible idea. I know better. I do.
And yet …
I kind of want to say yes.
“I mean I did already claim you,” Troy jokes. Why does that not sound as scary anymore?
I can’t stop my snort of laughter.
“Well, if you already claimed me, I guess it’s a done deal,” I tease.
Did I just agree? I did. I agreed.
What am I doing?
At some point Troy shuts off the TV, and we sit in awkward silence because what do we even say to each other right now.
“So … uh how’s this gonna work, then?” His question is tentative.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. That’s a question I can answer. And suddenly I know exactly how to keep this from getting out of hand. Rules. We need rules. I sit up straight, ready to negotiate.
“Let’s talk about a few ground rules.” I’m in my element now.
“Definitely.”
“Of course, the number one rule has to be no feelings. Right?”
“Sure?” He doesn’t look convinced.
Is that agreement? What is that?
“That sounds like a question,” I tell him.
“Uh … Sure,” he says it again with slightly more emphasis. Good enough.
“Second rule, because consent is important, both of us need to be into it. If one person isn’t there for it then it’s not happening. And we need to communicate about what we want and what we don’t. Boundaries are key here. Agreed?”
“Absolutely. I’ll always respect your boundaries, Micah. Always.”
“Cool. Third rule. Either of us can opt out at any time, but we need to let the other person know. No mixed signals. Okay?”
“Agreed.”
“Okay! Well… that’s settled.”
Rules will keep me safe.
Except it’s awkward again. We should at least kiss, right? Seal the deal?
“Why don’t you come sit with me?” I say to Troy, patting the spot next to me on the smooth leather couch.
“Oh, we’re starting now?” His eyes dart everywhere in the room except at me. He’s adorably nervous.
“Why not? The first time’s gonna be weird anyway, might as well get it over with,” I say with more confidence than I feel. I’ve had plenty of casual encounters. This is no different.
He rubs his head again. Then, with a determined set to his jaw, he sits down next to me.
Close enough that our legs touch. His bare skin is hot through the thin fabric of my joggers, but his solid body is a comforting weight pressed against my side.
He smells so fucking good and I just want to huff his neck because I’m addicted at this point.
We turn toward each other. Maybe I should have picked a better place for this. Couch kisses can be awkward. Troy is next to me, stiff as a board, so I’ll have to take the lead. That’s fine, I prefer that anyway.
I bring my hand up to cup his cheek and steady him.
His dark skin is warm, jaw slightly rough with end-of-the-day stubble.
His plump lower lip tempts me to bite, but that’s not the way to start this.
Instead, I brush my lips lightly against his.
They’re softer than I’d imagined, and I go back for more immediately. A faint tremor rolls through him.
Troy’s breath catches, then his arm circles my back and pulls me closer. His free hand wraps around my neck until he’s holding me against him, lips pressed together. What started as a fairly chaste kiss is morphing into something else entirely as he takes control.
His tongue on my lips has me opening to him, and our tongues tangle. Troy kisses me as if he’s trying to eat me alive, and I melt.
Where did this man learn to kiss?
Past me has always maintained some kind of control with every partner, but not with him. I’m drowning in the hot taste of his kisses and his cedar spice smell. My control has vanished, and I couldn’t care less.