CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT DEAN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
DEAN
“You didn’t have to come,” I say, and Nick swats my forehead, rolling his eyes.
“The fuck I did. You think I’m gonna leave without seeing you one last time?”
That certainly would have made things easier. If I’m not mistaken, he’s flying out to Phoenix in under five hours, the drive to Boston isn’t short, and therefore, he’s already running late.
I shake my head, and he presses his lips to mine.
“No way I just up and leave without seeing you. Not a chance.”
The last half hour has been a lot of the same: Nick with his arms around my waist, mine around his, and both of us mostly silent and ignoring the ticking clock.
I was expecting something like this, honestly—we’re two guys who got in too deep and are soaking up the last seconds of each other to get us through the next… who knows how long.
Bringing a hand up, I scratch the back of his neck, making him hum comfortably as my fingers skim his freshly trimmed hair.
Nick cleaned up in preparation for meeting his new team, not that he had to, and even though I appreciated seeing his sharp new look, not being able to enjoy it for more than a day fucking sucks.
But not as much as the knowledge that he’s leaving.
“You’re gonna miss your flight,” I murmur into his forehead.
Nick grumbles an adorable complaint and nuzzles further into my neck. Jesus, he’s clingy, and not in a bad way. Not at all.
Okay, maybe if he’s clingy to the point of missing his flight, getting dropped from his new team, and losing out on his dreams, it’d be a little bad. So I make the difficult decision for him, extracting myself from his grip and planting my hands on his shoulders, staring into his shining eyes.
“You really need to get going,” I tell him. “Don’t make Ian speed all the way to the airport.”
As much as I would have loved being able to send Nick off, I’m not the only person in his life. He deserves to spend time with his best friend, too. I’m very aware of how much more time he’s been spending with me lately.
Besides, if I’m gonna crumble into a puddle of sadness, I’d prefer it to happen in the privacy of my own home.
Nick lets out a massive sigh, nodding and stepping backward. All of his stuff is here, packed into a single roller suitcase and a backpack, and he’s getting Jeremy to ship the rest of his stuff to Lansing at the end of the semester.
Hoping to lighten the mood, I chuckle and shove his shoulders. “Go. Knock the team’s socks off, or whatever you baseball players say.”
“Knock it out of the park?”
That works too.
There’s been a knot in my stomach for the past however many days, one that’s only uncoiled a tiny bit whenever I’ve been with Nick, and now, the knot is tangling hard. I step closer to his stationary body, going in for a hug and redirecting into a kiss when he brings his head forward.
The useless, illogical temptation to drag Nick to bed for a proper make-out session surges the second my lips touch his.
We keep things gentle, maybe with the false hope it’ll help us separate a little easier when the time comes, but the mere brush of his skin against mine, his heady, addictive taste, and the soft moan rising from the back of his throat replaces the usual tangling of our tongues.
Nick pulls back abruptly, making my brain do a silent scream for more, and I don’t give in.
“Alright,” he says, grabbing onto his suitcase. “I’ll see you for a bit after you graduate?”
“Yeah, definitely,” I remind him. We both ignore the unknown number of months that’ll follow. “See you.”
And he’s off. The door shuts behind him with a gentle click, leaving me alone to wallow in my thoughts. It isn’t like I let myself have too many of those—I just know I’m gonna spiral into missing him and conjuring up every last outlandish possibility for us.
We’ll be okay, I remind myself. Somewhat selfishly, I let myself find a little solace in the fact Nick won’t have an easy time finding someone else. He said so himself. I definitely won’t.
I need the rest of the day off, for sure.
There won’t be any productivity found anywhere in my scattered brain, so I trudge to the bedroom, slip into one of Nick’s hoodies he left behind for me, and flop onto my back.
The ceiling is boring, blank, and not conducive at all to spacing out, and I turn over to cover my head with a pillow like a child.
The dark silence that sinks into me is as much comfort as I can hope for right now.
I stay fixed and rigid on my mattress with every intention of falling asleep like this, even though it’s only three-thirty in the afternoon.
Until I feel a sharp zing on my ass. Then the pillow gets yanked out of my hands.
“Stop sulking and come here,” Nick orders, and out of instinct, I roll over and jump up.
He’s…back?
“Nick,” I try to scold him, but my voice is reverent instead. “You’re really gonna miss your flight.”
The emotion is clear on his face—his handsome features are screwed into a frown, and his whole vibe is nothing short of broken. “I won’t, and I don’t care.”
He stands still, his eyes fixed off to the side, and I stay frozen since I don’t know what he’s getting at, and—
Nick launches into a hug. His whole body lunges at me, those strong arms flinging around my shoulders and grabbing onto me like I’m a tree in a windstorm.
“Just give me two more minutes,” he pleads into my chest.
I indulge him. My own arms travel to his back and grip onto his lats, loosening when he only tightens his hold on me.
“Thank you,” I manage. “I wanna soak up as much Nick as I can. Let me burn you into my brain.”
Shit, I shouldn’t have said the last part—Nick’s voice fucking breaks on an exhale as he sucks back a sob, and I don’t want to make this harder than it needs to be.
My solution is to run my fingers along his lower back, instantly relaxing his tense posture, and as promised, I soak up as much of him as I can.
His phone rings.
He ignores it.
The ringtone sounds again.
“Ian,” he tells me. “I asked him to keep time while he waits in the car.”
“Nick, I’m sorry, but you need to go,” I insist. “I don’t want you to, but—”
“You’re right,” he mutters. “It sucks, but you can kiss it better, and then I’ll leave.”
I do, and thankfully, I don’t have to shove my endearingly-but-inconveniently clingy boyfriend out of my apartment.
He leaves of his own volition, not that him doing so makes any of this easier. Not at all.