33. Seth
Seth
“Are you moping?” Lou asks on the phone.
“No,” I state, pressing pause on the movie.
“No? So, what are you up to then?”
“Watching a movie,” I mumble.
“What movie?” she prods.
I sigh. “I don’t remember the title.”
“Girl.”
“What?”
“You’re lying.”
“Excuse me?” I frown.
“Tell me the name of the movie.”
“I told you, I don’t—”
“Is it The Greatest Showman?”
I glance at the still image of Hugh Jackman in his top hat paused on the screen. “So, what if it is? It’s a great fucking movie?”
“It is, but it’s also your comfort movie, which usually means you’re moping.”
“Well, I’m not moping,” I lie, and for some reason, she lets it go and starts talking about her job, but I can’t keep up.
My head’s spinning. Because my whole apartment—and especially the throw pillow I’m currently hugging—smells like Kaden.
And he sucked my dick like he’s never done anything else in his life.
Like he knew exactly what he was doing, and why was that?
And why did I let him do it? I wasn’t going to.
I told myself I’ll do this for him, because I’d do anything for him, and getting my hands on him is just a bonus.
But I wasn’t going to let him touch me back.
I think about his hands on my body more than I’d like to admit and that’s bad enough. Actually letting him touch me? So much worse. I don’t want to let go around him. It’s not safe. I can’t let him in.
And having his hands and mouth on me… I didn’t want to know what that felt like, because what if I can never have it again? But, now I know and it was better than I could ever have imagined.
And then, he went ahead and kissed me, and basically marked me with his cum—I shouldn’t love that either.
And he told me he gets vulnerable after sex, and so do I but I try so fucking hard not to. And why is it so easy for him to be vulnerable in the first place while I’m fighting for my fucking life not to be?
And what if he’s bisexual?
What if he’s actually bisexual, playing on my team, on my field and he still doesn’t want me… Then that’d mean I’m the problem—not his sexuality, and I’m having a hard fucking time dealing with that.
And I’m not sure I want to find out.
And maybe that’s also part of the reason why I always take command, and haven’t let him touch me. Because a part of me doesn’t want him to figure this shit out. Because I’d rather keep him in the dark, confused, and clinging to me than share him with the rest of the world.
And that makes me a grade-A asshole.