52. Seth
Seth
I wake up the next day in a tangle of arms, legs and a twisted sheet. Kaden’s still sleeping, his hair a complete mess, and he still looks like a dream.
What if this was my life? To wake up next to Kaden every day, and spend the nights with our bodies pressed together? To eat breakfast in bed, and hold hands while watching a movie, making dinner together, showering together.
And I’d get to kiss and touch him whenever I wanted, and he’d want that too. He’d hold me until we fell asleep and wake me up with kisses on my forehead.
And I’d parade around with him, showing him off, and let the world know that this man loves me. He chose me, with everything I am, and everything I lack. He still chose me.
Get in loser, we’re going to Delusion Town!
Kaden’s morning wood is poking my thigh, and as much as I’d love to do something about that, the sound of Iggy padding around in the kitchen puts an end to that thought.
I quietly remove myself from under his arm and pull the duvet up over his chest before I take a piss and a quick shower and then tiptoes out of the bedroom.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Iggy quips around a cup of coffee.
“What time is it?”
“Ten-thirty. I’ve been up for hours,” she beams, like she didn’t black out on my couch last night from damn near alcohol poisoning. “There’s coffee and eggs.”
“Where did you find eggs?” I frown. Can’t remember the last time I had eggs at home.
“I went out to get it. Also, is that Dr Barbara eye patches in your fridge?”
“Yeah,” I say, filling a cup of coffee for myself and drop down on the chair beside her.
“Are they yours?”
I glance at her. “Yeah, they’re mine.”
She hums, taking a sip.
“What?” My stomach flips as I wait for her verdict.
“No wonder you always look so fresh then,” she chuckles. “Surprised you get any sleep at all with all that snoring, but those eye pads must work magic.”
I drop my shoulders, let a breath out, and turn on a frown. “Snore?”
“Like a freight train.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Yeah, you do,” Kaden says, padding into the kitchen. Sleep creases on his cheek. From my pillows. I love that.
“Do not.”
“You both do,” Iggy states around a bite of eggs.
“Why are you so perky?” Kaden frowns at her. “You should feel like shit. You had like twelve shots last night.”
“I don’t get hungover.”
Kaden and I share a look.
“Anyway, I need to take off, but thanks for last night! It was fun. Kaden, there’s coffee and eggs,” she says, rinsing her cup and putting it in the dishwasher. “And Seth, your couch is amazing. I slept like a princess. See you guys later.” And then she’s off.
Kaden drops down beside me. “You think she heard anything?”
I shake my head. “She’d have said something in that case.”
He yawns and rakes a hand through his hair. “When do you need to leave?”
“I’ve got one at twelve, so,” I reach for my phone, checking the time. “I need to leave in thirty. How ‘bout you?”
“Two-fifteen,” he says, putting some scrambled eggs on a plate and begins to eat.
“You can stay until then, if you want.” My place’s closer to the studio anyway.
“Yeah? You don’t mind?”
“No,” I shake my head. “Grab a shower and stuff. And you can borrow a hoodie of mine if you need a change.”
“Thanks,” he smiles, making my stomach flutter.
Kaden finishes his breakfast, and we clean up the kitchen together. Iggy seems to have kept herself busy taking care of last night’s mess in the living room, and I’m so grateful for that because if I’d have to even go near a shot glass now, the coffee in my belly wouldn’t have stayed for long.
“Alright,” I say, putting my shoes on. “Here’s a key. You can eat whatever you want, and there’re towels in the—”
“In the drawer in the bathroom,” he nods. “I got it.”
I chuckle. “’kay, see you later.”
At one-thirty, Kaden walks into the studio, wearing my white RTA hoodie.
The word SINNER is printed on the front in black letters.
It’s the first time I’ve seen Kaden wearing white, and he looks sinfully hot.
The contrast between his black hair and the light fabric does things to his features. Makes his eyes greener, too.
Damnit! Why does he have to be so damn beautiful when he can’t be mine?
He walks up to the counter, smelling like me—my body wash, my fabric softener, my—
“Is that my cologne?”
“Yeah, I borrowed some. That okay?”
Marry me already, you stupid, wonderful man.
“Of course. White looks good on you,” I say as I nod my chin at him. “You should wear it more often.”
“Nah, you know black’s my color. Like my soul,” he winks at me. He couldn’t be more wrong.
Fuck, the chokehold on my heart this guy has. I’m down bad for him.
I tilt my head back and forth, giving him a glance over. “I don’t know. You look more wholesome in white, all virgin-like.”
He points to the print. “Sinner, Seth. I’m a sinner.”
I squint, as if in thought. “You’re right. What was that in the bible, you should not fuck both women and men, or something?”
He burst out laughing. “Yeah, something like that.”
I keep sneaking glances at Kaden all day. And every time he looks back, my stomach flutters. He looks so good today. I mean, he always looks good but knowing he also smells like me and that he’s wearing my clothes and slept in my bed last night, it does things to me.
I know I’m setting myself up for disaster. I know this’ll come back to bite me in the ass, but I can’t help it. He’s under my skin, in my thoughts, all the time. I want to be near him, touch him, hold him, kiss him, look at him. And I want him to want me, too.
So, I’ve decided to ride this wave out. Come hell or high water, I’ll deal with the consequences when I get to that bridge. Because if this is all there is, I’m going to take it all and not leave a single crumb.
I got off work two hours ago. Kaden was still in the midst of tattooing some girl’s thigh—awesome design, of course, he’s a tattoo god. I showered and went to get dressed and that’s when I spotted the box I shoved in the far back of my closet.
My heart rate’s through the roof as I unpack it. And when I open it, I feel like I might get sick. And then I get another feeling in my stomach. Sadness, nostalgia, shame and anger, it’s a mix of everything.
I ignore most of its content until I find what I’m looking for, and take them out. It’s my black Amiri Thrasher jeans—my favorite pair when I was in high school. Before… everything.
God, I used to love these. I thought I looked so good in them. Lou said my ass was like a peach, and I used to feel sexy and slender and… And everything about that was just wrong.
I put them on, hands shaking as I pull the zipper up. They’re a tighter around my thighs and ass now than they were back then.
Chicken legs.
My front door lock clicks, and I freeze. Standing in the full-length mirror dressed in shame, my eyes grow wide and my pulse start hammering. I don’t have time to take them off. They’re too fucking tight.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck!
“Yo!” Kaden calls from the hallway, and I think my heart will give out on me, it’s beating so fast. My hands are clammy, and I feel like my hoodie’s strangling me.
I’m caught. I’m caught! What the fuck will he to think of me now?
He whistles as he walks into my bedroom. “New pants?”
“No! Uh, no, they’re, uh…” I shake my head, trying to come up with something but my mind’s blank. “They’re old. They’re not…” Not what? Not mine? “They’re old,” I repeat. “I’m not gonna wear them.” I force a chuckle, almost choking myself.
“Why not?” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
I frown. “’Cause they’re… I mean, they’re too tight.”
He gives me a once over, frowning a little. “What? Too small, or…?”
“No, but, like, they’re…”
“I think they look good,” he replies with a shrug.
I swallow, opening my mouth, then closing it again.
He tilts his head to the side. “What’s wrong? Why do you look all panicky?”
“I don’t, it’s just… They’re too tight. I look—” I bite my tongue.
“You look what?”
Like a fucking faggot.
I drop my head, staring at the floor, scratching my eyebrow. Get me out of here. Please, for the love of everything. Get me the fuck out of here!
“Gay,” I mumble.
He snorts. “What do you mean you look gay?”
“Like… gay.”
“Dude, are you high or something? What are you talking about?” He shakes his head. “You mean like feminine?”
I shrug, because I really don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with these pants, I just know that they are wrong. At least on me. Because they make me look gay.
Like a fag in girl clothes.
A disgusting fucking faggot.
He roams his eyes over me. “I mean, do you think I look feminine? ‘Cause I’ve got like ten pair of these,” he says, gesturing at his own black jeans. “And those are basically the same.”
“No,” I frown. And they’re not the same. Mine are tighter.
“Then…” He scratches behind his ear. “I don’t get it. I’m sorry.”
“I usually don’t dress like this.”
“I know,” he shrugs. “But I don’t see the problem. I think they look nice.”
I turn around, glancing at myself in the mirror. My heart’s trying to jump out of my chest. He walks up behind me, smelling like me and him, and I’ve never felt more naked as he sizes me up. It feels like he inspects every thread, counting them.
“This is not me,” I say, voice low.
He meets my eyes in the reflection.
“I think you look like you,” he says, before a smile takes over his face. “And look at this ass.” He glances down and puts his hands on my cheeks.
I snort. I’m feeling all sort of things, and I can’t place any of these emotions.
“You usually hide this,” he says, stroking his hands up and down my ass. “You shouldn’t.”
“No?” My voice is barely there, I feel pathetic. Like I’m looking for approval and I guess I am.
Kaden rests his chin on my shoulder, looking at me in the mirror, hands still on my ass.
“You look hot, Seth. But if you don’t wanna wear them, then don’t. I’d rather look at your ass without clothes anyway.” He winks at me and my stomach flutter.
“You don’t think…” I trail off, feeling embarrassed for many reasons.
“What?”
I shake my head. “I’m just… I’m too skinny.” I can’t even meet his eyes in the mirror. Hating this version of me. My cheeks are burning and my throat’s dry.
He wraps his arms around me. “Why don’t you come to the gym with me some time?” I don’t answer that before he adds, “That doesn’t mean I agree with you, Seth, but it doesn’t matter what I think. If you don’t feel good about yourself, then that’s something we can work on.”
I swallow and meet his eyes in the mirror. I feel so fucking small and vulnerable right now, it makes me sick. But he doesn’t look at me that way.
“Okay,” I nod.
“Okay,” he says, kissing me on my neck while his hands wander back down to my ass. “But we’re not working on this. This is perfect.” He squeezes my cheeks, nuzzling his nose into my neck. “Objectively speaking, of course.”
“Of course,” I agree sarcastically.
He slides his hands to the front, flipping the button of my jeans open. “Mind if I take them off?”
“You can try, they’re tight as—”
“Challenge accepted!” he says as he spins me around and lifts me. I barely have time to wrap my legs around him before he turns towards the bed, and basically throws me down on it.
“You love that you can lift me,” I laugh as he starts pulling on my pants to get them off.
“I do,” he chuckles. “Makes me feel all masculine in my feminine pants.”