The more I thought about his words, the more bothered I became. Maybe it was true that he’d never done anything like that before, but he hadn’t done it because he was drunk. If he hadn’t said yes when I asked permission, if he hadn’t been so hard in my hand, if he hadn’t come so hard and so fast and so long in my mouth it nearly choked me, then maybe I’d believe it was the whiskey.
But no. He’d done it because he’d wanted to. That’s what you were thinking, Derek. I want this. Plain and simple. And he’d wanted it badly—enough to risk rejection. Enough to go after it hard. Enough to say fuck the consequences and put your mouth on me. I was one hundred percent certain about that.
And maybe that was it. Maybe that’s what had me a little riled up. If he’d come out here and simply said I’m sorry about the way I acted, it was a mistake, let’s forget it and move on, that would be different. At least then he wouldn’t be denying the truth.
I was hurt and angry for about thirty seconds before realizing how childish I sounded.
Jesus, Maxim. Get over yourself. What good would it do for him to admit the truth? What difference would it make? If he doesn’t want more of you, there’s nothing you can do about it. He’s done so much for you, the least you can do is respect his feelings on this.
A few minutes later, I turned off the hose and wound it up on the reel mounted to the side of the garage, vowing to honor his wishes. Whatever his reasons were, they were good enough for me, and as much fun as last night had been, however good it had felt to be so close to him, I’d try to forget it had happened.
But when I went into the house and saw him at the kitchen table, my thoughts ran away from me. I want to kiss you again. I want my hands on you. I want your skin on mine.
I couldn’t think of one person who’d ever had such a powerful pull on me. It was as if gravity was somehow stronger between us, as if it wasn’t a feeling at all, but an inescapable force. It left me feeling disoriented and off-center and almost powerless.
I liked it. And I didn’t like it.
But one thing was certain—I had to keep it hidden.
After lunch, during which neither of us spoke much, Derek brought his laptop to the kitchen table, along with pen and paper. “Let’s see what’s out there for apartments right now. Want to sit over here so you can see?”
“Okay.” I moved to his side of the table, but I was careful to keep some distance between our chairs. Getting too close to him was not a good idea.
“That’s for you to take notes.” He slid the paper and pen in front of me. “And after we ballpark what
your rent will cost, we can make a monthly budget.”
“Ballpark?” I wondered.
“Oh—it means to make a reasonable guess at something. To get close to a number, even if you’re not exact.”
“Got it.”
Derek started the search, and as the minutes ticked by, it was increasingly clear that I’d have to double my savings in order to move in anywhere decent. Even a small room and bath in a shared apartment would cost at least a thousand dollars a month. First and last months’ rent would eat up what I already had saved, and I had to think about utilities, groceries, transportation, and clothing, too. Derek helped me estimate what those things might cost per month, and we added up the numbers. The total was slightly alarming.
“Wow,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “California is expensive.”
“It is,” Derek agreed.
“And I still need a laptop.”
“I thought about that,” he said. “I know it’s high on your priority list, but realistically, getting a new one will have to wait until you’re on your feet. In the meantime, I have one you can use.”
“You do?”
“Yes. It’s older, so it’s not very powerful or fast, but it’s something. I just have to wipe it clean, and it’s yours as long as you need it.”
“Thank you.” I met his eyes and realized we hadn’t left enough space between us at all. “I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s nothing.” He licked his lips. Stared at mine. “Just an old laptop.”
“It’s everything.” What are you thinking right now? “And it means so much to me.”
We both went silent, the tension between us so heavy I felt smothered by it. The hum of the refrigerator receded as my heart thundered louder in my chest. He leaned toward me slightly, and it took all my willpower to stay still. Kiss me again. I want you to. I want it all.
His breath came faster, his chest expanding and contracting. I knew what I’d feel if I put my hand on it—the riotous banging that clamored inside my ribcage too.
“You should hate me for last night,” he said, his voice deep and quiet.