I know he said he had to hang with some of the guys from work, but what if he heard my message and he needs to think it over? What if he’s not as sure about us as he was when he was here and he’s already reconsidering the idea?
I return home that night, still not having heard from him, and I can hardly get to sleep because of it. I keep thinking he has to reach out at some point.
Nothing.
* * *
I work my way through the covers I need to get done for my client, side-eyeing my phone sitting on the desk right beside me just in case he calls, but it’s five in the afternoon now.
That’s it. I weirded him out. Or he realized, now that he’s home, this isn’t what he really wants. I get that. I understand. I just wish he would call me back and say it.
I like to think he hasn’t heard my message yet, but I doubt it, especially since he wanted me to follow up with him.
There's a knock on my door. When I answer, Jordan stands there. “Hey man, how's it going?” he asks me.
“It's going okay. Any chance you’ve heard from Mikey today?”
“No. But I talked to him last night. Why?”
And my suspicion is confirmed that he just doesn’t want to talk to me right now. “No reason.”
“I was gonna order a pizza if you wanted any.”
“Yeah, that'd be great, thank you.”
I return to my desk.
I’ve officially given up.
He's definitely not calling. And I don't want to, but I’m so sad thinking maybe I fucked it all up by telling him that I wanted something more. Maybe we would've been better friends if I'd kept my mouth closed, but that wouldn’t have been enough. At least now I can say I tried. I didn’t give up on something I really wanted like my dad did.
Half an hour passes, and there's another knock at the door. I wait for Jordan to get it, but I don't hear him stir, so I call his name. “Jordan! I think the pizza's here!”
The knock again.
Figuring he might be showering, I answer the door for him.
Standing outside in his leather jacket, Mikey lifts his head, those bright blue eyes glistening.
“Hey,” I say, and all my senses are totally thrown because I can't figure out what the fuck he's doing here.
He scans me up and down before he comes at me, pushing me back against the wall in the entryway, his lips crushing against mine. His hands move around my body slowly as he pulls me to him.
I don’t even care why he’s here right now. Just that he is.
I enjoy the feel of his body and delight in it the way I have so many times before. How can I miss him this much when it’s only been two weeks? Two of the longest weeks of my life.
When I can finally think straight again, I ask between kisses, “What are you doing here?”
“You called.”
“You could've called back.”
He pulls away, looks into my eyes with a sneaky smirk on his face. “Felt like what I had to say needed to be said in person.”
“And what is that?”
“I'm falling in love with you, really hard. I mean, there was no turning back before, but Scott, I don't want to be all the way across the country from you if we're gonna try to make things work. I don't care what we have to do. If I have to come here or if you want to move out there, but I want you in my life. You're such a stupid shit for having thought you didn't want me in yours.”
