I nod and he grins before making a beeline for the two of them.
“Did he just ask your permission?” Zenia asks.
“I think so,” I say, frowning after him. I’m trying to frown, but I can’t fight the smile that’s determined to come out.
“What did I miss?” Zenia asks.
Honestly, I couldn’t tell him even if I wanted to. I’m not sure what’s happening right now. Between the weird possessiveness in my head concerning this guy and Felton’s willingness to take my directions…? I just don’t know.
Meeting Zenia’s eyes, I shrug. “No idea.”
It’s clear that he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t comment again until we’re led through the bar and to a booth in the attached restaurant. I sit where I can see Felton.
“We don’t expect you to break his confidence,” Denny tells me as soon as the hostess leaves. The way Zenia frowns at him and then shakes his head makes me believe that was more for Zen than it was for my benefit.
“Let’s talk about you,” I redirect, glancing at Zenia so he knows I’m referring to him before looking at my menu. “What’s up,bro?”
He rolls his eyes. “Nothing. Why?”
Denny huffs quietly.
“You okay since our groupie?” I ask.
His gaze flickers to Felton, as if he’s close enough to hear it. “Is it really a groupie if you weren’t involved?” he hisses.
“Yes,” Denny and I say together.
“I’m fine,” Zenia huffs in exasperation. “It’s just a little weird.”
“He doesn’t know,” I say. “He doesn’t even ask.”
“How can he not ask?” Zenia wonders, shaking his head. “How do you not want to know who the dicks belonged to that fucked you? I’d at least want to see their faces.”
“Before they fucked you, huh?” Denny asks.
Zenia rolls his eyes again.
“Dude, he trusts Ren. Not a big deal,” Denny says.
The conversation stops as the waitress comes over and I’m left staring at my menu as pieces of a puzzle I didn’t know I was stuck on suddenly shift slightly and click into place. Feltondoestrust me. He trusts me with something as big as finding him a gang bang and not asking anything more. He trusted I would keep him safe—physically and his identity.
He trusts me to comfort him when his family has made him feel like shit. He’s not only called me in the middle of the night in a panic, but he’s also shown up on my doorstep.
But most of all, he’s trusting me with his big things. The burdens he carries. His stress. His decisions—small and big, from going to sit with his friends and changing his clothes to hiring an attorney to sue the fuckers at his old agency and finding him a new one.
It hasn’t escaped my attention that he hasn’t chosen or made any inquiries. I haven’t missed the way he instantly becomes stressed when I bring it up.
If I had to wager a guess, he’d choose whichever one I tell him to without question.
I look at Felton across the space and the possessiveness I’ve been fighting for a while now settles over me like a jacket. Maybe he’s mine after all.
Felton looks up and meets my eyes. He gives me a smile, not looking away when I keep staring. His smile gets shy and the tightness in my chest expands. Fuck. Holy fuck.
I smile in return and see that he immediately relaxes, bowing his head a little more. Bashfully. It’s cute.
“What’s going on right now?” Denny asks, clearly witnessing our exchange.
Felton turns back to his friends when Dasan says something. For a minute, I can’t look away. “Fucked if I know,” I murmur.
