But something is most definitely going on. Do I stop fighting it and let it happen? Am I prepared for that?
Maybe more importantly, can I put a stop to it if I want to?
TWENTY
FELTON
For the last few days,I’ve been playing games with Willits and Dasan. They’re over a lot. While Dasan says his controller is broken and Willits claims his cousin has taken over his house while he looks for his own, I suspect there’s a reason they’re here instead of us going there.
But I don’t care. I like them here.
Ren stopped over last week to check on me while they were here, so I invited him to play. Since then, we’ve been playing the four of us because we can make even teams.
I enjoy sitting close to him. We’re on the couch and I’m practically touching him with how close I’m sitting. In fact, when I bend my leg so my foot is under me, my knee is definitely pressed against his thigh. I sit like that for a while until my foot falls asleep and begins to tingle.
His warmth pressing into me makes me relax. There’s always tension, even though it feels more manageable now. Like, I know those who think I live my life like shit are just barely on the outside looking in. Waiting for their time to strike. I can hear their whispers. Their glares. I can feel their disapproval hanging heavily over me.
Thankfully, Dasan and Willits’ presence keeps them away, and keeps my mind from lingering there too long.
Ren being here, where his heat transfers from his body to mine, is an extra blanket of warmth and security. His presence doesn’t just push away the clouds that hang around, he brings in the sun.
I lift my foot and tuck it under me again, letting more of my leg press against his. I’m always very aware of him being this close. There’s no way my focus is as trained on the game as it should be. Fortunately, this is a brand-new game for all of us, so we’re learning together. I can reasonably claim that my distraction is actually just me learning the game. It’s totally believable.
In reality, at least 40% of my attention is on Ren. The way he watches the television. How smoothly his fingers move on the controller, as if he’s been playing his entire life. He doesn’t have the knee-jerk reaction to lean forward with the joystick or even yell at the television when something goes wrong.
He’s always just… calm.
I don’t imagine that he looks at me often. At first, I thought I was because I wanted him to. I like when he looks at me. There’s no judgment there. No disappointment. No disgust that I’m failing at life. No horror that I was making porn.
His expression is always kind. Warm. When he smiles, I can pretend it’s only for me.
I’m ready to come out of my skin when he rests his hand on my thigh. It’s not just warmth that spreads through me but a sudden surge of fire races through my body until I’m nearly sweating and panting. I think even my pupils dilate because everything looks brighter and yet I can’t quite see anything clearly.
Ren’s fingers move on me. Gently. Not a lot, but small motions. I feel his fingers everywhere. My cock is truly trying to raise a flag right now, which is wildly inappropriate.
I’m startled out of my head when my phone rings. A shudder races through me as a bucket of icy water dumps over my head. There’s a moment when the sound feels foreign and far away. It makes me jump and then stare at it with confusion.
Leaning forward, I don’t recognize the number. I almost don’t answer it, but then, what if it’s Ren’s lawyer friend, Imry? What if it’s the other lawyers? What if it’s a new agent calling to talk to me?
In the end, I lean forward and answer. “Hello?”
“You’ve really blocked your own father’s number?”
The ice bucket is now a fireman’s hose, and it feels like I was just slammed in the chest with the blast of water. My gut twists.
I shouldn’t have answered the phone.
“You sneak out in the middle of the night like a child and then block our numbers? Is this really how a grown man acts?”
His voice grates over me, making me shiver. The light feeling, the happiness and beginning to feel comfortable in my skin again that I’ve achieved over the last few weeks has been viciously torn apart. I feel the shreds of it hanging off me like the fringe on a leather jacket.
“No,” I whisper.
“Your mother and I only knew you were still alive since you’re still playing hockey. Not well, but somehow you keep your contract.”
Every word feels like a projectile. It hits, making me catch my breath, and lodges in my chest where it burrows in deeper like a parasite. The numbness I used to feel had been coaxed away by Ren’s kindness and now I feel unprotected.
“What’s this I hear that you’resuingyour agent? Who’s going to want you?”
