I feel him next to me, and when I glance, his gaze is stormy. A mix of emotions too convoluted to pick just one. Fuck, I seeall of them.
He takes a breath, pushing back his hood, and they settle.
Determination.
His hand lifts between us, the sleeve pushed back enough to expose his upward-facing palm.
Fear.
“I want to embrace them, too,” he whispers thickly.
My breath hitches, even though I’m not sure what he’s talking about. I don’t even care what he means, I’m there. He’s asking me to be part of this?Absolutely. Always.
The feel of his trembling grip against mine leaves my nerves intact as he leads me back to his bedroom and softly closes the door behind him.
There’s not enough room for us both to stand in the middle, so I climb onto the bed and lean back against the wall. It’s stiff and I’m nearly crawling out of my skin as I wait, but wait is what I do.
Whatever he needs from me … I’ll give it.
He’s frozen there except for fiddling fingers along the hem of the hoodie that doesn’t belong to me anymore, a wave of uncertainty radiating from him.
“Only if you’re sure,” I barely manage to whisper, my heart in my throat and my stomach in knots.
For a long beat, he stays like that. Fingering the edges of the hoodie’s tapered waist, gripping and releasing the fabric.
But then his gaze slams to mine, the vulnerability shining in his sweet irises like a kick to the chest.
He lifts it then, whipping the material over his head and letting it drop to the floor.
I freeze while he pants, the shine staring back morphing to utter fear as he stands there in just a t-shirt for the first time ever.
The sight of his body calls to me, Idesperatelywant to see him, who he is underneath it all, yet I keep my eyes locked on his.
Fingers flitting over the hem of my t-shirt covering his frame, he stares right back.
“If you’resure.”
It’s barely audible over the pounding of my heart, though his eye still twitches.
There’s a grit to his jaw as he lifts, tears in his eyes when the fabric clears his head and joins the thicker pile on the floor.
“Please,” he mouths, his cheeks gone pale and tracked, and I launch across the bed until I’m right in front of him.
“Tell me what you need,” I say to the honey color. “Tell me, bubbles.”
“S-s-s-s-sssseee,” he chokes out and I cup his jaw. “See m-m-me.”
I swallow hard, my own eyes burning, and study his gaze. “I already see you, baby.”
His bottom lip wobbles, more tears flooding over his lashes.
“I w-want … you to.”
Sucking in a breath, I flick my gaze between his in search of any hesitation. Pressure. Anything that would tell me he might feel forced to do this.
Instead, all I see is that innocent vulnerability staring right back.
And maybe even something big likehope.
