He shrugs. “Everyone’s got their thing. So, pancakes?”
He turns away from me to grab the frying pan from one of the cupboards and I’m left with a bunch of familiar thoughts swirling in my head.
I have no fucking clue why I sometimes get aroused by weird shit like that. It’s not like I’m actually attracted to a syrup bottle; and I sure as fuck don’t want to have sex with baboons. I have no doubt the ladies on the Croatian and South Korean women’s table tennis teams are lovely people, but from my vague memory of that incident, there were only one or two cameras actually on the game and the ball was the focus, not the players. It was the grunting that got my attention.
And those aren’t the only examples. I don’t know if it’s a brain thing or a body thing, or what…it’s just that for whatever reason, shit like that often causes the same arousal response as porn.
Usually, I just ignore it and it passes. But sometimes it doesn’t, and I just need to go for it.
That’s one of the reasons I’m not a fan of Skyler’s whole potholders thing. If there’s anyone who knows about inappropriate masturbation, it’s me.
“Oh, good news—looks like we ran out of Mrs. Butterworth’s,” Skyler says, brandishing a fresh bottle of syrup he’s just dug out of the pantry. He hits me with an arched eyebrow. “Do I need to worry about you with this one?”
I glance at the label, glowering when I see the illustration of Aunt Jemima at top. “Just give me the fucking syrup.”
ChapterFour
Skyler
“Where is he?Where’s my baby?” I hear a familiar voice demand excitedly when I step out of my bedroom on Monday morning, fully dressed for work.
“I thought I was your baby?” Jackson asks, pouting at the phone he has held up in front of him.
“You’re my beautiful boy,” I hear Steph, his mom, saying. “Although I’d prefer it if I could actuallyseeyour beautiful face and not just your beautiful head,” she adds wryly. “Seriously, that beard is getting out of control. You look like you’ve got something growing on your face.”
“I do have something growing on my face,” Jax says dryly. “It’s called facial hair.”
I’m unable to hold in a snort of laughter, and that prompts Steph to let out an excited squeal. “Skyler!Come over here so I can see you all handsome for your first day.”
“You know, I could just move the phone,” Jackson says, but I’ve already started moving.
“Ooh, nice choice,” Steph says with a nod of approval as I strut toward the phone like I’m on a catwalk. “Love the tie. Do a spin for me.” I oblige her and she applauds, continuing with her enthusiastic gushing. “Love it! Oh, I can’t believe it’s my little baby’s first day of work! I feel so old!”
“Jesus, Mom, it’s not like he’s never had a job before,” Jackson says.
“But he’s a proper lawyer now,” she says with a beaming smile..
“Not quite,” I remind her. “I haven’t got my Bar results yet.”
She gives the camera a dismissive wave. “Oh, you’ll pass. You’re such a smart boy, and you’ve worked so hard for this, Skyler. I’m so proud of you.”
I feel myself blushing furiously under the lavish praise. But it also feels pretty amazing; I’d probably deny it if anyone actually asked me, but a huge reason I’ve worked so hard all these years was for this exact moment: to make Steph proud. Next to Jackson, Steph’s my absolute favorite person in the world. I mean, no offense to Deacon—he’s an amazing friend and I couldn’t live without him—but Steph’s just…special. It’s not an exaggeration to say she saved my life. Probably multiple times.
I left home for college when I was eighteen and haven’t said a word to my parents since. But Steph I talk to at least once a week. She’s just the fucking best.
“Jesus, Mom, are you crying?” Jackson asks.
“No,” she squeaks, wiping a hand over her eyes.
I let out a soft chuckle, a broad grin spreading across my face. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, Deacon’s dating a guy, like, five years older than you,” I tell her.
She blinks at me. “Huh? Better about what?”
“About being old.”
She tosses back her head with a tinkling laugh. “Oh my god. Is this your way of telling me I should look for a twenty-five-year-old boyfriend?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
