Meal done, Beau excuses us and tugs me away from the dining room, getting our luggage on the way. I dart looks back and forth between him and his parents, waiting for them to tell us we can’t sleep in the same room. Regardless of how old we are.
But white parents, man. They let us wander off, clearly going to the same room, caught up in their own conversation. Even though we can fornicate in there with no chaperone.
This would not have flown in either Gupta household of my youth. When I was a teenager, definitely not, but also not now. Not without a ring on a certain finger, at the very least.
We walk down a hall without parental wrath stopping us in our tracks, and then up some stairs. Beau opens the door at the end of the hall for me and I walk in.
Bubba, realizing his people are separating, chooses us and meanders up the stairs too, his large frame sauntering into the room before Beau can close the door.
I look around while I wait for the parental smiting. His room is disappointingly adult, just like he said it would be. A huge bed dominates it, with the rest of the available space taken up by a simple dresser. The wall is a cool blue color, with zero posters identifying his potentially embarrassing childhood interests. Two open doors lead to the bathroom and the walk-in closet.
“Do you mind if he stays in here? He’s used to sleeping with me.” Beau looks adorably unwilling to kick the dog out.
“He’s more than fine. I’m less sure ifI’mallowed to be in here.” I’m still waiting for one of the parents to burst in, call me a Jezebel and physically throw me out of the house.
“I’m a grown man.” Beau’s got laughter in his eyes. “But if you want another room, I can take you to a guest room. I want you to be comfortable.”
“This is fine.” As long as I’m not going to have to wear a Scarlet Letter at any point. I take my suitcase to the closet to show him I’m committed to the room choice. “How far are your parents again?”
“Other side of the house. Plenty far enough.”
“That isnotfar enough.” I emphatically disagree, my head shaking vigorously so he knows I mean business. About there being no business. The business ofnobusiness. “In the same house will never be far enough. Unless you live in Biltmore. You know, the biggest house in America over in Asheville? Built by some Vanderbilts.” I clarify in case he’s not up on his American historic houses.
Beau gets some clothes out of the dresser and then starts taking his clothes off. Which is a perfectly logical next step in getting ready for bed. But it feels so wrong in his parents’ house.
I tear through my suitcase to find my own nightclothes and dash into the bathroom to change, closing the door once I’m in.
“Really? I’ve already seen it all,” he yells far too loudly after me.
I get dressed in what has to be a personal record and open the door again. “Keep your voice down. It’s different when your parents are right out there. It’s weird enough thinking about what they think we’re doing in here.”
Beau’s face scrunches up. “Sleeping, I hope.”
I’m already shaking my head. “Not chancing it.” I commandeer some pillows and set them up in the middle of the bed.
Beau, not helping, doesn’t even offer moral support. He leans against his dresser, arms crossed like a giant, judgemental redwood. He gets in bed with a sigh when I’m done, Bubba jumping up behind him and claiming the foot of the bed. “I’m gonna miss falling asleep with you tucked in close,” he says, over the wall.
I can only see his eyes and hair over the pillows, but it’s enough to tempt me. Because I’m already missing him too. Desperately.
But. “I’m not as experienced as you are doingthingswith your parents around,” I say with all the outrage of a virginal Victorian miss, not even going to chance saying the wordsex.
Beau falls onto his back, staring at the ceiling and its boring, non-baseball-themed fan. “Please don’t put it like that.”
“Stay on your side and it won’t be an issue.” I break my own rules to lean over and land a quick kiss on his cheek, back on my side before his hands reach me.
It’s going to be a long, lonely night.
Walls don’t work.
I mean, it shouldn’t be a surprise since people have spent millennia going under, over, and around them, and yeah, this one is made of pillows, so it’s already got some structural deficiencies. But still. Here I am. Half on top of Beau with the pillows I carefully stacked last night scattered on the ground or at the foot of the bed. Bubba got in on the shuffle, cuddling against my other side.
Thank god he’s upgraded the bed into a king-size one.
I sigh, not bothering to move from my position even though I’m being cooked between the twin furnaces of Beau and Bubba. It’s too late to move now for virtue’s sake, and I really enjoy this sandwich. Temperature notwithstanding.
The sigh wakes up Beau, who groggily picks his head up and takes in the tableau. “Who beat the wall?”
“Both of us?” That’s not verified, but it would be nice if I wasn’t the only one who was affected by the close proximity.
