When I come back, he’s still standing there, bathed in the artificial light, staring at the chandelier, even though it’s not lit. He seems in deep thought. Bothered by something, maybe.
Does this happen to him often? What’s bothering him?
“Do you like it?” I ask as I hand him a towel. Our fingers brush as he takes it from my hand.
“Huh?”
I nod upward. “The chandelier. You’re staring at it.”
His voice softens. “Right, uh… yeah. I guess it’s kind of—”
“Pretty?” I ask, scrubbing my hair with the towel. When I look up, I notice he’s staring at me.
“Yeah.”
“That’s because I have impeccable taste. I know a good thing when I see it.” I smirk as I take off my soaked shirt and he lets out a breath that I’ll take as a compliment.
He does the same—undressing himself piece by piece as he walks toward his bedroom. Just as I get settled on the couch, underneath the flannel blanket, I catchhim in the doorway to his bedroom, standing there in nothing but his underwear.
It’s the first time since I’ve been here that I’ve seen him like this. I’ve seen him shirtless, sure, but not pantsless.
“Good night, Alex,” he says. Moonlight streams through his window, lighting him up from behind. The shadows contrast the dips and valleys of his muscles in his forearms. His palms brace the sides of his doorway and his shoulders hunch just the slightest, drawing attention to their definition.
My cock awakens in my briefs beneath the blanket and I make no move to hide the way I’m looking at him.
He’s hot as hell. Always has been, and I think he always will be.
“Good night, Jordan,” I say as he fades into the shadows, leaving his door wide open.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jordan
I lie in bed, staring at my ceiling and listening to the pitter patter of rain. My skin is still cold from the rain, my hair damp. There’s a chill to my bed. It’s always been there, but it’s been worse lately. Ever since Alex and I shared it.
It was a mistake. I knew it would be, yet I did it anyway.
I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Making mistakes with him. Doing things I shouldn’t. But that’s par for the course with us, isn’t it?
Sure, two times isn’t a lot in comparison to the time I’ve known him, but they were pretty big events, so they mean a lot.
Though there is no light on my bedroom ceiling, all I can see is that chandelier from the living room. It’s stupid, nothing but a light, but I keep thinking about it.I keep thinking about how when Alex is around, things in my life are better.
What would have happened if he never left me all those years ago? I was ready to trysomethingwith him then. Can’t I do that again now?
But what if he leaves me again…
That’s something we have never talked about, and I’m not sure he knows I’m even upset about it. Though, he should, because why the fuck did he just leave me like that?
Does it even matter?
Probably not. It’s in the past and though it still bothers me, it’s not something I’m holding against him. I know why he left, and so I know it wasn’t about me or us. It was about him. Alex chose to do something for himself. How can I be mad at him for that? Especially when I was refusing to give him parts of me that he wanted.
I’m not stupid. I know there’s something here between Alex and me. Something neither of us talk about because I won’t talk about it and he knows me well enough to keep his mouth shut.
But what if…
I turn my head to face the living room. He’s right there, not far at all, lying on my couch. Sleeping maybe. Or maybe he’s awake just like I am, worrying about stupid life things because life sucks most times.
