“Will Amber be there?” Mom asks, narrowing her eyes. She feels much better when Amber is there to make sure I stay safe, which is a little annoying if I’m honest.
“Yes, Mother. Amber will be there.”
“Drinking so much is going to make you fat.” Felix says, taking another huge bite of pancake. I stare at him for a moment before lunging across the kitchen to grab him. He screams and hops up, running around it. “Mom help!” She does not help—only laughs. Felix in return puts Benjamin’s chair that he is actively sitting in between the two of us.
“What the—”
“Bear—save me. Aaron won’t hit you; I know it.” Breathing heavily, I look down at Benjamin—who still even now—does not look up at me.
“Clean up your own messes, Fe.” He grabs his plate, puts it in the dishwasher and walks out of the room. Felix looks between the door he walked through and me—clearly confused.
“What’s wrong with Benny Bear?” Mom asks, staring at the two of us. Felix narrows his eyes at me then looks away.
“No clue—but I’m following. Thanks for breakfast, Mom!” Felix runs out of the room in the direction of Benjamin, and I watch the door swing back and forth.
“Little Bird.” I turn and look at my mother. “I don’t know what has happened—but you’re a good man and you can mendanything.” Her eyes hold so much love and faith that it’s suffocating.
“Yeah—thanks, Mom.”
???
The night breeze caresses my face as I walk through the backyard—avoiding sprinkler heads and hoses. My vision blurs a bit when I focus too hard and every step feels a bit sluggish and heavy. I spent the entire party trying to forget the past twenty-four hours. Everything came crashing down around me so quickly—I don’t even know where it fell or how the avalanche started.
Oh, Button. Please don’t hate me. Hecan’thate me. I kick one of our decorative rocks that sit around one side of the pool and immediately regret it. Everyone inside is asleep—it’s a little after one in the morning—so I muffle my yelp with my palm. If my parents find out I walked home instead of staying at Erick’s—or that Amber was never there in the first place—they’ll be pissed. So, I’ll need to crash in the pool house until morning, then I can walk in as if I’m just now getting here. I’m fucking brilliant.
The pool house is about the size of a single room with an added-on bathroom at the back. Shelves line the room—full of pool supplies and chemicals. It’s mostly just the pool cleaners that come in here unless we need to grab a floaty or two, so it’s pretty untouched. The bathroom at the back has a toilet, a sink and a simple showerhead over a tiled floor with a drain under it. No curtains or rods as it’s only used to rinse off chlorine if needed. So, all in all—it’s perfect for a secret drunken sleep on a floaty. I slip in and look around the room, browsing the shelves. It takes me a ridiculous amount of time to realize that the bathroom light is on, the door closed. What the hell?
I approach slowly, unsure if I’ll find a squatter or a family member ready to bust me. Either way—I’m pissed. I turn the handle and, as soundlessly as possible, open the door about two inches so I can peer through. I feel the blood in my facedrain at what is happening before me. I begin to register the sound of the shower running and the soft sighing only after I see it.
Leaning against the tiled wall under the showerhead is a completely nude Benjamin. His shoulders rested against the tile—his hips pushed forward in the air in front of him. His chin is tucked, one hand splayed on his stomach, the other wrapped around his hard cock—roughly pumping up and down. He sighs again, the water running over his closed eyes and bouncing off of his skin, his hair plastered to his face.
I must be dreaming. Someone might have spiked my drink. There is no way I am standing in my pool house in the middle of the night watching Benjamin come undone as he jerks himself off. He runs his thumb over his slit and whines softly. I stifle a groan—palming my hard dick over my jeans to relieve some pressure.
The hand that was splayed over his stomach moves up teasingly before he rolls a nipple between two fingers, gasping at the sensation—his hips jerking forward in search for more. Yep—I can’t do this. Either I walk away right now and live with this torturous memory for the rest of my miserable life—or I walk in and make him come with my own two hands. Touch him like I want to. This decision is a difficult one to make—but yet a very obvious one. I’m starving for him.
I slowly push the door open enough for me to slip in. Benjamin is so enthralled with his pleasure that he doesn’t notice me at first—the water flowing over his head drowning out any small noise I may make. The room is thick with steam. I walk toward him slowly, watching his head fall back against the shower wall, a moan falling from his lips as his hips snap forward again—his other hand moving to torture his untouched nipple. My pulse is audible at this point.
“Button.” I say as calmly as possible once I’m a few feet away and his eyes shoot open. His head snaps down and his mouth falls open.
“W-w-what?! What are you doing here?! How long have you been here?” He’s taking shallow, panicked breaths—lookingbehind me as if I’d let someone else in here to see him like this. His hand falls away from his dick, and he stands awkwardly in front of me.
“Just a few minutes ago. I walked home and was going to sleep in here.” He stares at me, mouth still hung open. Then, he sets said mouth into a hard line and narrows his eyes, standing straight.
“Okay. Then please hand me the towel hanging behind you so I can leave you to it. I won’t tell Tina I saw you or anything.” He’s still upset with me. I see the water drip off his eyelashes—the shower still running. He seems to have forgotten it’s on and I can’t give him a towel when he’s standing under the water. Taking a deep breath, I take a step forward. He flinches.
“Button, why are you mad at me?” His eyes widen and he stammers for a second before recollecting himself and leveling me with a glare.
“Is this really the time, Aaron? Plus—I’m not mad at you. I’m… I don’t know. Please hand me the towel.” I hate it when he says my name like that. So harshly—like it means nothing, like it’s a weapon and hearing it is meant to hurt.
Well, mission accomplished, Benny!
I take another step forward and this time he physically backs up a step—now pressed against the tile—the water only raining onto the front half of his body.
“Please.” I say, except it feels like I’m pleading. “Stop looking at me like this. And stop avoiding me. Stop being so disappointed in me.” I take another step—now only a foot away from the water—two steps from him. His face softens, his eyes confused and sad as he looks up at me.
“Disappointed? Aaron—I’ve never been disappointed in you.” A breath I didn’t know I was holding tumbles out of me—and on a shaky breath I step into the water—only a step away from being pressed right against him. My clothes darken as they collect water, my hair sticking to my skin. The water doesn’t obstruct my view; it is nothing compared to the alcohol I’ve already consumed.
“Then what? What is it, Benjamin? What did I do?” Almost as if in reflex, his hand shoots out to touch me—to comfort me—but he stops short and drops it to his side. He looks away.
