“You smell so bad. Why do you smell so bad?” he asks, pinching his nose and making his voice go all squeaky. “You are too hot to smell this bad. Go shower immediately, we have places to be today.” He surprises me by smacking my ass and herding me to the bathroom like an unruly child.
“Fine. I’ll shower and you make some breakfast. Maybe lay off the coffee, though. You look pretty wired.” I’m taking note of the way his body is bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’s barely able to stand still.
“I will make toast and you will eat it in the car. Like I said, we have places to be. Now, chop chop!” He claps his hands to emphasize his words, then turns on his heels and heads out of the bathroom, leaving me to shower in peace. Although I do not put it past him to bust in here if I’m not out as quickly as humanly possible. Flipping on the shower to heat up, I strip off my clothes and get to work. I’ll unpack the warm feeling it gave me when he said “we” later.
The second we pull up to the center, Jordan is out of the passenger seat and running inside, leaving me to find a parking space. When I finally enter the building, my eyes scan the room to find Blake and Jordan sitting on a small couch in the reception area. I throw a wave to Derek and head in their direction, but I barely get three steps before Blake is launching himself into my arms and hugging me so tight I damn near cry. Patting his back, I hold him firmly, wanting him to know that I will never turn away a hug.
“Good to see you, kid. Are you doing okay? Get to sleep alright?” I pull him gently back a few steps so I can look over him for any signs of injuries, or even so much as a hole in his shirt. I’m astounded at the change in him in such a short time. Part of me wonders if this is an act of some kind. My face must display my concerns, because Blake touches my forearm in a soothing gesture.
“I’m fine, Eric. I promise. I want to thank you so much for what you did for me. You saved me. Both of you.” He gestures earnestly to Jordan, who is watching us closely. “This shelter is amazing. Derek set it up so that Lucas, Jerome and I could have a sleepover together in the rec room for my first night, so I didn't need to be afraid. Roman and his husband Carter stayed too. Do you know him? He’s a tattoo artist, crazy talented. He’s going to give me some lessons.”
Blake is talking a hundred miles a minute. His face is so animated and his arms are flailing all over the place. How is this the same kid that I met last night? Is that really all it took for him to let down his walls? Somebody to simply show him kindness? That must have been some sleepover.
I see Jordan beaming at us from over Blake’s shoulder. His hands are clasped in front of his face like he’s thanking a higher power. Bringing my attention back to Blake, my smile now mirrors his because he's gushing about Roman and Carter’s dog, Hulk. It’s like all the fear and pain I saw in his eyes last night has been chased away. I have no doubt it will catch up with him at some point. Unfortunately, trauma like he suffered rarely stays away for long, but that's okay. The people here at this center are trained to help support him, and he will always have Jordan and me.
Semi-adopting a teenager was definitely not on my bucket list, but here we are. I guess getting the feels for my fuckbuddy wasn’t really on the agenda, either, yet I recognise that I’m on a trajectory straight for disaster and some bastard has cut the brakes.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I realize Blake is still standing in front of me, hands in his pockets and shifting from foot to foot like he has somewhere to be. I’m going to guess he wants to hang out with his new friends. Part of me wonders if this kid has ever experienced this kind of excitement—feeling like you are going to just burst out of your skin at any moment, pure unadulterated happiness. Not wanting to hold him back any longer, I get down to business.
“I’m so happy for you, kid. Those guys seem really cool. And who knows, maybe you will get the drawing bug, then one day you can even tattoo me. I tell you what—I promise if you do, I’ll be your first official client.” I tap his shoulder and give it a squeeze before continuing. “Now, I know we just met, and last night was some serious shit. You probably want to just hang out with your friends and chill, but we need to get a few things cleared up. The main one being getting a restraining order, effective immediately. If I come back later today or even tomorrow, are you willing to sit down with me and make a statement?”
I ask my question carefully, because no matter what I think, this is still Blake's family and I don’t want to push him into something he may not want to do. I watch him closely and I can almost see the cogs turning in his mind. Not lifting his eyes from his scuffed-up Converse means I can’t get a read on his thoughts. All I can do is wait; give him the time he needs to process this. It really is a big decision.
Restraining orders may seem like just a piece of paper, something that’s hardly going to stop somebody who is determined to hurt you. Most people don’t seem to realize that if that person so much as tries to get close to you or contact you in any way—even through someone else—-one call to the cops and they are arrested. It can be enough to scare people into giving up the harassment. Hopefully Blake feels safe enough here that a restraining order will just give him an added piece of armor.
“You think about it, okay? If you have any questions or just want to talk this through. you can call me any time.”
My words seem to settle him. His whole body relaxes and he nods, already starting to back away. “I’ll call you later. I wanna think about it before I do anything permanent. Ummm… I gotta go. but thank you again, Eric. For everything.”
And just like that, he's rushing off toward the rec room, only pausing to give Jordan another quick hug on the way. I couldn’t help but notice the smile on Blake’s face. Being around kids his age—kids who are just like him, who have likely experienced the same shit as he has—is exactly what he needs right now. In this environment, he can see that he’s not any of the nasty things his brother and his buddies called him. He’s free to be himself. No wonder he’s rushing off. It must feel like he's finally about to breathe.
The sound of throat clearing pulls my eyes away from Blake’s retreating form. Jordan is standing next to me now with a knowing smirk on his face. Rolling my eyes, I nod my head toward Derek and a few other members of staff hanging around the reception desk. I know Blake needs things: clothes, books, personal items, but I want to ask if there are any of the other kids here that need stuff. Even if Roman did donate more than half of his restitution money to this place, I doubt they’d turn away necessities like bed linen. Charities like this one are in constant need of basic supplies.
As we approach the desk, the other staff members smile politely and scatter to different areas of the building. “I hope we aren’t interrupting anything, Derek. I just wanted to ask if you have a donation list laying around we could take shopping with us. We’re buying supplies for Blake and I thought we could grab some extras.” I look down when I feel Jordan nipping at the skin between my thumb and forefinger with his acrylic-tipped nails.
“Can you be more of an asshole, please? This sweetness is killing me,”
“Sorry, Lashes. No can do. I’m awesome—surprised you haven’t realized that by now.”
Derek interrupts our banter, handing me a piece of paper while his eyes dart between Jordan and me. “I didn’t realize you two were a thing. What is it the kids do with the names? Jordan and Eric…Joric.That's kind of epic. Joric Forever!”
As a knowing smile lights up Derek’s face, it suddenly hits me that we haven’t been very stealthy the last two days. Roman was in Jordan’s apartment late at night and I was there. Now we’re here first thing in the morning.Together. It doesn’t take a genius to work out something is going on between us. Not that I care who knows. It’s nobody’s business who I fuck, but I’m mindful of the fact Jordan wanted to keep this private. Looking down at him again, I can see he has come to the same realization and looks like he’s about to throw up. Damn, apparently being shipped with me is nausea-inducing. Good to know.
Quickly shaking my head, I take the list and shove it into my jacket pocket. “Unfortunately not, my friend. Jordan is just a pain-in-the-ass employee. Although I can’t even be mad at him. I’m glad I was there to help Blake and I’m glad to be here now.” I knock on the desk, then turn to walk out. “Have a great day. I’ll be back tomorrow unless Blake calls before then.”
Making my exit before Jordan is the best move right now. I mean, I arrived after him and now I’m leaving before him. For all they know, we came here separately. It’s a weak defense, but it’s all I've got. Hopefully we can put out this fire before it reaches Jordan’s friends and family.
CHAPTER 13
Jordan
I love shopping just as much as the next gay man, but Jesus Christ, my arms are actually aching from carrying what feels like five thousand tonnes of clothes and blankets. Eric was adamant that we buy every single thing on Derek's list in multiples. I just left him to it and concentrated on what Blake is going to need. First thing I do is replenish his make-up products with some high-end things from Sephora, then I work on some outfits for him. I’m not sure how comfortable he is wearing typically feminine things, so I get him a mix of both. Some typical teenage black jeans, and then some bright shirts to go with them. Even threw in a crop top just in case he wants to try pushing his own boundaries. I’ll make sure he knows that he is always welcome to come raid my wardrobe.
Isn’t it funny how a few days ago I never knew this boy existed, yet now I’m stuffing bags and bags of personal shopping for him into the back of Eric's Audi—which, by the way, is not conducive to a major shopping trip. We even bickered in the store like an old married couple, and fuck me… I didn’t hate it. I watched him stuff his cart with thirty or more fluffy blankets, then head off to get pillows before completely wiping out the store’s stocks of deodorant.
He had his usual look of deep concentration on his face as we wove through the aisle. Even though I’m used to seeing that look at the office, I can tell that he only gets those deep wrinkles in his forehead when he’s trying to perfect something. And the fact that this ‘something’ is a donation to a shelter is causing some weird reaction inside me. Add to this how I’ve virtually adopted a teenager, and I’m almost freaking out at the strange sensations coursing through my body.
I bet this is what the Grinch felt like when that little Windy Woo girl doubled his heart and made him feel shit. I don’t like this at all. I do not want to have warm and fuzzies, so Eric needs to do the decent thing here and just turn into an asshole again.
