Frantically washing dishes in stained joggers and a T-shirt with a hole where they ripped the tag out of it, Blake glares at me over their shoulder. “It’s the principle. I should be able to have my parents visit me without feeling an overwhelming sense of shame.”
It takes everything in me not to laugh at their stress; Blake seems to thrive in it. For someone so structured and driven on the surface, they are a complete slob who procrastinates whenever they can get away with it. Instead of teasing them for their dramatics, I simply kiss their shoulder and smack their ass on my way to the overflowing trash bin to make myself useful.
“Wait!” Blake says, their green eyes wide and frantic. “I don’t have all the garbage in there yet.”
I glance down at the heap of trash that’s already going to be a bitch to tie shut. “There’s no room for more.”
“But I can’t take the garbage out yet. Not until it’s all bagged up.”
I press my lips together and busy myself with tying up the bag anyway, but Blake catches my shoulders shaking.
“Stop laughing at me!” Blake huffs. But when I glance up, they’re fighting a smile.
“I’m not laughing atyou,” I insist, pulling the bag out of the bin. “I am laughing at all these damn rules you follow that don’t make a lick of sense.”
“It makes perfect sense!” Blake flicks water at me. “I can do it all in one trip!”
“Okay, but this shit is overflowing, so I’m gonna take it out now. And then you can take it out again when you get the rest of it together.” I slide my feet into my platform shoes by the door. From the sink, Blake glares at me. I stare back at them, a little too long. Pink creeps into their pale face, and they straighten their back ever so slightly. Those green eyes that caught my attention two years ago widen, and my chest warms with just how fucking precious this nerd is. “We have an hour before we have to leave. If you’re good and get everything all cleaned up, and if we have time, I’ll make you come before we leave.”
“Eris!” Blake’s face flushes deeper. “Stop distracting me!”
That wasn’t a no. I smirk as I haul the trash into the hallway. “Dishes, Bambi!”
By the time I’m back from the alley behind Blake’s building, the dishes are in a haphazard pile to dry, and Blake is scrubbing the countertop with all their might. Their ass and thighs jiggle in their joggers with the force of their elbow grease, and I melt, imagining kneeling behind them with my face buried between those perfect, round cheeks. For a nerd who spends most of their days curled up over their laptop like a shrimp, Blake Ryan has the best ass.
“You saideverythinghad to be clean first,” Blake reminds me when I tease the waistline of their joggers.
“Did I?” I wrap my arms around them, kissing their shoulder. “I lied. I just meant the dishes.” Blake laughs, then goes quiet in my arms, fussing with a crusty spot on the counter. Very unlike their usual, eager, freaky self. I frown. Normally, they’re begging for me to touch them within seconds at the mere suggestion of sex. “What’s wrong?”
“Can we…” Blake sighs, and the sound makes dread pool in the pit in my stomach. “Can we raincheck the orgasm until after dinner?”
Is that all? Relived, I nod into their neck. “Of course,” I squeeze them tight once more, then give them some space, backing away to lean against the counter next to them. Blake pouts, but doesn’t look at me. I hate how my first thought is always that they’re about to break up with me. It’s only been a month, but every day has been a dream, and Blake already wants me to meet their parents. Everything should be happy. I hate this sense of constant dread hanging over me; it’s bad enough that I’m considering going to therapy again. “Everything okay?”
“I’m nervous,” Blake admits, tossing the sponge in the sink to wash their hands.
“You’renervous?” I tease, fussing with a wrinkle in my skirt. “I’m about to meet your parents. I’m not exactly who you’d bring home to convince them you’re doing okay, remember?” With a whine, Blake cringes, and I regret bringing that up. “Sorry, that was supposed to be a lighthearted joke.”
Blake groans as they dry their hands on the towel. “I was such a dick to you. I’m sorry. I should never have said that.”
“Bambi, I thought it was funny. Then and now. You’re so fucking rude sometimes, it’s hilarious. Besides, it’s not untrue.” I catch their hands before they find some other mess to tidy up, rubbing circles into their palms. I don’t know what it says about me that I’m more confident that Blake actually likes me when they insult me, but I never want them to stop. “It’s going to be okay. Matt and Allie will be there, right? And your parents seem chill, from everything you’ve told me. Everything will be okay.”
“I’m not nervous about them meeting you, Eris,” Blake mutters. They give another one of those sighs that hit me right in the insecurity, but they lean their head against mine. The tension leaks out of them with each press of my thumbs into their palms. A twinge of pain makes my right wrist ache, but I keep massaging their hand until Blake is limp and relaxed against me. “I just haven’t told them that I’m staying in Chicagonow that I’ve graduated, or about my job that fucking starts on Monday! I haven’t told them I’m starting T. I haven’t told them we’ve only been dating one month, instead of four.” Forehead still pressed to my temple, they shake their head, whispering, “I’m nervous that I’ll disappoint them. I’ve been keeping so much from them.”
“You think they’ll be disappointed? Inyou? Bambi, you graduated from law school, passed the bar—” I press my lips to Blake’s when they start to interrupt me; I already know they won’t get their results for months. We’ve had this conversation six times, but I don’t need the official results to know they passed. I kiss away the argument that they don’t need to start until Blake once again relaxes against me, wrapping their arms around my shoulders. “And you got hired by your dream law firm months before you graduated. You really think that they’ll be disappointed that you’re such an uptight, nerdy ass overachiever? Because a month ago, you bagged a total baddie. So even your romance and social life isn’t nearly as pathetic as it was.”
“Shut up,” Blake mutters, but they’re smiling.
“They love you, and they want you to be happy. Right? And you hope that this job will make you happy?” Blake nods, closing their eyes as I rub their back. “And starting T?” Another nod from them. I swallow. The pit of my stomach aches again, but I force myself to ask, “Staying here? Will that make you happy?”
Eyes snapping open, Blake glares at me. It’s so fucking sweet, those big green eyes narrowed in annoyance. Their long nose, all scrunched up, brushes mine. I adore that I’m the one who gets to see their grumpy face so often, because they are always so careful about concealing what a snarky ass bitch they are from everyone. Except me. I get to see every single version of Blake they think they need to hide. Each glare is an honor to witness. Each weird vocal stim is a treasure I cherish. With no question orhesitation, I get to see the lazy slob and anxious wreck they don’t want their parents, friends, or strangers to see.
“What?” I finally ask after staring into Blake’s narrowed eyes for longer than they probably want, but it’s taking everything not to kiss them right now.
“I’m not dignifying that with a response.”
“I dunno, Bambi, you’re trying to murder me with your eyes right now. It might be a no—”
This time, Blake shutsmeup with a kiss. It’s mean and demanding, their lips hard against mine. Like I kissed the fight out of them earlier, Blake’s kiss is full of reassurance, and the hollow of insecurity eases.
