He was familiar. He was terrifying, yet at the same time, I couldn’t stop looking at those lips. Wondering how they felt against mine, because earlier I had been too shocked to take it in.
He’d kissed me.
I hadn’t minded. I hadn’t minded at all. I didn’t want to think about what that meant and what it made me. What I was doing here and how to make it stop.
Did I want to?
“Your turn.” He smiled.
Oh.
The neurons in my brain should have been cross-firing like crazy, blinding me with confusion. Yet they didn’t. My mind was crystal clear. Absolutely blank yet…sharp as ice.
I needed this. I wanted it. Couldn’t say it out loud if my life depended on it, and definitely couldn’t stop myself from giving him what he’d asked for.
My turn. Oh for heaven’s sake. I wanted to roll my eyes. I wanted to laugh it off. I did neither. Instead I put my knuckle under his chin and lifted it up. Then I leant in. Left the tiniest of kisses on his lips. I pulled back before I could fully commit. Before he made me do things I could never undo.
“Good enough,” he whispered.
Then he curled up around me as I tugged the duvet up under his chin.
Like this was normal.
Nothing was normal. I wondered if it would ever be again.
Chapter 20
Oliver
How I had slept so well was slightly worrying, like I’d taken a good hit and it had actually done what the hype had promised. I’d somehow relaxed enough to sleep.
I’d missed this thing I had with him. Peter. Having him close and with me, and to be honest? Not much had changed. He was still a little weird and scatty, but then once in a while, the real him would shine through. Calm. Happy. Smiling. Looking at me like… It still set me off. My heart racing like crazy from just a glance over his shoulder. A small smile. Just like it was right now. Having another body next to mine in the morning usually brought me out in a wild panic. Well, another body had definitely shared the bed here, the sheets still warm as I moved my arm, reaching out for him. Peter. My Peter. The bed was empty, yet there was no need to panic, judging by the clattering in the kitchen.
I hadn’t panicked yesterday. At all, which was a win in my book. I’d achieved…
There was a small bit of pride brewing somewhere inside of me. I was actually starting to fix things. Keep my behaviour in check. Treat people well. Be a decent human being. Eat vegetables. Frozen peas definitely counted. And…Peter. I had no doubts here.
I needed him. My hands on his skin. A morning kiss alongside a nice cup of tea.
Fuck. Voices. Someone was out there, and there was Peter’s, trying to shush someone, and now I was…panicking. Just a bit. Because this was not the way things were supposed to go. And now I was walking straight into something because I had no sense to calm down and figure out how to deal with things like…this.
Peter. Standing over by the sink in his dressing gown. Someone else standing right in front of me. Tall. Wild blond hair. A hooped earring dangling from his ear. Jeans. A hoodie.
Normal. Nothing here was suddenly normal.
“Dad, he’s wearing my shirt. I’ve been looking for it everywhere.”
And now Peter was staring at me, with a look on his face that frankly?
He was smiling. Then his whole face tightened up like he wasn’t allowed to do just that, and then?
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Morning,” I managed to say, wringing my hands and then wiping them on the T-shirt. “Sorry, man. Just borrowed it.”
Had I? Apparently. What was I wearing again? Boxers. Some T-shirt. Bare legs. Cold feet against a hard floor.
“Was just making the boys some tea,” Peter stuttered out. “This is…”
