The Life of Genghis Khan, one of the books on the coffee table is simply titled, withThe House of Romanovright beneath it.
He’s a history nerd, I realize.
Cool.
When I turn into the small kitchen, Joey is dumping two cartons of leftover food into a small tray, which he quickly tosses into the oven. It looks like peanut butter noodles with chicken and greens, maybe from a Thai restaurant. He doesn’t make eye contact with me as he turns back to the fridge. “Haven’t had a chance to make it to the grocery store this week,” he says, apologetically, like he wishes he could feed me better or something.
“That looks great,” I say quickly, then let out a soft laugh. “I love noodles!”
I slap my palm to my forehead and scold my noodle-loving ass to act cool for once in my damn life.
Joey turns from the fridge with a snort, then hands me a can of beer before opening one himself. “Yeah, me too. You, uh, need anything else? To be comfortable, I mean.”
There’s that warmth behind my ribs again. He’s being incredibly sweet, not to mention generous. And even though it’s like a cloud came over his face the second he invited me upstairs, his actions seem so much louder than his furrowed expression.
“I’m great,” I say, then take a sip of the beer. “I guess I’ll just keep an eye on the weather and sneak out when I can.”
Joey’s jaw clicks to the side, and then he nods. “Sure. You want to chill on the couch until then? It’ll take a minute for the food to warm up.”
We head over to the couch, and I can’t tell if there really is this intense energy humming between us, or if it’s just me projecting my emotions all over Joey.
Getting stabbed by a needle over and over definitely makes me high and loopy in a way I didn’t expect. After that long session, maybe that’s why I feel so obsessed with him, and why I’m standing here trying desperately to read the mystery in his eyes.
I’m just strangely certain that there’s something more there, something I need to understand. He’s been a mystery, but being here in his home is my chance to finally learn something about the guy, and I might not get another shot.
I cross my legs at the ankle and lean back against the couch. “So you’re a history buff?” I say, nodding toward the books. “I love that. I always wanted to take more history classes, but I never had the space in my schedule. You must know so much about the world.”
Joey’s brows arch, lifting like he’s alarmed. He takes another drink from his beer, then shakes his head. “No, I didn’t go to college back in Milwaukee,” he says like he’s correcting me. “Reading is just something to keep my brain busy.”
“I didn’t mean—” I cut myself off, then try again. “Have you read anything good lately?”
“Just another book about ships,” he says, and half of his mouth turns up in an awkward smile. He’s a little shy about it, I realize, and that tugs at my heart. I wouldn’t have imagined Joey was shy about anything, but he waves his hand at the books, dismissing them. “You’re, uh, almost done with school?” he asks.
I laugh softly. “Three more very busy years of research. But I’m getting a PhD, which means I might spend the rest of my life in schools, actually.” He frowns when I say that, and another warm laugh escapes before I can catch it. I love learning, but I’m sympathetic to how a lot of people have less than ideal experiences in school. “I’ll be happiest if I’m working at a botanical garden somewhere,” I tell him. “That’s the dream.”
Joey looks impressed by that, although I’m not sure why. “Cool.”
We look at each other, and I’m hit with the desire to touch him and, even more, for him to touch me. I want his hands all over me again, and I want to lose myself totally into the experience, disappearing into a babbling mess of pure sensation.
My cock gets hard, straining against denim, and I shift my weight to hide it from him. “Yeah,” I say, then smile as I curl my knees up against my chest. “I think it’s cool, at least.”
Joey’s looking at me like he’s listening, and since I don’t know what else to do, I keep going. “It’s not like the science world is perfect or anything. Everyone’s stuffy, and a lot of people are competitive and self-interested. Not to mention how unfriendly it can be to anyone who isn’t a straight white man. But I like learning and research, so I keep a smile on my face and focus on the good stuff. Plus, I get to work with what I love the most, which is flowers.” My eyes dart down to my arm. “Obviously,” I say with a laugh.
I look to Joey, hoping he’ll pick up the conversation, and that I’m not stuck with either babbling or silence as my only options while the snow falls. His jaw tightens again, and it looks like he’s wrestling through something in his head and maybe going to talk. After a drink of his beer, though, he just stands. “You need a water,” he says, and goes to the kitchen.
I look down at myself. Do I look thirsty?
When Joey returns, he shoves a gigantic glass of water my way. “Shouldn’t have just given you a beer. You need to hydrate after that long session. Sorry about that.”
The warm tingling feeling behind my ribs glows again, prickling through the rest of my body. “Thanks,” I say, then take a big gulp of the water, and then another.
It’s not like I don’t have anyone to take care of me. My friends all take care of each other, so I always have someone there when I’m sick or going through a hard time.
But having Joey take care of me, it feels totally different, and the more I get of it, the more I crave it.
Even if I am projecting onto an unavailable man, the hormones and warm tingles rushing through me are very real, and very nice.
“Food should be ready soon,” he says, still standing. “You want to watch a movie or something?”
