He nods his agreement and I grin, giving him another kiss on the forehead because that’s the only part of him I can reach and my lips want to be on him. He shuffles on the couch, sitting up and stretching as he reaches for his now cold coffee. He takes a sip, makes a face, then takes another sip like somehow it had gotten warmer over the last few seconds.
“It’s shitty, but I do have to go get ready. I can be home in a couple of hours, though, if all goes well.”
“Don’t worry, Donovan,” he murmurs, turning to ease my nerves this time. “I’ll be here when you get home.”
“I like that,” I offer with a grin. “Home.”
He nods, the tangled snarl of curls bobbing on his head, face as pale as a ghost and a small dribble of coffee on his shirt.
I have never seen anything quite as beautiful.
Practice seems to drag on forever today, and by the time I get back to my apartment, I can feel a slight worry building in me that when I open the door, the place will be empty. I take the stairs two at a time, rushing to my door and throwing it open sohard that it bangs into the wall behind it, rattling the small table that sits beside it.
“Holy shit,” Shiloh gasps, his head popping up over the side of the couch, his eyes wide and terrified.
I, on the other hand, am absolutely relieved to see him. My heart rate slows and I offer a sheepish smile. “Sorry. Hi.”
Shiloh yawns, rising from the couch and coming to the entryway while I kick off my shoes and place my backpack down. He stands there, hands at his sides, eyeing me like he’s uncertain how to greet me, and I can feel the awkwardness of the early morning creeping back in, but I can’t let it.
I hang up my coat and turn to him, extending my hand. Shiloh carefully places his fingers in mine and I grin, pulling him into my arms as he squawks in surprise. I wrap myself around him, inhaling the scent of his hair that isn’t his usual citrus. He smells like me, and I smile even wider knowing that he chilled out enough today to have a shower. I’m slightly surprised when, over the top of his head, I catch the sight of Godzilla destroying buildings on the TV screen.
“Still watching Godzilla?” I ask, like I can’t see with my own two eyes.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice muffled by the hug I’ve captured him in. He tilts his head up, offering a shrug. “They’re terrible.”
“I’m going to forget you just said that, okay?”
He laughs, and I can’t help but lean down to press my lips against his cheek, his forehead, his lips. Just for a brief moment, I linger here with him in my arms, my lips peppering kisses over his face, dotting them with invisible marks like freckles on his pale cheeks.
Pale and sunken in actually. I reach up with one hand, running my knuckles down his sallow cheeks, frowning as I look into his weary eyes. There’s a wall threatening to come up, buthe looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks and the urge to feed him is rising inside me.
“Hungry?” I ask, loosening my grip on him slightly.
“Yeah,” he admits with a nod. “I’m starving actually.”
“I have food, you know. You’re welcome to help yourself anytime, Shiloh.”
“I didn’t think about it until now, I guess.”
I run my fingers down his cheek once more before letting him go and turning away to wander into the kitchen. I open the pantry and take stock of all of the stuff I have on the shelves to see what I can whip up for us quickly. He’s lucky he’s hit me on a week where I actually went shopping and filled the cabinets with more than just the canned beans I always buy but never seem to eat. “What interests you? I can do pancakes. Eggs. Bacon…. um… I also have just cereal and milk… Oh. Soup. I can do soup and grilled cheese?”
“I don’t know.” I glance back and Shiloh is peering around me into the cabinet, eyes darting around the boxes and cans like being made to pick one is hard.
“Do you want macaroni and cheese?” I ask, softening my tone as I pull two boxes from the pantry.
Shiloh stares at them for a few moments like he’s worried they may come to life and attack him, but finally he nods. I lean over and place a kiss on his cheek before grabbing the biggest pot from the cupboard beside the stove and filling it with water, placing it on the burner to boil. He’s lucky I’m a champion of mac and cheese, having eaten many boxes of it during my lifetime. When I was younger, it was a common supper in my house because it was fast, cheap, and easy for my mom to make before she’d have to head off for a shift at one of her jobs. It may not be the same for him, since it’s not his mom making it, but I’m sure gonna damn well try to make it the best mac and cheese I’ve ever made.
As I cook, Shiloh wanders back to the living room and settles on the couch, eyes glued to the TV again. While the water heats up, I grab my phone, and I’m about to shoot a text to Oakley when a message comes through on Instagram that makes my irritation rise. It’s a different nameless account, but it has to be from the same person as before. I shouldn’t open it, but I do anyway to find a message that is absolutely a threat.
I will get what I want, Myers.
You can’t stop me.
I growl as I consider Kyle Penton and the message he refuses to understand. I’ve done what he wants and brought Oakley to him in the only way Oak wants to be seen by him. Not my fault he’s a creep. I sigh and put my phone away, debating shutting down my social media entirely. Krystal will have a meltdown, but it’s gotta be better than these messages coming at me and shaking up whatever calm I’m trying to collect for myself.
The water boils and the noodles cook in no time at all as I move around the kitchen, stirring the sauce packets into milk and butter with a whisk like I’m Gordon fucking Ramsey making the fanciest meal in the world. I can feel Shiloh watching me as I make our food like he can’t wait for it to be done, but when I finally place his bowl of steaming hot macaroni and cheese from a box in front of him, he hesitates.
He takes a deep breath, then leans over the steam, inhaling the smell of the dish into his nose and holding it there for a few seconds before letting it go.
