Chapter Twenty-Six

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Chapter Twenty-Six

APOV

You’d think that the longer Tyler and I were together that I would get used to him being a great boyfriend.  He wasn’t perfect; he had anger issues and sometimes pouted like a child, or went completely apeshit on a mother who refused to give her child candy in a grocery store.  He pushed until I was so angry I flung food at him, plate and all.  But he was incredibly thoughtful.  And when he fucked up, he admitted he was wrong, and he owned his mistakes.  He never lied to me, and he remembered shit that I didn’t even remember telling him.  Thoughtful like with flowers.  Thoughtful with preserving them, even if it failed miserably.  Thoughtful like buying a DVD and a book and remembering something bittersweet from my childhood that I didn’t even have the words to tell him how much it meant to me. 

So it was with all that in mind that I found myself completely panicking because Aidan had told me less than 24 hours in advance that Tyler’s birthday was tomorrow.  And that had completely slipped my mind.  In all honesty, I think he only told me once, and it was on our first date, and I was more leery and less oh my God long-term relationship than I was now.  If he told me now—I would have made sure I remembered. 

I still felt incredibly bad though because I had a feeling he knew mine.  Even if it was on our first date that he learned it. 

He had a great memory.  I had a history of trying to forget.  I think in there somewhere I probably deserved a break but I still felt bad.  Just one more thing to feel bad for.  Thing was—I was getting frustrated with myself.  The frustration and the annoyance that we were throwing back and forth at each other was because of both of us, but mostly it was me.  And it wasn’t like I felt like that was wrong, I knew myself; I knew what I could and couldn’t do, but I wanted to do things.  I wanted to be able to just jump back into everything physical with him.  And my body was seriously attacking because it wanted it, too.  I just had to figure out how to get my mind to catch up.  I felt bad that my frustration with myself was bleeding over and making him more frustrated.  Because he hadn’t tried to start anything with me since that night; he left it all up to me—and I loved him for it, but then I felt even worse if I tried to start something and wound up having to push him away, or stop.  It felt like I was jerking him around, and I didn’t think he thought that I was, but if I had the thoughts, he did, too. 

I spent my whole life thinking that people were smarter with me, and I realized that when I met Tyler—I thought the same thing.  But we were sort of smart in different ways.  And he never made me feel like I wasn’t.  Now though?  I felt really stupid.  And completely fucked.  How could I come up with a good present in less than a day?  I would have been lucky to come up with one if I had months!  And while Tyler was thoughtful, I don’t think I had that talent.  I didn’t have any experience with being thoughtful.  And I really didn’t think he cared honestly—he wouldn’t expect me to get him anything, but I wasn’t sure what that said, either.  And I didn’t want him to be disappointed. 

“Aidan, I’m fucked!”

“Why?”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I thought you knew!” He paused.  “I was thinking about throwing a party.”

Way to stay focused on my problem, Aidan.  “Do you think he wants that?”  I didn’t think he wanted that.  Not really.  And I wasn’t a birthday expert, but I was pretty sure that the birthday person was the one that decided what they wanted to do—not what Aidan wanted.

“No.  He doesn’t.  He told me he doesn’t.  So that’s why we have to.”

“Why would we if he said he didn’t want one?”

Aidan sighed and looked at me for a minute.  Did he know something I didn’t?  Was that ass-backwards guy code or something?  Was this some other social shit I didn’t know?  No meant no!  “Do you know about Michael?”

“Yeah.”

“And you know how he died?”

“Yeah.”

“And that he did it on his birthday?”

“Yeah.”

“And he was twenty-two.”

“Yeah.”

Aidan made this gesture like There ya go!  Like… what?  I shook my head. “What the fuck are you saying?  He’s suicidal?  And a party will help?”  What. The. Fuck?  It was like we weren’t speaking the same language.

“No!  God, no.  Not anymore.”

“What?”

“Just, no.  I just mean—I think we need to make it a bigger, happy…thing.  Because he’s gonna be fucked up tomorrow.  And I don’t know if he was ever suicidal, but he was a really depressed motherfucker before he met you.  Or not depressed, but just like…like there was no life left there anymore.  You know what I mean?  Like it wasn’t really the Tyler we all knew before.  Caroline was the only thing that kept him here, that kept that little spark of Tyler around.  So I’m glad there are two things that keep him here now.”

That was probably one of the nicest things anyone, besides Tyler, had ever said to me.  And I sort of impulsively hugged Aidan—which he was surprised about, but hugged me back anyway.

When I let go, he smiled gently at me.  “Right, so I think we need to have a party.”

“I really don’t know if that’s a good idea.  What if we make it worse?”

He shrugged. “I think we have to try.  I mean ignoring his birthday isn’t good, either.”

I chewed on my lip.  “Yeah.  I guess.”  Actually, I was kinda sure that Tyler might want to ignore the whole day altogether.  He hadn’t said a word about it.  And if he wanted to celebrate, I figured he probably would have at least hinted to me.  But he hadn’t said anything.

“Yeah, so we should have a little party.  Invite some people.”

“What people?”

Aidan shrugged. “I dunno.  There are other people in the building we party with occasionally.  Could invite them.  Could invite his family, too.”

I thought about that for a few seconds.  “Aidan, I really think you should keep it small.  I don’t think he’s gonna like it if there are a lot of people here.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.  I’ll think about it some more.”

“Yeah, good plan.”  I let a beat pass. “What are you getting him?”

He shrugged. “I dunno.  We usually go half serious, half bullshit.  So I’ll see what comes to mind today while I’m out.”

I nodded.  That was very unhelpful.  And I didn’t want to do half bullshit presents.  

“You?” he asked.

“No fuckin’ clue.”

~ ~ ~  

“Hey,” I said, when he came through the door, backpack flung next to his bike where it’d probably stay until he had class again in the fall.  I wasn’t sure why he took it with him to work—probably just to cart shit back and forth.  I don’t think I’d ever actually seen him open it.  I was in the kitchen, making dinner, and it struck me how oddly domestic we’d become and we weren’t even having sex.  I wasn’t sure if that was normal or not. 

“Hey,” he said back, quietly, kind of sighing it.  But was the sigh because he was unhappy about the birthday, or because I hadn’t acknowledged it? 

“How was work?”

“Boring.”

“You hungry?”

“Starving.”  He seemed slightly more upbeat at the idea of food. 

“I made lasagna.  It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“God, that sounds really good.”  He came up behind me, hands inching towards my stomach to rest there.  I liked that he did that a lot.  It was comfortable now.  Natural. 

“I do have bad news though.”

He sighed behind me, his forehead dropping to the top of my head.  “I don’t want bad news.  Lie to me instead.”

I thought a minute.  “Ok… I…don’t have to have to work tonight?”  I was only half-lying—because I had to work, but not as many hours as I was gonna tell him.  I needed some kind of window for finding a fucking present.  

He chuckled in my hair, the puff of breath from the laugh moving my hair and making goosebumps spread all over my neck and arms.  “That sucks.”

“But I made you dinner before I have to go,” I offered.  “And I’ll be back really, really late or really, really early.  What time do you work tomorrow?”

“I dunno.  Like, noon, I think.”  He sighed again; this was becoming a thing for tonight.  “Noon until six or something.  I actually have to tell you something, too.”

Oh, shit.  Was he gonna bust me for not remembering his birthday?  Or something else?  My stomach dropped when he said shit like that.  I was too uncertain about myself when he said shit like that.  What if it was really bad?  About us?  About me?  “Yeah?”

“I have this… I gotta go over to my mom’s tomorrow morning for a few hours.  For this…thing.  A family thing.  And I don’t really wanna go, but she’s forcing me and Caroline pulled the crying card if I didn’t come, so… I have to go.”

“Oh.  Ok.  But it’ll be after I get back from work?”

“Yeah, yeah.  Nine or something.  So you might still be sleeping.”

Much better than I thought it might be.  But that meant they were having a birthday thing for him. 

“And…I want you to understand something.  Because… ” He tightened his grip on me.  “I’ve been fighting with myself for the last few days because I want you to come.  But I don’t, too.”

“What does that mean?”  What did that mean?

“It’s not, no—that’s not what I mean.  It’s me.  Or it’s them.  I just… This isn’t coming out at all like I wanted it to.”

I chuckled and turned around, my arms going around his back.  “You’re just ashamed of me.  Is that it?”

I was teasing, but he didn’t realize that at first, “No!  Of course not!  That’s not it at all.  And… ” He saw me smirking and sighed instead.  “I want to take you.  I just kinda don’t want to share you.  I like that you’re the one thing that’s just mine, ya know?”

Aww.  I rested my head on his chest.  His heart was beating steadily, a little fast; his body was warm and his hands were linked, relaxed by my back.  “Yeah, I get it.”

“I’m not ashamed of you,” he said.  “Of you or what you do.  And my family’s not really judgmental; my mom’s a social worker.  I just want to keep you for a little while yet.  Is that ok?”

“Yeah, Tyler that’s fine.”  

He put a little space between us but didn’t let go, and tipped my chin up to look at him.  “You know I’m not ashamed of you, right?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He nodded back. “Ok.”

“So pretty much you won’t be home until after work tomorrow then, right?”  Please say yes—that’d give me almost a whole extra day to plan and figure shit out.

“Yeah.  I’ll probably go to work right from my mom’s.”

“K.  I’ll make you dinner then.”

“That’d be awesome.”

I padded a few hours for me to go shopping before work after we had dinner, and even through dinner, I could tell things were off with him.  I didn’t mention it because he didn’t seem to want me to, and I could tell he was not in a talkative mood.  Still—he didn’t seemed overly depressed—just…thoughtful.  The look he got when he was thinking too much about something.  

~ ~ ~

I basically fumbled my way through two stores before the complete panic set it.  I went to a book store first, and while looking over hundreds if not thousands of titles I didn’t know, I decided that was not a good present idea because I really didn’t know what he wanted to read and me giving him a book wasn’t the same as he giving me one.  He was already well-read, and while I was sure there were books that were special to him or something that interested him that he didn’t have—I really didn’t know what those were and it seemed like kind of an impersonal gift.  I wanted this one to mean more.  I wanted it to say something and I couldn’t find a book that did that.  

I tried a thrift store and flipped through about a bazillion T-shirts, trying to find one that was funny or screamed Tyler should have this, but I eventually decided after I wasted nearly an hour that I thought that was kind of impersonal, too.  It shouldn’t be a funny present; that was Aidan’s job.  I didn’t want something that he could chuckle at.  I wanted something that was serious and said something about us, and no T-shirt was gonna do that.  

Problem was I didn’t know what sort of thing spoke the way I wanted it to.  How the fuck did Tyler do this thoughtful shit?  It was fucking ridiculous how helpless I felt just browsing through a few stores.  Aidan had been no help; Jordan didn’t really know Tyler, and I couldn’t think of anyone else that would be able to help.  I didn’t know any of his other friends, or family, and it was sort of pushing over into desperation.  I had to work in an hour, and while I had most of the day tomorrow to look as well, cutting it that close was already making me nervous.  I was just no good at this shit.  

I wound up wandering into a pawn shop on the way to the club after I basically gave up for the night.  I was mad at myself because I didn’t know immediately what to go out and get for him.  I shuffled around the store, thinking how different an experience this was from the one I usually had in pawn shops around the country.  Ordinarily, I would have been the one hawking something that I either picked up along the way or lifted for cash.  It was different to be on the other side of the fence.  This seemed a lot classier joint than a lot of the ones I had been in, too.  Probably still ran shit out of the back room.  

I stopped at a wide glass display.  It had a variety of different stuff—mostly jewelry, and most of it seemed to be pretty reasonably priced.  

I just didn’t know if jewelry was the answer I was looking for.  Tyler didn’t really wear any jewelry, and I wasn’t going to be buying him a fucking bracelet, or a watch engraved to someone else and pawned when the relationship went south.  A chain with a charm maybe, if something jumped out at me as significant.  

“See something you like?”

Ugh.  Pawn brokers could be really annoying.  I hoped he wasn’t one.  “I dunno.”

“Would you like me to take something out for you?”

I sighed. “I’m not sure yet.”

He chuckled.  “Hard person to shop for?”

I nodded, my eyebrows furrowed as I looked inside the case. “I’m so fucking lost.”

“May I ask who you’re looking for a gift for?”

I hesitated a minute, pulling my gaze up to really look at the dude.  He seemed nice enough, and I thought he was just being professional and helpful, but I wasn’t exactly trusting of strangers.  And certainly not ones that asked me questions about personal shit.  Definitely not in a pawn shop, either.  I was so fucking desperate though, I caved.  “My boyfriend.”  Wow, that seemed odd to say to someone.  I hoped I wasn’t blushing.  I mean, what the fuck was that even?  Of all things to make me embarrassed?  Or not embarrassed even…just…what the fuck?  

“Ah,” he said, smiling gently.  “Anniversary?  Birthday?”

“Birthday.”

“Ok.  And what does your gentleman like?”

“I dunno.  I’m out of ideas, so I thought I’d look around in here.”  

“Jewelry makes a nice gift,” he offered.

“Yeah, but usually it’s for the girl.”

“Not always.”

“I don’t even know if he’d want to wear anything.”

“Does he wear any other jewelry?”

“No.”

“A watch perhaps?”

I snorted. “No.”

He nodded. “Not a watch kind of guy.  A pendant perhaps?  Or a charm?”

“I was thinking about that, yeah.”

He made a tray appear like magic.  “Anything strike you in there?”

I looked over the different pieces, and I mean, there were a lot of nice ones, just nothing that I thought Tyler would like.  “Not really,” I said, shaking my head.  “It needs to mean something.”  Come on, pawn dude—you’re a guy—you should know this shit.

“What should it mean?”

I shrugged, sighing, and getting kind of annoyed.  I didn’t know what it should mean.  I started chewing on my lip.  

“How long have you been together?”

The fuck did that have to do with anything?  I pulled my eyes up to meet his.  “Long enough.”

He smiled. “I’m just trying to get an idea of what might fit.  Is it a casual relationship or something more serious?”

Jesus, fuck, with the personal questions.  I ran my hand through my hair.  “It’s not casual.”

“Hmm.”  He put the tray away with the pendants and searched through the glass with me.  “I’m going to take a wild guess and say cuff links are out.”

I snorted. “Uh, yeah.”

“What about a ring?” he asked.  

I looked at him. “Uh… Do a lot of women come in here and buy rings for guys?”

He nodded. “Of course.”  

“I guess I think that’d be more something a guy would give instead of the other way around.”

He pulled out another tray.  “There are plenty of rings that do not signify an engagement or impending wedding.”

He was smirking when he said that, and I mean, he was being nice, but that kind of pissed me off.  “I know that,” I snapped, but it didn’t really have the snap to it that I wanted.  I looked over the rings.  “Ugh, I dunno.”

“Celtic designs are quite popular now.  And they all have some type of meaning.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like this one for example, is a trinity knot, and signifies things in three—sprit, mind, body, religious significances, power, intellect, love.  Or there are many animals that are used in Celtic pieces that signify something.  The dog, for example, signifies loyalty.  The dolphin, good luck and friendship.”

Well none of that really screamed Tyler.  Wonder if he had any animals that fit wonderful boyfriends with anger issues, and a dislike of birthdays?  He must have noticed my unspoken doubt.  

“Knots are quite popular.  Or Celtic crosses.”

“He’s not really religious.  Where are the knots?  What do they mean?”

“Celtic knots are normally endless—there is no beginning or end, so they represent the connection of things.”  

Hmm.  “Connection is good.”

“But…”

“I dunno.  The knots are nice, I just wanted it to mean something more I guess.”

He looked over the tray.  “What about this one?”  He took one out of the tray and handed it to me.  

“What is it?”

“The griffin and dragon—they symbolize fire and water, the male and female aspects of nature.  They exist together as a whole.  The knots connecting them are thought to represent the journey of life—the cycle that never ends.”

“So, wait, the dragon is the guy?”

“No, the dragon is the female symbol.”

“That’s kinda fucked up.”

“The griffin is actually quite an interesting symbol; part eagle and part lion.  It represents the duality, the balance of both good and bad.  It’s a noble creature, gentle but strong, vigilant, and fair.  In myth, they were the protectors of life.  Because they were so strong, they were often invoked selfishly and in turn could be very vengeful and violent.  As fire is its symbol, it demands respect because it can be somewhat unstable.”

Well.  Sold.  That was basically Tyler in a nutshell.  And mythic shit on top!  Bonus!

But I think he already knew that—if the fucking grin on his face was any indication.  “Should I wrap it for you?”

“Depends.”

His eyebrows went up. “On?”

“Price.”

“Ah.”

This was a pawn shop for fuck’s sake.  Anyone who walked out the door without a haggle didn’t belong in the store.  I could negotiate.  That was no difference no matter which side of the fence you were on.  “So let’s hammer out a deal, here.”

He chuckled. “Usually the sticker price is what we sell things for.  That’s store policy.  And things are already marked well below wholesale value.”

“Bullshit,” I said quickly.  

He cocked an eyebrow at me, but a smirk was firmly in place.  “What kind of a deal are you looking for?”

“I walk unless your number is about 20% less.”

He licked his lips slowly, his tongue darting out in a way that kind of reminded me of a snake, but that was pretty fucking normal for a pawn broker.  They were in this to make money just like everyone else, and I knew he could afford to take what I was offering.  

I shrugged. “It’s a fair deal.”

He took a deep breath, like this was some kind of huge decision for him.  “All right.  But I don’t do this for everyone.”

The minute he turned away I was rolling my eyes, because yeah, dude said that to every mook that walked in this joint.  I didn’t get off the boat yesterday, asshat.  There was a process to the way this shit worked.  I just sped up the process.  

I paid and he wrapped and I was on my way, extremely happy with my find.  I was kind of excited, too.  And also kind of freaking out, because I hoped he liked it.  I spent a lot of the night second-guessing myself and wondering if I shouldn’t just have gone with something like the fucking T-shirt.  Was it too early to be saying something?  Was the ring even saying something?  I kind of wanted some kind of sounding board, but I wasn’t going to get it at work.  Jordan wasn’t working tonight, and it wasn’t like I felt comfortable enough to ask one of the other girls.  Our friendships weren’t like that—they were more just people you knew.  We stuck together of course, but they weren’t really people I could ask.  I seriously debating asking Anatoly in between sets, but I chickened out.  I mean, at least he was married—he had kids—he had to know shit about dating and birthday rules.  It was very annoying.  I wasn’t used to second guessing my decisions.  I made them and took whatever came.  I had to learn to use that here, too.  

I wasn’t sure what I’d find when I got home after work.  I didn’t know if he would be awake or not.  Sometimes he waited up for me, which was completely unnecessary, but he seemed to like it.  Other days he was too tired and I’d find him snoring softly or his arm flung out like he was waiting for me to join him in bed.  He was asleep tonight, and I was happy he was—maybe the birthday wouldn’t go as badly as Aidan originally thought.  

I undressed and threw on some pajamas, putting the little box with his ring in it in the pocket of my bag.  It wasn’t like Tyler ever went through my stuff, but I didn’t know if was going to give it to him in the morning or when he got home after work.  If he snuck out quietly, I’d miss him in the morning and I wanted to be there when he opened it.  

He always left my side of the bed turned down, which I found endlessly adorable, like the bed wasn’t completely ready unless I was in it.  I crawled into bed and settled against his chest, the arm flung out curling around me, and his jaw burrowing into the top of my head.  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly over my hair, mumbling, “Was work?”

I snuggled in closer. “It was fine.  How was yours?”

“Mmmboring.”

I chuckled.  “Maybe tomorrow will be better,” I suggested.

He snuffled. “Not likely.  Night, Allison.”

“Night.”

As we fell asleep, I wondered how long he’d actually keep that up—if he’d let the entire day go by and not say anything at all.  

~ ~ ~

I had a fuzzy memory of him slipping out from under me, and pressing a kiss into my temple.  “I’ll call you later.”

“Mmmkay.”

The next time I heard from him was when he got to work.  Not that I could tell his mood really when he left and I was half asleep, but he hadn’t seemed to be in a shitty mood.  By the time he got to work, that had totally changed.

“Hey,” he said.  I could tell he was smoking.  

“Hi.  How’d it go at your mom’s?”

“Fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Not really.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.  I just didn’t really want to go.”

This was incredibly difficult talking about when I knew what was going on and he didn’t know I knew.  I thought about just caving and asking if it was because they threw some family party, but when he was already moody and sounding down, I thought that’d probably just make the day worse and piss him off.  

“You at work now?”

“Yeah, just got here.  I’ve got a few minutes yet before I have to go in.”

“Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t want to be early,” I teased.

“Right.”

Wow, this conversation was going so well.  

“Are you ok, Tyler?”

He sighed, taking another drag of the cigarette.  I could picture him actually.  Cigarette between his first two fingers of his left hand, thumb scratching over his forehead, right hand holding the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, I just needed to hear a voice of sanity.”

~ ~ ~

“Hey, how’s work going?”

“It’s ok.”

“You feeling any better?”

“The books help.  They’re easy to get lost in.  And no one’s asked me any stupid questions yet, so that’s been good.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, customer service might not be your best talent today.”

“Definitely not.”  He paused. “What are you doing?”

Well, trying to decide the best way to tell you I know it’s been your birthday all day without sending your slightly improved mood back to the shit storm.  “Nothing really.  Hanging out.  I’m gonna go to the grocery store later.  Pick up some stuff for dinner.”

“What’s for dinner?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Mmm.  Not sure I want any more of those today.” He sighed.  

“You sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah, just ignore me.”

I let the silence carry for a minute, wondering if anything would make him sound less miserable and gloomy today.  

“Call me when you’re leaving after work, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Try to have a good rest of the day.”

“Yeah.  Bye.”

“Bye, Tyler.”

I sighed when I hung up.  I had to talk to Aidan.  This party shit was not going to fly.  

~ ~ ~

“Aidan, I don’t think you should throw a party.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s called me a few times and he sounds really depressed.”  

“But shouldn’t we cheer him up then?”

“I think that’ll make it worse.  Or if you want to throw him something, then just have it be us.  I really don’t think he’s going to be happy about a party.”

“Well what kind of party can two fucking people throw?”

“A quiet one.”

“But that’s not even the definition of a party!”

“Call it whatever the fuck you want.  If you call a bunch of people to show up here, I’m calling him and telling him to meet me at my place instead and to not come home.  He doesn’t need this today, Aidan.  I think it was really hard on him with his family.”

He sighed, annoyed.  “Fine.  What kind of party are we having then?  What are we gonna do?”

“I was gonna make him dinner.  Maybe we could just all sit down and have dinner.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.  And if he wants to do something else, we can ask him.  Otherwise, I think the low key way is the way to go.”

“This is bullshit.”

“This is what he needs.”

“He doesn’t know what he needs—that’s the problem.”

I sighed, waving him off.  “You don’t know what he needs, that’s your problem.  I’m gonna go grocery shopping.”

“At least get a fucking cake or something.”  He grumbled to himself.  “Can’t have a fucking birthday without cake.”

I smiled as I turned to walk out.  “You’re a good friend, Aidan.”

“Yeah, no shit!” he called after me.

~ ~ ~

I decided to make him chicken and rice for dinner.  Green beans on the side.  The same meal I first made for him months ago.  I wasn’t sure why I picked that, but it just seemed like a good idea.  Something familiar.  Maybe he needed that today.  If he thought it was stupid, well… He’d eat it anyway.  I debated just buying a cake that was prebaked, but figured I had enough time to make one.  I decided at the last minute before checking out that I’d make pie instead—like a birthday without all the usual recognized shit.  Candles could go in pie just as easily.  

“Did you get a cake?” Aidan asked impatiently, looking through the bags.

“No.”

“No?!  Why not?  I’ll have to go get one now!”

“No, you don’t.  I’m making a pie instead.”

“Pie,” he repeated.

“Yes, pie.  He likes pie.”

“It’s a birthday.  It’s supposed to have cake.”

“I’m sure his family had a cake.  He likes pie.  You can put a fucking candle in pie just as easily.”

“But it’s not cake!”  He argued.

“Just go do something and leave me alone in the kitchen,” I said, pointing.

“You guys are so fucking weird.  I never thought he’d find someone as weird as he is,” he said, walking away in a huff.  For some reason, shit he said like that made me really fucking happy.  

~ ~ ~

We texted through the rest of the day.  I wasn’t sure he was supposed to be doing that at work, but I figured it was worth the risk.  

what section of the store are you in?

authors who’ve slept together and ended up dead or in prison

lol good section?

an interesting one

did they write about sleeping together?

does sexting count as sex?

lol does that section turn you on?

doesn’t everything?

well we’ve already done oral in the closet there, you could try jerking off in that section.  if you get caught, i had nothing to do with it.

but you were encouraging

i suggested—totally different

i’ll just think about you naked the rest of the afternoon instead

play your cards right, maybe you’ll get lucky

how do i play the cards right?  show up at the apartment naked?

might improve your chances

done

call me when you’re leaving or if you need bail money for exposing yourself in public

i will.  i’m putting the phone in my pocket now—feel free to keep texting—i have it on vibrate

i’ll keep you guessing.  don’t get fired.

~ ~ ~

“I’m calling to tell you I’m leaving The Strand—as I was instructed to do.”

I laughed. “Ok.  Thanks for telling me.  You should come straight home, too.  No distracted stopping.”

He snorted. “Yes, ma’am.”

“See you in a while.”

“Bye.”

The second I hung up I yelled to Aidan, “He’s on his way!  Get shit ready!”

It was funny—Aidan was a really lazy person until you gave him a job and you were pressed for time.  Then suddenly, he was a ball of activity, helping me set the table and take food out.  He was actually pretty awesome if he wanted to be.  He just preferred being a dick, I think.  

I left a note taped to the door for him: Get a beer and meet me on the roof.  Aidan’s with me—don’t get naked.  I didn’t notice until later that Aidan had added his own note under mine.  Or get naked—I have a camera—blackmail material for years!

There were no streamers, no banners, no lights off, or a screamed Surprise!  Just Aidan and I, on the roof, sitting on plastic lawn chairs and trying to keep the food warm.  And one rainbow-colored balloon weighted down by a fifth of vodka.  He sort of trudged out of the door.  He looked tired.  And slowed his walk for a few seconds when he saw the balloon, but picked the pace back up when he realized it was only Aidan and me.  

“Aidan did that,” I said, pointing to the balloon, smiling at him as I got up and hugged him.  He set his beer on the table and pulled me close, burying his head in my neck.  “Happy Birthday,” I said quietly, one hand rubbing his back and the other cupping his head.  

“Thank you.”

“Thought I forgot, huh?”

He chuckled, pulling back. “Woulda been fine.”

“No, it wouldn’t have been,” Aidan announced, stepping around the table to pull him into his own hug.  “Happy Birthday, man.  I expect you to share the vodka.”

He laughed and shoved Aidan away. “Fuck you.  The vodka stays here.”

“Sit down,” I said.  “We should eat before it gets cold.”

He recognized the dinner the minute we sat down, and looked over at me.  I knew the second his eyes met mine that he didn’t think it was stupid at all, and I was incredibly proud of myself.  He seemed much less sad already and I knew this was totally a better plan than throwing him into a room full of loud, drunk people.  

I thought dinner went great; and worked even better than I planned.  Tyler really seemed to relax, and he was smiling and laughing and it felt good; it felt good to see him happy.  Especially when the day had been hard for him.  

He laughed at the pie, but was more than happy it wasn’t cake, and was also really happy when I only stuck two candles in it.  Aidan made some huge speech about that being cheating but two for twenty-two worked in my kind of logic, and Tyler was just happy he only had to blow out two candles.  

I hadn’t seen him this happy and open in weeks.  Probably not since my freak out that night.  And it was really great that I had something to do with his happiness here.  

We just finished pie when his phone rang.  And his relatively good mood disappeared instantly.  

He pushed away from the table and truthfully, there wasn’t a lot coming from Tyler’s end.  He spoke in clipped sentences and the tension in his voice was really noticeable.  His voice went up in volume once, and then just went to one word answers.  There was only one person who could make him that way that quickly.  The whole conversation couldn’t have been more than two minutes.  But it was a fucking shitty two minutes.  

He stayed standing away from us for a minute when the call ended and Aidan and I exchanged glances as we tried to figure out what we should do.  He turned before we could come up with anything and walked back to the table.  

“Well, I could use a drink,” he said, tossing his phone on the table and sitting back in the chair heavily.

Neither Aidan nor I said anything.  

“Have a drink with me,” he said, passing the bottle to me.

“I really don’t want a drink, Tyler.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my fucking birthday, and I want everyone to have a drink with me.  Is that too much to ask?  One drink?”

I raised an eyebrow at him but he just stared back at me, his eyes cold and angry.  I splashed some vodka in my glass and slammed the bottle down for Aidan.  Aidan didn’t need to be told twice to have a drink.  He just poured.  “What should we drink to?” he asked, trying to salvage things.

“Oh, I think we should drink to Charles Hawkins, father of the year,” Tyler said bitterly, slamming his back without waiting for us.  It was sort of amazing really, how much power his father had over him—even though Tyler would insist that it wasn’t true.  But he let him have it—he handed it to him every time he let him affect him this way.  Maybe telling him that would make him punch in.  Tonight though, it’d probably just make him worse.  

Aidan cut his eyes to me, raising his eyebrows.  “Yeah, and friendship would be good to drink to.”

Tyler poured more vodka in his glass. “Sure, I’ll drink to that.”  He turned to look at me.  I hadn’t touched my glass yet.  “What do you want to drink to?”

I had several things I wanted to say to that.  Pricks that won’t let the past go.  Boyfriends that are moody motherfuckers.  Most were insensitive, and I tried to remind myself that he was having a hard time today and his father calling hadn’t helped that any.  If only he’d called before we started having a good time.  “I’d like to drink to you coming downstairs with me.”

“What are we gonna do downstairs?”

“Whatever you want.  But the vodka stays here.  I don’t want to party with Tyler and vodka.”  So there he had his choice: company or himself and the alcohol.  Aidan would probably have stayed with him and alcohol, so it was more girlfriend company or Aidan and alcohol.  

He watched me, like this was some kind of contest, so I tipped my glass back and put it back on the table.  “If you’re coming downstairs, can you clean up, Aidan?”

“What?”  Aidan shook his head, looking at me but gesturing at Tyler.  “I told you we should have just got him wasted!  He was happy drinking.  And that’s it?  That’s the end of the party?  What a jip!  And I’m stuck cleaning up!?”

I threw Aidan a dirty look and he sighed, waving at me.  “Yeah, fine, I’ll clean up.”  He kept muttering to himself, but ultimately he was a good guy—and he’d do what was needed.  

I nodded and looked back at Tyler.  “I’ll be downstairs.”  Then I turned around and walked away.  And I think I realized that sometimes with Tyler, he was too hot-headed to reason with.  Some long conversation about shit wasn’t going to get us anywhere.  But leaving the roof forced his choice; it forced the reason.

So I wasn’t exactly surprised when a few minutes later, he came into the bedroom.  I had already changed into pajamas, and I was sitting on the bed.  I left his gift on his pillow, and he didn’t see it right away.  

He shifted from foot to foot for a minute before walking to the dresser and pulling out a well-worn T-shirt.  The shirt he was wearing went over his head, and I’d be lying if I said my eyes weren’t glued to him, watching.  We hadn’t changed in front of each other at all since that night.  I hadn’t seen more of him than bare arms and legs.  He had his back to me, not because he was trying to hide from me, but because he was just facing the other way.  His hair was messy from taking the other shirt off, and I had a few seconds before the other shirt went on to watch all the muscles in his back move, and fuck, I mean, he was amazingly perfect.  It was probably kind of odd to enjoy watching him just move so his shoulder blades stood out like that, and it was over way too quickly.  He stuffed the other shirt over his head before I could appreciate any of the front, and I felt kinda cheated.  Then I realized how ridiculous it was to feel that way when I was the one insisting that I couldn’t handle anything related to sex.  He went into the bathroom to change into shorts, and I felt guilty wanting to ask him to do that in the bedroom, too.  

Ugh.  

When he came out again, he chucked his jeans in the direction of the closet and was about to sit down next to me when he finally noticed the little box.  His eyes darted to me.  “That for me?”

“Must be,” I said, shrugging.

His mouth twisted into a grin that he was trying to hide and he picked the box up carefully before plopping down next to me much less carefully.  He put the box up to his ear and shook it, and I snorted.  He smiled wider. “Thank you.”

I shrugged again. “Might not want to thank me until you open it.”

I was suddenly very nervous when he started tearing the paper.  I had all day to prepare myself for this moment, and I sort of ignored the nervousness until now.  I tried to stop myself from bouncing my leg or twitching my foot, and wound up chewing on the outsides of my nails as he got closer to the inside.  Half of me wanted to see his reaction, the other half wanted to rip the box from his hands and tell him I gave him the wrong present and then fumble until I found something else or made up an excuse.  

I just sat there instead, with my stomach turning over and over, until the fucking box was open and inside was a ring box.  I hadn’t noticed him put the fucking thing in a ring box!  Oh my fucking God.  I wanted to hide under the pillows and never come out.  I mean, obviously, rings came in ring boxes, but it fucking looked like I was proposing or some shit.

His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced at me, but he must have noticed the intense look of panic and terror, and he didn’t make the jokes that were just basically asking to be made.  Instead, he just opened the box, the spring inside making that little cracking noise that they all seem to have.  

I did have to give the pawn guy some credit—the box was black and the ring was silver, and it looked really good sitting in that dark little piece of material.  

And before he could even get a word out, I was blabbing like my life depended on it.  “The dude I bought it from said it’s Celtic.  It’s a griffin and a dragon—and they’re supposed to stand for fire and water, and the griffin’s the guy symbol and the dragon the girl, but I think that’s kinda fucked up cause why would a dragon be a girl, but anyway—the knots are all together and mean connection in life.  And the griffin is, like, part bird and part lion and is a balance between good and bad—so it’s strong and protective but can also be angry and unstable…”  I realized after that part that I really didn’t want him to think that I thought he was unstable, which is probably exactly what he was thinking, so I just kept blurting.  “Not that I think you’re unstable… It was just… When he was explaining, it was more like both sides and you’re actually really stable.  You’re, like, the most stable person I’ve ever been around, and I just thought it fit you, and us, and it just looked cool, too, and the guy said that Celtic shit is really popular now and rings aren’t just a thing for girls anymore, and…” I took a deep breath, trying to calm the fuck down.  “I just wanted you to have something that…”  I was failing at this miserably and sort of just wanted to run to the bathroom and lock myself in so I could sob in the shower because that the lamest and stupidest explanation for a gift, ever.  “It’s stupid—we can go and get something else, take it back and—”

He interrupted me, “It’s perfect.”

I blinked and finally looked over at him. “What?  Really?  I mean, what?”

He smiled softly. “It’s not stupid.  At all.  It’s perfect.”  He sighed. “God, I feel like an even bigger asshole now.”

“What?  Why do you feel like an asshole?”  Had I missed something?

He shook his head. “On the roof.”

Oh.  That.  I was so wrapped up in my completely stupid and insane speech, I kind of forgot about that.  

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I waved him off.  “Don’t worry about it.  I know with your dad…” I sort or broke off because I really didn’t know how to finish that—I mean, I knew he didn’t get along with his dad, and I knew he blamed him for a lot of things, but I wasn’t ever sure how to really explain it all.  Probably because he could never really explain it all either.  

“No, I should have just blown him off.  We were having a good time, and it was the only time today where I wasn’t…”  He sighed.  “Where I was actually happy to be having a birthday.  And I blew it.”  He turned to me.  “I’m a moron.  Do you forgive me?”

I smiled softly.  “I’ll give you a birthday pass.”

He nodded.  “Thanks.”

“Oh, shit,” I said suddenly.

“What?”

“Fuck.  I didn’t think about what size you wore.  I hope it fits.  Otherwise we’ll have to get it sized I guess.  I wasn’t really planning on… I mean, I didn’t know what I was gonna get you, so I didn’t think to ask, so—”

He stopped me again.  “It fits fine, see?”  He held up his hand, and sure enough, it was just sitting there on his finger.  Something I gave him was on his finger.  A ring I gave him was on his finger.  Like he belonged to me, and everyone could fucking see it.  

My stomach had gone from nervous to completely filled with butterflies.  

He leaned over and took my face in both of his hands, the right one now leaving a strip of cool from the metal that made me shiver.  “Thank you.”  He kissed me gently, my eyes slipping closed before his lips met mine.  

I breathed out, “You’re welcome.”  When his hands dropped and his forehead rested against mine instead, I wanted to reach out and put the hand back on my face, the difference in feel and warmth—I wanted to memorize it.  “Happy Birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you wanted for your birthday?  Or something you want to do?”

He shook his head.  “No, I think this pretty much caps it.  Don’t think anything could top your present.”

I smiled shyly.  “It wasn’t that good, Tyler.”

“It is.  Trust me, it is.  I couldn’t think of anything to put on top of it that would make today better.  I just wanna be with you the rest of tonight.  That’ll make the rest of the day that sucked feel less significant.”

“Ok,” I agreed, nodding.  “You wanna talk about what sucked?”

“Not really.  Not right now.”

I nodded again.  “K.”  I looked over at the nightstand and grabbed the book he’d gotten me.  “Wanna read?”  Technically, that was probably more of a present for me, but if he was willing, I was able to accept that. 

He nodded, smiling.  “Sure,” and took the book when I held it out.

“You want anything before we start, birthday boy?”

His eyebrow rose.  “What, like, you’d fetch it for me and do my bidding?”

I snorted, covering his face with my hand.  “Exactly, yes.”

He laughed and ducked out from under my hand.  “Does having a beer count as partying with me and alcohol?”

I smirked.  “No.”

“I’ll have a beer then.”

I got up and he watched me walk around the bed.  “What?” I asked.

“Just appreciating the view.”

I rolled my eyes at him, but as I’d just done that same thing when he was changing, I couldn’t really say anything. 

When I handed him the beer, he grabbed my hand and kept holding it as he put the bottle on the nightstand.  “Sit with me.”

“Thought I was…”

He shook his head. “With me.”

Which is how I wound up sitting in front of him, my back to his chest, my…everything wrapped in his larger frame.  I forgot how much I liked that feeling—the safety of it.

“Now you see the pictures,” he explained, “follow along.”

I giggled.  “Good excuse.”

“I thought so.  Came up with that all by myself while you were getting the beer.”

I snuggled back, elbowing him a little to get comfy, and he chuckled at my wiggling.  “Almost ready?”

I elbowed him harder on purpose and he jumped.  “Almost.”

He only really did this for me one other time, and now, it seemed like a really long time ago, even though it wasn’t.  I forgot how much I liked it the first time and how amazing it was to feel him surrounding me while his voice washed over me.  The tone and volume were quieter.  He was obviously born to read shit.  I didn’t know the terms, but no one had ever made reading out loud that fucking sexy before.  It was hard to listen to the actual story, and not imagine him talking that way while doing other shit.  My reading was always choppy and full of stumbling, but the words just rolled off his tongue. 

What else I loved was that he hadn’t bought a new book.  He worked in a fucking book store; he could have just went to the kid’s section and grabbed the latest paperback, all updated with new pictures and unbroken binding.  Instead he bought a used version, hardcover, worn at the corners, older but with the coolest fucking cover, ever.  It was a greenish color, with lettering that was old and fancy.  Alice was on the cover, the white rabbit behind her, cards flying at her.  The only colors were black, white and red.  It was so much cooler than new, and I loved the idea that so many people before us had read the book, and now it was mine.  

He read titles and authors and chapter titles and stopped to look at pictures, and was generally awesome.  I wondered if he did this with his sister, and reminded myself to ask him later.  Maybe that was how he’d gotten so good at it.  

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll.”  There was a picture before the book started; of the Queen on her throne with the king next to her, looking her usual pissed off self, glaring down at her subjects.  I didn’t really remember that part from the movie, but I guessed the book was going to be a little different.  Tyler held the book open in both hands, waiting until I looked it over before he started again.  “Chapter One: Down the Rabbit Hole.  Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank and of having nothing to do; once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, ‘and what is the use of a book,’ thought Alice, ‘without pictures or conversation?’”

I giggled.  “My question exactly!”  

He laughed.  “Some of them get quite tedious, yes.”

“I’m glad this one has pictures.”

He hummed and nuzzled his cheek into my temple.  He hadn’t shaved in a few days, and the scruffiness both tickled and made me shiver.  He was doing that a lot today.  “So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.  There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, ‘Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be late!’ (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she out to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural); but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket and looked at it and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.”

He stopped so we could look at the picture next to that section.  The White Rabbit was pictured, looking at a pocket watch.  The pictures were really amazing.  “That Jefferson Airplane song is based on Alice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I think so.”  

“Only with way more drugs, of course.”

“Right.  That part is soon though.  I’m guessing Lewis Carroll wasn’t writing for the LSD-crowd when he wrote about potions and cakes.”

“Funny though, how that turned out.”

“Yeah it is.”

This definitely had to be something he was used to.  I really hadn’t meant to interrupt the story, but shit kinda popped in my head, and then out it came.  And he just carried on talking with me in the middle of it like it was no big deal.  I remembered foster parents and placement centers not liking questions or talking at all, much less if it was a rare occasion there was a story being read.  

As he started again, I was hit with this feeling of happiness.  Not that I wasn’t usually happy with Tyler, but I couldn’t have picked someone who seemed to understand or accept me better or more.  He never made me feel stupid, he answered questions he could, he didn’t think what we talked about was stupid or lame, or if he did, he was nice enough not to tell me and just go along like it was normal.  He made me feel normal.  He didn’t get mad at me easily, and he treated me like you always heard you were supposed to be treated.  He made me feel… I think what I was feeling was cared for.  Warm.  Safe.  Protected.  Cared about.  He was all of those things.  His head was bent forward, his mouth near my ear. “In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.  The rabbit-hold went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.  Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and wonder what was going—”

Was just about when I couldn’t stop myself and started nibbling his jaw.  I mean, it was right there, just asking for it.  He broke off reading suddenly when I started, and I don’t think he really knew what he was supposed to do.  I nibbled until I couldn’t reach any farther and then stopped.  

“going to happen next.  First, she tried to look—”  He stopped again when I kissed the corner of his mouth.  

“Keep reading.”

His breath was shaky and he tried to take a calming breath.  “…tried to look down and make… oh, fuck.”

He tipped his head away for me to get better access as I started lapping at his neck, over the roughness of the stubble there, the saltiness of his skin.  I chuckled, puffing air over his neck. “I don’t think that’s in the book, Tyler.”

“It is now.”

I craned to suck on his Adam’s apple when he swallowed, and he moaned after, one hand leaving the book and landing on my thigh, tracing up until his thumb fit in the space where my leg met my hip.  He traced back and forth there while I moved up his neck to his chin before he dipped his head so that I could reach his mouth.  He was going in for a kiss, but his eyes were already squeezed shut and instead of kissing him, I started sucking on his bottom lip instead.  His hand jerked and started moving, looking for something to hold onto or knead, but there wasn’t really anything for him to do that with.  Or not anything he was going to be kneading without asking first.  I actually didn’t really know what the hell I was doing. I mean, I obviously knew what I was doing, and my head wasn’t starting to freak out, so for once it seemed to agree with my body.  But I didn’t know really what to tell him so he knew it was ok.  His body was tense immediately, no longer just relaxed and comfy for me to rest against.  Everything had changed the second I started, because I could tell he was holding back, fighting with himself because he didn’t know how long I was going to last before I freaked out and pushed him away again.  What a shitty birthday that would have been.

I think he was fighting to not react as much to me, too.  He kept breathing deeply through his nose, trying to keep himself under control, even through the soft moans.  He seemed really sensitive, too—which made total sense, I hadn’t kissed him or done anything like this in long enough that he’d be that way.  

His head kept dipping lower until his chin was almost resting on my shoulder, and that couldn’t have been comfortable at all, but it allowed me to nip at his ear, and for some reason, I think that kinda did him in.  His moan was damn near painful, and the book hit the floor with a thud.  His head slammed back and I’m pretty sure he smacked it against the wall.  I couldn’t figure out where his hand that was near my hip went until I glanced down and saw that he wedged them under his thighs, like forcing them there would mean he wouldn’t touch me or something.  I kinda smirked, because it was sort of like telling a kid to sit on their hands.  

I realized he did it though because I pushed him far enough that his cock was pressing into me, and he was trying really hard not to freak me out.  I had my hands linked and resting on my stomach when he was reading, my elbows out and resting on his thighs, but I let them start wandering, too, trying to tell him that I was ok with what we were doing.  I fanned out my fingers as I ran them down his thighs, and it was like every muscle in his legs jumped at the touch.  The more he reacted, the worse I felt cause we’d been pretty fucking hot and heavy and while I was fine just turning it off because my fucked up psyche was demanding it, this had to have really sucked for him, to go from nearly everything to barely nothing.  

I shifted, grinding into him a little; the material of the boxers against his boxers might as well have been missing—both barriers were ridiculously thin cotton and I could feel every inch of him straining against me.  

His head was against the wall again, his neck tense and tight, his eyes were shut just as tightly and when I moved again, his whole body jerked and shuddered behind me.  “Jesus, fuck,” tumbled out, sounding as clenched and tight as his body was.  

I felt warm everywhere.  And he hadn’t even fucking touched me yet.  Part of it was just being so close to him, and the heat he was putting off because he was both turned on and incredibly tense trying to keep himself under control, but the other part was just me.  I hadn’t felt that way since that night, not like this.  The warmth of being in his arms, the feeling of being cared for, it was just a lot of fucking warmth.  And I wanted him to touch me really fucking badly.  

Was that fair?  I wondered.  To ask him to touch me suddenly now when I was so distant and pushed him away so much?  I mean, where did we start really, if not here, but I just felt kinda bad.  

“Tyler…” I breathed.  

“What?” God, his voice was completely fucked, deeper and almost hoarse.  

“Please…”

“Please, what?”

His voice was so strained, so edgy; he wasn’t teasing me; he wasn’t trying to drag this out.  I think he wanted me to tell him it was ok.  To actually come out and say that I wanted it, or he wasn’t going to be able to.  And had he not already had my respect, I think that right there would have sealed the deal for me.  

“Please touch me.”

I think he’d been holding his breath.  Along with everything else.  But once I said it was ok, and that I wanted it, his hands were kneading at my sides and mothefucking quickly on their way to my tits.  Those three simple words also must have given his mouth permission, because the second his hands were moving, his mouth was nipping at my neck, and the nipping turned into sucking, and I was gonna have so many fucking hickies tomorrow, I wasn’t sure how that would go over at work, and I didn’t fucking care.  

He wasn’t rough at all, but he was sure fucking eager, and it just made me grind and rub against his cock more.  His hands on my tits, even over the T-shirt I was wearing, were amazing.  I missed so much of feeling him this way, of what he could do to me, how quickly he could make me wet, and how much I loved when he massaged my tits.  

On the other hand, I kept having this nagging thought that he was still holding back.  I mean, not that I was complaining, but we were stalled at like second fucking base here.  I wasn’t even sure over the clothes could be considered second base.  I wasn’t even sure I ever knew what the fuck those stupid teenage bases were, because no one I ever dealt with really had much need for fumbling introductions and awkward beginnings.  They weren’t there to make me feel comfortable—if they wanted to touch a tit that was usually what they did—as long as it was paid for.  

He didn’t want to be holding back; I could tell.  He was breathing heavily, panting in my ear while he pushed his hips up into me while keeping up the kneading.  I was quiet as long as possible, and then breathed out, “Tyler, under the shirt.  Please?”

And just like before, the minute I said it was ok, his hand was there, fingers crawling under the material of my shirt and then finally, his hands were on my tits with no barrier.  He kneaded both for a while, taking his time, but there was an edge to it as he started flicking his thumbs over my nipples.  His hands felt so amazing; I could never figure out how he could make this feel so intense and gentle at the same time.  He trailed his left hand down to my stomach while rolling my nipple with the other, and I realized the hand on my stomach was to help guide and pull me back into him while he rolled his hips.  It wasn’t like I needed more encouragement, and I just kept grinding back while he pushed up and forward.  

And, fuck, I needed his fingers inside me.  I didn’t waste time waiting for that—I just grabbed the hand on my stomach and started moving it where I wanted it.  I moved us together under the waistband of my shorts, pushing his hand closer to my opening.  “Inside, Tyler.  Please.”

I didn’t move my hand right away, I dunno why; maybe I wanted to make sure he kept going.  I let go when two of his fingers touched the wetness there, and threw my legs over his, spreading wide so he could have easier access.  I think the only thing louder than my moan at that first feeling of his fingers was his own.  It was right in my ear, and I pressed onto his fingers immediately while still managing to shove back on him.  

As his fingers curled, I really didn’t know how he was focusing on me with all of the friction I was grinding into his cock.  Maybe he was scared of losing the focus, too, because his other hand moved from rolling my nipple to fighting with the waistband to join his other.  

I knew the second he rubbed over my clit this was going to be a really fucking fast orgasm.  But I also knew it was going to be a really fucking intense one, too.  It had felt like this was so unreachable just yesterday, and I didn’t really know what had changed.  But as he started to rub back and forth on a spot above my clit, I didn’t really give a shit.  The pressure built so fucking fast, until it was too much, and then I was gone, shuddering as I came all over his fingers.  

I don’t think I was ever that loud before.  Even when I was faking it with assholes that got off on that shit.  

It felt like there was too much air and not enough all at once.  His fingers were still lingering in me, playing in the wetness, but I could feel him still hard behind me.  I shifted from my slumped position and pressed more directly onto his cock again.  He groaned and moved his hands out, licking me off of his fingers, and Jesus Fucking Christ, he needed to come.  Guys that awesome needed to come.  And I was proud of myself because I hadn’t once even thought about freaking out.  I wanted this.  

“Tyler?”

“Mmm?”

“I want you to come, too.”

“I’m good.”

“No,” I said quickly.  “I want you to come.  What do you want?”

He chuckled lightly.  “It’s ok.”

I twisted so I could glare at him, curling my legs under me, and then leaned forward into him, both hands going to his chest.  “It’s not.  And I’m ok with this.  I want this.  I want you to come.”  He watched me, his eyes not leaving mine, but I didn’t hesitate.  “What do you want?  Handjob?  Blowjob?”

He moved a stray lock of hair out of my face, tracing behind my ear and all the way down my jaw with the pads of his fingers.  “And you’re ready for that?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure.”

He didn’t say that like a question, more like a confirmation.  I nodded. “Yes.”

There was silence for a few seconds again.  “This isn’t because of my birthday, is it?”

I shook my head.  “Well, I mean, sure, I want you to come for your birthday, but no, it’s not just about that.  It would really fucking suck if you didn’t get to come though, after all that, and it was your birthday.”

“I don’t want it to be because of that if you’re not ready.”

“I’m ready.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “You have to tell me if you feel like you’re getting freaked out.  And tell me to stop.”

“I will, but that’s not going to happen.  So what do you want?  Birthday blowjob?”

I think he was considering his options.  His head tipped back to rest against the wall as he decided.  “Rubbing against you felt nice.”

“You want me to keep doing that?”

He shook his head.  

“Then what?”

“I’d be on top.”

“Oh.”  I shrugged. “Well go ahead.  Where do you want me?”

His eyebrows rose and I smirked.  

“You’re totally sure?”

I nodded. “I’m sure.”

“’Cause you can be on top—it’ll work that way, too.”

“No,” I shook my head. “Whatever you want.  That’s what I want.”  Actually, I was kinda surprised he didn’t go for the blowjob.  And I’d be lying if I said I was kinda hoping he was gonna say that because I really wanted to.  

We sort of sat there for a minute, and I’m not sure what he was waiting for.  I already said it was good, and there wasn’t really anything else to talk about.  So, since it seemed I had to make every first move here, which was just…different—it wasn’t like I didn’t make first moves with him before, but a lot of time it seemed like we got there together, or we started together, and with all the shit that happened, it was really clear that at least for the first things we were going to start now, he was not going to be doing anything unless I went first.  

So I basically just backed up and sat on my knees, looking at him impatiently, eyebrows raised, trying to send the message that he should just fucking start doing shit because there wasn’t going to be any more this.  Like, hello, here I was all fucking raring to go and no one to rub against because he was being all skittish or whatever.  It wasn’t even skittish; it was just… annoying, and non-action-y.  

He smirked and moved for-fucking-finally, and we did that really awesome dance on the bed where you’re basically walking on your knees trying to get around each other because I needed to be where he was and he needed to be where I was, and doing that while getting all hands-y (again—for-fucking-finally) and kissing at the same time was some difficult shit.  I pretty much wound up just falling back and hoping the pillow was close; and he didn’t seem to care much if we were near pillows as long as I was on my back.  

And I started laughing; I couldn’t help it.  Because positions were awkward, no matter how smooth you were trying to be, and if we couldn’t laugh at ourselves, we didn’t have a prayer.  He chuckled, too, and I loved the way his smile always lightened his face when he was trying to be so serious.  And I know a lot of times; it was because he was trying to be something for me.  Maybe that was why a lot of these at the start seemed to make me laugh—I wanted him to be lighter, that I knew he was trying, and he could go easier on himself because we were fine and everything was cool.  

He dipped to kiss me, half between my legs and half straddling one of my legs, his hands were all awkwardly placed and he couldn’t possibly hold himself up that way, but it didn’t matter.  The Twister moves were sort of half the fun, too.  I linked my hands behind his neck and kept him there in that really awkward position anyway, because I wanted to kiss him more than I wanted him to be comfortable.  And he didn’t seem to have any complaints, if his tongue in my mouth was any kind of clue.  He managed to get both legs between mine with some maneuvering, and I only let go of his neck to start yanking on the bottom of his T-shirt.  

Thankfully, he only hesitated a minute, and let me haul it up and rip it off of his head all inside out.  My hands were on his chest right away, my fingertips tracing his collarbone and remembering all the things I loved about him shirtless.  I missed this, too.  And I wanted him to know that.  I wanted him to know that just because my mind hadn’t wanted it, I wanted him.  That was the end of the fucking story.  I wanted him just as much as he wanted me, and I missed him this way just as much, too.  He couldn’t decide if he wanted to hang his head or snap it backwards when my thumbs rolled over his nipples, and my fingers fanned out over his ribs and sides, thumbs moving to run over his abs.  He shuddered, biting his lip, when I skimmed over his stomach, the muscles there jumping under my fingers.  

I realized that I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually done this before.  I mean, the idea was the same as regular sex, I figured.  He could rub and thrust and do whatever the fuck he wanted; he just wasn’t inside to do it.  So I opened my legs wider, hiking them up by his hips, and his hands shot out to hold them up, hooking them in the crooks of his elbows as he lowered himself to me.  

The boy was really hard.  And probably had been.  Since, like, forever.  His cock was pressed between us and he shifted until he was pressed right over my clit.  And fucking A. “This was supposed to be for you,” I pointed out.

He shrugged and lowered some more, my legs might as well have been over his shoulders.  Good thing strippers were flexible.  Also, no complaints.  And really—this was sort of perfect when I thought about it.  What better way to get someone used to the motions of sex, no matter how fucking ridiculous that sounded because I’d been a fucking hooker, but this, which was basically sex without the sex.  Because the connection was still there, the feelings were still there; it was just less intense and not as likely to freak out the gun-shy.  

“Why can’t I get you off, too?”  He asked.  “What’s the difference if I get off?”

I thought about that a second and couldn’t really see why I’d even asked.  “Yeah, ok.”

He nodded, like he was fucking proud of that, and I let him have it because it was his birthday.  

And then he started moving and I really didn’t give a fuck about anything.  Because he wasn’t actually moving his cock at all; he was rolling his hips, but it made his cock rub over my clit and if he rolled high enough, I couldn’t hold in the noises that just kept tumbling out.  He was also really lucky I didn’t have long nails, because I couldn’t seem to stop raking them over his back either.  And he kept grunting and panting and the sounds just did something to make it even better, and it was just all fucking too much, and insane because I came only a little while ago, and this was already setting up to be a better orgasm.  

The friction—holy fucking shit.  I couldn’t believe that we never tried this before.  Why the fuck hadn’t he tried this before?!  And obviously, he felt the same way because I didn’t think he was even gonna last beyond the first few strokes.  

The only thing I could say, because I also knew he was fucking holding off until I got off, too, was that this orgasm could quite possibly kill him from the force and the buildup, and all the pent up everything—and we were probably gonna need new sheets.  It was useless to tell him to just get off, or to tell him he didn’t need to wait for me, because he was just fucking gonna anyway.  So instead, I made him let go of my legs and hooked them around him instead, and he totally stumbled with the strokes and the rubbing because it made it that much hotter, closer, and more intense and my orgasm sparked immediately.  

And then he finally let go, and basically crash-landed into me; like the force of coming just knocked the fight out of him.  Tyler Hawkins, down for the count.  I shifted my legs down, but still kept them curled around him, and managed to free my hands out from where they were trapped when he collapsed on me.  

And then I just held him.  His head was somewhere next to mine, half on my shoulder, half on the pillow and he was breathing hot air into my neck.  He groaned and shifted against me when I started running my fingers up and down his back, and I could feel the little tremors that were traveling through his whole body, his cock still pulsing with aftershocks.  

He finally groaned once more and snuffled into my neck, “Ya gotta stop that.  I’m too sensitive.”

I snorted and rested the hand on his back instead, tempted to just keep doing it, but he asked, so I stopped.  

His breathing evened out with the rest of his body, his heart not hammering against my chest anymore, and I thought he’d fallen asleep.  “You sleepin’?”

He hummed quietly, and it took him a minute to answer.  “I can’t decide if I’m really wired and hyper now or really exhausted.  I think both.  I feel hyper.  Like humming.  My whole body is humming.  But I think that’s just the orgasm.  Or the stroke I’m having.  So, I’m gonna stick with the exhausted and just pass out, here, K?”  

I laughed quietly. “Yeah, ok.”

“Am I too heavy?  You want me to move?”

“You’re good.”

“K.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“Best fucking ever.”

I chuckled and pressed a kiss to his ear, which was the only thing I could reach from this spot.  Then I couldn’t resist and blew air gently in his ear, too.  He jerked back; not a lot, but enough that he was looking at me.  I smiled, completely guiltily, and he just gave me this lazy grin back before he dropped his head.  

“Night, Allison.”

“Night.”

Neither of us bothered to get up to get any of the lights.  And he was out quickly.  Or at least I thought he was.  

“Hey, Allison?” he said quietly a while later.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

I squeezed him. “You’re welcome.  Thank you, too.”

He sighed. “This was, like, the best birthday, ever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  Totally.  Way better than the dinosaur party I had when I was eight.”

I laughed loudly, almost shoving him off of me.  “I’m glad.”

“Yeah, who knew dry humping would top the T-Rex one day?”

One (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two |  Twenty-Three  |  Twenty-Four  |  Twenty-Five  |  Twenty-Six  |  Twenty-Seven |