SEAN: You’re terrible. How do U expect me to get any work done when U go and say something like that?
I could practically hear the resignation in his voice. This was happening. It had been a long time coming, hadn’t it? The past three years of flirting and bickering, the game of him getting me tossed out of bars and clubs while I teased him about his belly and called him Pooh Bear because he was a big oaf that hadn’t the foresight not to wear a red shirt with a pair of teddy bear-ears attached to a headband.
I was floating through the clouds now, the musical notes thrumming against the sky, sending splashes of color everywhere. It was what I imagined heaven might look like if it existed.
I heard the creak of the stairs leading up to his apartment through the beat of the music and jumped to my feet. Was he coming home this early? But I wasn’t ready.
Sure enough, he walked in the door, looking a bit feral as if I’d poked the beast and got a grizzly instead of a teddy bear. He passed me an annoyed look and set his phone on the coffee table. I forced the lump down my throat as he tugged his black t-shirt off, drilling his eyes into me.
“What happened? I thought you were going to drive me wild, but you’re just standing there like a deer in headlights,” he said.
“There’s still time,” I huffed and looked away. “Don’t heckle me, I’m still sick.”
He made a sound that let me know he was calling my bluff. “I need a shower. The air of the club has a way of getting in your skin. I’m on call for emergencies, so if that phone rings let me know right away.”
I parted my lips to speak but nothing came out as he gave me his back and disappeared into the bathroom.
I thought I’d have a few hours to prepare, and think about what I’d do and how, but what did it matter if this happened now or later?
It was happening.
Maybe, it was always supposed to happen. My heart thrummed in my ears and a rush of discordant notes buzzed in my mind. I listened to the shower come on, the gentle hiss of the spray like a concerto to the music within me.
I stood where I was, listening, unsure of what to do. The water cut off, he cleared his throat, and whispered somethingindecipherable that sounded like a curse. He seemed to spend an age in the bathroom, and it eased me to know he might be as nervous as I was about this. He finally appeared in nothing but his jeans that were loose at the lapels as if he wasn't sure he should even put them on, his hair slicked back, his beard unusually unkempt.
“You’re going to be honest with me. No hiding behind clever insults, amirite?” he said, his shoulders rolling as he breathed heavily.
I nodded, all my senses lighting up. I noticed little things like the tiny drops of water clinging to the fuzz on his chest, that he had an innie belly-button, and the way his lip was between his teeth as if he were unsure. And when he came as close as he dared, I caught the faint scent of soap coming off his body.
Reaching out, I touched his shoulder gently, where his collarbone plugged into his deltoid. He seemed surprised, his throat shifting as he tracked my touch with burning green eyes. I moved to his center, tracing the bone, and thrust my hand into the curls on his chest.
He cupped my cheek, the contact surprising and shocking and fucking amazing. If he could make me feel so greatly with a single touch, I wondered what his lips were going to do to me.
I sought his mouth, completely out of control, uncoordinated, dizzy. He met me halfway, our lips pressing and in my desperation, I knocked our teeth together.
“Slow down,” he murmured, taking his lips from mine. “There’s no reason to rush. Let’s sit and chill for a bit.”
The moment I was off my feet, I let go of the breath I’d been holding.
Sean settled next to me and bumped me with his shoulder. “Looks like I’ve blown your mind.”
Rolling my eyes, I huffed. “You’re so full of yourself.”
He smiled slyly and took my hand, his skin rough. He ran his fingertips all over me, tracing the bones of my knuckles. “You have such nice hands.”
“The better to touch you with.”
He gasped in delight, and I covered my own laugh. It was cheesy but it was nice goofing off with him. I leaned against him, his arm circling around my shoulders.
He said against my hair, “You can change your mind, you know.”
“I don’t want to. It’s just… I learned at an early age to force myself into the mold my parents decided upon and to do that I’ve had to hide who I am and not talk about my feelings. I’m finding it hard trying to reshape myself.” I focused on our linked hands, the color of his skin lighter against mine. He didn’t moisturize and his nails were jagged as if he bit them off when they got too long, like a typical uncouth macho man. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
He puffed out his chest and tipped his chin up. “Which is why you chose me. Because not only am I hot, but I’m something of a sexpert.”
I rested my head against his shoulder. He wasn’t wrong. He’d made a good case for why he should be the one to guide me into this world. Still didn’t make it easy.
I recalled everything I’d gone through the last few years of surviving my parents. Stopping now would be counterproductive. Rolling my head back, I looked at him for a long while, trying to commit everything about him to memory. I had a feeling he was going to consume my thoughts for a long time.
