“Yeah? Well, I could probably draw your dick from memory.”Deflect and redirect. Rinse and repeat.
He pulls back, chuckling a little. “Yeah? You sure? Maybe you need another peek?” He rolls his hips against me, setting me on fire.
I snort, because yes. The answer will always be yes when he’s near me, and especially when he kisses my neck, and I can feel him hardening against me. And my dick’s already on board.
He pulls back, squinting at me. “Was that a ‘yes, you idiot’, or ‘no, you idiot’?”
I roll my hips against him. “What do you think?”
Afterwards, we’re slouching on the couch, scrolling on our phones. My dad keeps sending me memes, and awful dad jokes that I hate, but can’t ignore it without feeling bad, so I watch them anyway.
And then I feel Kaden’s hand against my wrist, up my hand, and he intertwines his fingers with mine. I glance at him but he’s still staring down his phone, so I lift our joined hands, holding them between us.
“What’s this?”
He looks up at me, tongue in his cheek. “Oh, those are hands,” he says, nodding a little and goes back to stare into his phone.
And I try so hard to keep the crazy grin from taking over my face. I’m failing, obviously.
“And we’re holding them because…?”
He looks up at me again, cocking an eyebrow. “I held your dick twenty minutes ago, but your hand is off limits?”
I snort, and that turns into a chuckle, and he shoots me a grin before he looks down again, lightly stroking his thumb along my index finger.
“Is this because of what I told you? Because you think I’m a softie who wanna hold hands?”
“Your hands are soft.”
“Kade—”
“Seth,” he says, looking up at me, sighing. “Either hold my hand, or don’t,” he shrugs, shaking his head.
Fine. I’ll hold his damn hand. No skin off my back. It’s not like it’s harming me in any way. It’s not like I haven’t dreamt of precisely this for years.
And maybe it’s even worth him thinking I’m a softie, because I am, aren’t I? And if that makes him hold my hand, then so fucking be it.
62
Kaden
I’minmycar,driving to the studio, and man, does it feel great to have it back.
When they closed down all non-essential businesses, I started to draw and sell some prints online, which was an okay income, but it wasn’t enough to keep both my overpriced, shitty apartment, and my car. So, I sold it to my foster-brother Jesse, with the promise that I could buy it back as soon as I could afford it. And with the studio being back to full business, I’d finally scraped up enough to get it back. It’s a piece of junk, really. Old as time, my black Range Rover, but I like it. And it’s never failed me.
So, I picked up it at Jesse’s this morning, and took a detour, riding along Highway 101, listening to music. I used to love that. Going for drives to nowhere, pumping music through the speakers and just be.
When I get to the studio, the door’s locked. I glance at my phone, realizing I was out driving a little longer than I thought. Which means Seth and Iggy are probably out having lunch, so I unlock the door, and walk inside.
There’s some shrill, cursive voice singing about being a great one streaming from the speakers at a low volume—Iggy’s damn playlist. I connect my phone to the speaker, put Creed on, and walk over to the counter, looking over the schedule. I flip the pages back and forth, feeling a little confused.
Firstly, Jude’s booked an appointment with Seth. And, yeah, I got that he’s interested in him. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes. But is it just me, or isn’t that a little shady? I mean, he was my customer first. I spent months tattooing his damn back, and I hated the design. Don’t I get any credit for that? Now he’s just switching to someone else? It annoys me. As a matter of fact, it annoys me to no end.
And why the hell can’t he just ask Seth out, if he’s so interested in him? Why pretend he wants a tattoo, if what he really wants is Seth?
See? Shady.
And also, who does that? Isn’t that a little too close to creepy? Like, I would never hit on my hairdresser. Or my dentist. That shit’s just wrong, right?
