Qiang’s POV
It’s been a little over a week since the ‘interrogation in the barn in the middle of nowhere’ insanity went down. It took less than forty-eight hours after that for Kingston’s letter of resignation to hit Coach Stephens desk and for him to move back home with plans to finish out the school year remotely.
I highly doubt the school made any move to argue with him about it under the circumstances. Sterling Adair’s fall is still the most talked-about subject on every news channel and gossip column. Just as Cade promised, the longer the gossip continues, the more of his deeds get dragged into the spotlight. Cade has ensured the victim’s identities remain anonymous, but enough has been uncovered for there to be no way for Sterling to return to the same level of power and reputation he had before, even if he somehow manages to escape charges.
Regardless of how dramatically everything went down, it doesn’t feel like all that much has changed. Obviously, there’s a profound sense of relief at knowing Sterling is off the streets, and an even stronger sense of pity, knowing more of Kingston’s past now. But all of that has simmered down into the background of my life.
Grant and I dissected that in my last session, and basically workedout that sometimes the taste of something can last longer than it actually exists in your mouth. Meaning the memories of them were stronger than the reality of them, and with them out of my life, and knowing Sterling can’t cause any harm, and the root of why Kingston had caused harm has effectively neutralized them in my mind.
That doesn’t mean there isn’t still a whole shit-ton of fucked up shit in my head. Just because the very present threat of them in my life has been removed doesn’t mean the havoc they caused has been dispelled. Nor have the years of self-deprecation, which I’m still working on not letting win like I did before.
That part is easier said than done. After years of automatically accepting every horrid thought about myself, trying to purposely deny them now isn’t as natural as I’m sure most people think it should be. But I have Tristan, Qi, and Marcus constantly in my ear. Not to mention all the parentals, and of course, Natasha too.
A light knock interrupts my musings before Marcus pops his head into my studio doorway.
“You recording?” he mouths, so he doesn’t interrupt in case I am.
I shake my head. I’m not really doing anything other than rearranging some of my shelves and tidying up in general. Normally, I keep things pretty tidy anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to shuffle the products around a little bit to remind myself of everything I have and sometimes spark creativity to try something new.
“No, you’re good,” I smile over at him invitingly.
If it weren’t for the fact that we’ve been living together for several months now and slowly learning how to navigate around each other, it’d be a bit uncanny how used to him in my space I am for the small handful of weeks we’ve been a couple. The biggest thing I’m still getting used to is the overwhelming thu-thump of my heart whenever he’s near and allowing myself to experience and enjoy it, instead of immediately trying to stifle it.
His grin widens while he comes in the rest of the way, plopping down on the free chair in front of my vanity.
“So then if you aren’t recording, does that mean you’re simply hiding?” he asks, and I flush at having been caught so easily.
Qi is currently downstairs plotting out Tristan’s and his sex calendar for the month. While it seems like a ridiculous thing to do, it’s something they worked out to help them remember to keep sex in the conversation for them. With both of them being under the aroace umbrellas, sex and romance fall by the wayside sometimes, despite my brother’s tendency to overshare and be curious, and Tristan being a consistent sap.
However, Qi also likes to insert themed sexual explorations on their calendar as well, and when I saw him Googling shibari, I felt it was good to make myself scarce before he started asking questions. Although I did at least let him know that he’ll need a very thorough understanding of anatomy and pressure points before diving too deep into that one. It was about when he nodded and made a comment about starting with leather handcuffs that I made an excuse and slipped upstairs.
“I don’t thinkhidingis the right word, since he knows where to find me,” I point out.
Marcus’s eyes are lit up like they usually are when he’s looking at me. Since we started dating, the longing and curiosity have been replaced with tangible happiness. It makes me feel so much knowing that I’m the reason for that happiness.
“I find it amusing how you try so hard to pretend as if it annoys you when you secretly love it,” he says, leaning back in his chair with his legs spread wide.
A huff escapes me while I turn back to dusting the shelves.
“I guess I can’t help but love the things that irritate me the most. Just look at you,” I tell him.
A pin drop of silence falls, and my shoulders stiffen as I realize what I just said. I mean, I already realized I was in love with him, but I hadn’t toldhimthat yet. I hadn’t even decided how or when I was gonna tell him.
My back is to Marcus, but I can still hear him getting up from the chair. One step, two, I pull in a steady breath as his fingers reach around me to hook under my chin and pull my face towards his.
“Do you mean that?”
His rumbly voice hits deep, while his wide, obsidian eyes search mine with a hope so visceral that there isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t feel it.
A million thoughts of somehow dispelling the moment and making an excuse to cover what I just heavily implied fly to my tongue. But I don’t want to. Maybe I hadn’t planned to say it yet, but now that it’s flown out there, I don’t want to cage the words back inside again.
I fully turn towards him and wrap my hand around his wrist. Such a quick, simple gesture, but as each of my fingers curls one at a time around his skin, it feels like time stops, shifts, and remolds itself around the words that I know won’t change anything, but yet will somehow changeeverythingall the same.
“Yeah, Marcus. I mean it. I love you.”
I don’t even get a moment to read the look in Marcus’s eyes before his lips crash against mine. He pulls me against him while he ravages my mouth with a mixture of joy and desperation.
I’ve been trying so hard not to think about howluckyI am to have him because I’m supposed to be focusing on embracing the concept that Ideserveto have him. But sometimes, in moments like these, when his obvious adoration for me explodes out of him and into me, it’s hard not to feel like the luckiest fucker on the planet.
