Page 73 of Twisted Needs

The boy I’ve watched grow up. The boy who still falls asleep on the couch during movies sometimes. The boy who steals my beers and expensive wine. The boy who rolls his eyes every time I call him sweetheart.

The boy I’m absolutely, undeniably fucked over.

Reality crashes back in, hitting me deep in the chest and hurting more than it should. Or maybe it should hurt more.

“Get upstairs,” I murmur in a low, forcibly controlled voice. I rise to my feet, pulling him with me. “Time for bed.”

Anders assess me carefully, like he’s still trying to feel things out. Like he still has hope.

He can’t. I know what he wants and I can’t give him that.

My jaw clenches. “Now.”

I can already feel this becoming something uncontrollable.

Anders studies my face for another long second before something content settles over his expression. Which somehow makes me feel sick to my stomach.

And then he leans into my ear. “You don’t have to look so scared of me,” he says quietly. “I won’t tell anybody what you did.”

I almost laugh. My entire body flashes with dread.

It’s not that I’m scared of him. I’m scared of myself around him because I can’t trust myself not to hurt him. There’s a major difference between the two.

He reaches up and smooths a hand briefly over my chest before stepping back. The loss of contact feels painfully immediate. I hold my breath as I watch him button his jeans back up with a pleased look in his eyes.

Like he’s just fine with this…or maybe he already expected things to end like this before it even happened.

He’s not arguing. He’s actually listening.

Without another word, he turns toward the stairs.

I won’t tell anybody what you did. I won’t tell anybody what you did. I won’t tell anybody what you did.

Fuck. Panic surges through me so fast it’s almost embarrassing.

“Anders, wait.”

He pauses halfway through turning around. I move before I can think better of it, immediately cupping his jaw with a little urgency.

This is wrong. I can’t have him. I shouldn’t want him.

But he’s too okay with this. He walked off like it meant nothing. Like I mean nothing to him.

“What?” He snaps a little, narrowing his eyes. “I thought it was bed time.”

I open my mouth to speak, then close it. What do I even say? I should’ve just let him go.

“Speak,” he demands. “Quit wasting my time.”

“I’m not⁠—”

He bites down on his bottom lip without even realizing, and for a good five seconds it’s the only thing I can focus on.

I’m disgusting. Maybe that’s what finally breaks something open inside me.

I don’t want anyone else to have this. I don’t care if I can’t…the thought of another man getting to watch Anders doing such a simple thing sends an uncontrollable rage through me.

Closing my eyes, I exhale through my nose and lean in with a hardened look on my face. And then I just about fucking lose it.