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“They do.”
“Because I kind of don’t want to be anywhere that requires clothes.”
As much as I wanted to show him off to a bunch of strangers in Chicago, I like this idea much better.
“Let’s go then.”
CHAPTER 20
Evan
Ican’t believe I’m in Chicago right now going to Marcus’s apartment.
His Jeep is parked on the third level of the garage, and when we get to it, he unlocks it and tosses my bag in the back before reaching into the console and pulling out a bottle of water, and handing it to me without a word.
“Thanks,” I say appreciatively, something in my chest softens at the thought of him standing in a gas station somewhere, thinking of getting me water while he was on his way.
“Cold?” he asks as he starts the engine, ignoring my thanks, which I’m not surprised by at all.
“A little.” I hadn’t realized I was shivering.
He cranks the heat, turns on my seat warmer, and reaches over to squeeze my thigh. His hand stays there as he pulls out of the garage and I cover it with mine, wanting to keep it there.
His car is familiar now, comforting even. So is being with him. This feels like coming home, and I’m well aware I’m four hours from Bloomington.
The drive from O’Hare takes us through neighborhoods I don’t recognize. I haven’t spent much time in Chicago, but I have been here a handful of times in my life. Marcus navigates the streets with an easy confidence as his thumb traces small circles against my leg.
“What’s your favorite thing about living here?” I ask.
He’s quiet for a moment as he thinks through his response. “The anonymity. No one knows me, so no one has expectations I can’t meet.”
Fuck. My heart aches at that, because everyone in his life has set him up to fail.
“Your family is wrong. You know that, right?” I press. Marcus is kind, considerate, observant, and he makes me feel safe and comfortable.
He gives my thigh a squeeze. “Yeah, I do.”
“Good.” And instead of pretending I don’t want to hold his hand, I flip it over and lace our fingers together. His breath hitches as I do, but I just give his palm a little squeeze that he returns.
The rest of the drive has me comparing Seattle and Chicago. It makes me wonder if he’d even like Seattle. Would he fit into the life I’ve built there? Would he want to?
It’s too easy to picture him in my apartment, sprawled out with a beer on the couch while we watch TV, but would he be happy there? I think back to the conversation we had last month in the hotel room, back when this all still felt more hypothetical than it does right now.
“Do you ever think about leaving Chicago?” I’d asked.
“Sometimes. I definitely don’t feel like it’s my place the same way you feel about Seattle, but I don’t know where else I’d go,” he’d said.
Maybe Seattle could be that place.
We’ll see how this weekend goes, but I think a trip could be good for him, a chance to see it. To maybe start imagining a future together with him there.
“What are you thinking about?” Marcus asks, pulling me out of my head.
“Just... wondering what your place is like.” I lie because it feels safer than admitting I’m trying to picture him moving to Seattle and fitting into my life.
“It’s nothing special so don’t get your hopes up.”
“I don’t care what it looks like. I’m just excited to see more of your life,” I admit. “I want to know all of you, Marcus.”
