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I couldn’t even feel my mouth when the words came out. If I’d ever had new shoes,reallynew, not new to me from Goodwill or hand-me-downs from some neighbor that felt bad for me, a size too big or two sizes too small, or half worn out before I put them on, it was so long ago I couldn’t remember it. These werenew.Like theboxwas nicer than any shoes I’d ever had.
I swallowed, and when I did, I swear I could taste them in the back of my throat somehow, like they smelled so strong like leather or rubber or whatever that new shoe smell was, it just filled up all of me, gave me a head rush. I flipped the top open and looked at the tissue paper, folded all crisp, logo printed, and just like I’d known when he put them on my lap, like I was fucking psychic all the sudden, I knew what was going to be inside. Knew I’d stood outside that shop window just long enough pretending not to look, not to care, and he’d seen right through my pretending just like he saw all of me.
I folded the paper back slow, like it was Christmas wrapping, and swear to god it felt like every birthday, every holiday, not even because of a present, but because just sitting there, just wanting me to be fucking happy, he gave meeverything.
They wereslick. Better in person than through the glass, some of the prettiest things I’d ever seen. Black and white like the movies, cut out and sharp with fat tongues and they werenew-new, so much cushion they were puffy, treads like fucking tires. Not fucking streetwise tires either, all-terrain wheels. This shit would last. He was always giving me shit that would last.
“These are…”
“If you don’t like them—”
“I like them,” I interrupted him, laughing. “I really fucking like them. I just… can’t believe you’d give me something like this. For passing a stupid test.”
“It’s not just for that. You need them. I don’t want you to go without things you need anymore. Not shoes, not clothes, not help with your homework, not… Not anything. I want you to feel safe. I want you to know things will be okay here. They will, Logan, I promise.”
I nodded. I knew he’d take whatever I’d give him when it came to trying to tell him how he made me feel. I knew I could sayI feel safe with you,orI feel good here, orYou make me feel warm and disgusting like my heart exploded all over my insides,and he’d nod and say thank you and wait like the smug prick he was, patient forever while I got my shit together.
Except my shit was never going to be together, and he was the only person I’d ever met who didn’t seem to think that was any kind of requirement for you to be a good person, deserve good things. He didn’t think any of the ways I was broken made me ugly or bad or unlovable. Not even after today, after everything he’d seen.
He was obsessed with me exactly the way I was with him. Like stalker, murdery, own-my-ass obsessed. And that was what I wanted.Hewas what I wanted. Fuck everybody else.
“Remember that day practice got rained out?” I asked him, looking up from the shoes. “We hung out in the library, and I asked you why you didn’t play any sports?”
He smiled a little, nodding, probably not knowing where I was going with this and that made two of us, so we’d just see, I guess. “Yeah.”
“You said you didn’t like teams. But…” I sucked on my lip when my mouth got crazy dry all the sudden, the truth just sucking up all my saliva. “I’ve been playing sports forever. And nobody’s ever been on my team like you’ve been. I never would have passed that test without you. But it’s way more than just that. Everything you’ve done… And given me. Helped me and listened to me and yanked me back in line. Fuckingsavedme over and over, like not just my scholarship, but my fuckinglife... I didn’t know someone could give you all that and just… It feels really good to be taken care of.”
I reached over the box for him, grabbing at his neck and pulling him closer, and he got up on his knees and slid his arms around me, squeezing me tight. I was sore as hell everywhere, I was gonna feel stomped on until next week, but I just wanted him to hold me tighter.
When I finally let him go and he pulled back, he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “You know, I was not expecting you to go all…” His voice got rough, and he snapped his sentence off, and I realized it wasn’t laughter he was trying to hold back, that was just a cover. He cleared his throat, reaching out and fiddling with the tissue paper in the box. “I was really expecting you to put up more of a fight about these.”
I shrugged. “I mean, I’m pretty tired of stealing the rubber cement from the library to glue my shoes back together. But… I can definitely be a brat about it if you want me to.” I pulled one shoe out of the box and Jesus Christ was it thick and sturdy and heavy. Squeezing it as hard as I could barely bent it, and the sole was rock hard. I could climb a fucking mountain in these things. Later. I smacked the sole against my palm and grinned. “Maybe you can help me break them in.”
“I think that’s an excellent plan,” he said, pulling the shoe out of my hand and putting it back in the box, moving it over to the side of the bed carefully as he climbed up on top of me, pushing me flat on the mattress and finding my hands as he bent down and found my lips.
“The fuck, Beast, what about my shoes,” I laughed, thrusting up against him, squeezing his fingers and pretending to struggle, then snapping at his lips again.
“The shoes can touch you after I touch you. First I’m gonna undress you and kiss every sore inch of your body. And then I’ll make you extra sore.”
I groaned, wrapping my legs around him as he growled against my lips and my throat, planting kisses and bites everywhere, sucking hard enough to leave marks I wouldn’t be able to explain away and didn’t want to. I wanted to walk down the goddamn halls and block every asshole trying to get into his locker and let the whole school watch The Beast be my boyfriend in the loudest, most annoying way possible.
I tipped my head all the way back and he tugged down the collar of my shirt and slid his hand up the bottom at the same time, stroking and licking and trying to undress me, and I was so wound up I kept twisting out of his grasp.
“Little boy, you better hold still, or I’ll be making you sore sooner than later,” he warned me, dipping into his Daddy voice, sprinkling it on me, making me shiver, and I laughed, squirming harder because I liked that voice, I liked a little warning.
“The sooner the better,” I told him.
“Your call.”
He reached down to unbutton my jeans, grabbing at me when I twisted away, flipping over and making him chase me up to the center of the bed. I crawled up to the pillows and he pounced on me, straddling the back of my thighs and smashing me flat, and I inhaled the scent of him on the blankets and sheets and pillowcases as he shoved my shirt up my back, digging into my lats so hard I couldn’t breathe for a second and then I groaned embarrassingly loud.
“Feel good?” he asked me softly.
“I’m so fucking sore, oh my god,” I whimpered into the pillow and felt myself start to melt as he worked his huge hands into me, rough and then gentle, so good my eyes watered.
“I know. What a long, hard week, huh?”
“Mmmhmm.” Jesus, understatement of my lifetime. But the best one too.
