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“Fuck you,” he laughed.
“Nah, it’s a… look. You know, you’re like a… one of those book covers that’s all boring and then you open it up and it’s all abs and hands and big swinging dick.”
He laughed again, loud, and I’d never heard one like that before, heavy and warm and like I wanted to make him laugh all the time.
“Is that what you think I am?” he asked.
“That’s what I know you are. So how come you hide it? Don’t gimmie that shit about not knowing how to dress. You showing up at my house in that tshirt and those jeans, you knew what was up. You’re fucking hot, Beast.”
He smirked, and maybe he was embarrassed being called out, but he knew it was true. “Yeah, well, that was… a situational variance,” he said, trotting out some nerd words. “I’m not looking to be hot at school. I’m looking to be invisible.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s how I’m comfortable.”
“Kinda hard to be invisible when you’re ten feet tall.”
“Not as hard as you’d think.”
I guess I understood that too.
He leaned back in his chair and gave me a hard look. “I’m gonna take the next couple weeks off work,” he told me, and I shook my head.
“Why? Don’t do that. I was just… being a baby. Seriously, don’t do that. You just said you had to have a job.”
“Three years ago I had to have a job. Now I do what I want. I mean…” He shrugged. “I still have the same job. I like it. But it’s not like I’m quitting. I only work a couple days a week anyway. So this week it’ll be about you getting through this test and next week it’ll be about settling you into the next section, making sure you’re on track. And settling you in here. Making sure you’re feeling comfortable. And after that… I think you should start coming to meet me there the days I work. As long as you get out of practice on time.”
“So you can babysit me?” My sarcasm was broken, and that came out sounding like a real question.
“Yeah. And because I’d like to have you there. So I can help you if you need it. Make sure you’re focusing and getting things done. And we have lots of snacks. Donuts.”
I snorted, but then I game it some mildly legit consideration, seeing as how it was exactly what I wanted. Having him all to myselfandhim making me come with him. I did like it when he made me do things.
“What do you do there exactly?” I asked him. “My teachers tried to get me to go there in grade school, but I never did.”
“Mostly I’m just available. I help with homework, but a lot of kids are just there because they can’t pay attention in class, or they need somewhere to go after school. Sometimes I just hang out. Listen to them talk about teachers they don’t like. Pretend I understand baseball. Sometimes… we do flashcards,” he said carefully, like he thought I might get pissed off again. “Or games. Or draw.”
“Alternative education.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think you should… blow off those kids just to help me.”
“I’m not blowing anyone off, they’ll still get what they need. They’ll get what you should have had, and everyone will be fine if I step away a few days. It’s time for it to be about helpingyou.Youcome first right now.You’remost important. You weren’t being a baby. You told me what you need, and that’s a big fucking deal. I’m going to give it to you. Always.”
That was not a voice you argued with, I knew that much. My ass was literally tingling, reminding me Daddy was in charge, and honestly, I didn’twantto argue. Did it make me feel bad and greedy and selfish to hoard all his attention for a little while? Yeah, a little. But I guess I was the kind of asshole who liked that.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Can you eat dessert?”he asked me once he’d cleared away all the dishes and loaded up the dishwasher, making me sit and watch again instead of letting me help. Seemed like it was on purpose though, making me sit on that chair that was really getting uncomfortable just a little longer.
“Seriously?” I wanted to laugh, but my stomach didn’t seem to know what the joke was, going allpick me, pick melike it was still empty. God, I hatedwantingso much in front of him, even when he made it so easy.
“I have ice cream. Just vanilla,” he added, like an apology, like I was picky.
He didn’t wait for an answer, probably would have ignored me if I’d said no anyway, and I sat there and watched as he pulled out a little carton from the freezer— the expensive mini-tub kind, not the dollar ninety-nine block. He scooped circles into two little bowls and walked them over to the couch, sitting them on the coffee table. Then he sat down and got comfortable, spreading his legs and patting his thigh, and curled his fingers, calling me over.
I knew what he wanted, and it just seemed so fucking ridiculous— laying on the goddamn couch together, eating ice cream. And I guess I was all in somewhere, because I was up on my feet before I even gave my body the go-ahead.
