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“Let’s just grab sandwiches for dinner, you want?” he asked me as we got closer to the end of the street, closer to something that smelled fucking unreal, and I nodded, even though I was edging to the end of my comfort zone when it came to having him spoil me so much.
I followed him over to a corner spot that looked like nothing, was anactualhole in the wall— just a sliding window with a kitchen hidden inside, and some tiny tables on the sidewalk where he definitely wouldn’t fit. Another one of those places where I didn’t know how to act, where I stuck out a little too much, and I got so uncomfortable so fast I couldn’t actually focus my eyes to read the menu bolted into the brick.
It didn’t matter, because he leaned against the wall and the window slid open and he bent down and smiled at some invisible person inside and said, “Lemme get two number threes and two number eights.”
He nodded at something and shook his head at something else I couldn’t hear over the street noise and then someone saidAbout ten minutesand handed him a slip out the window.
“You’ll like this,” he told me, coming over to where I was standing a few feet away, and I liked it already, him making decisions for me, and I guess that was supposed to be offensive or something, but I wished he’d just makeallmy decisions, because that shit was exhausting.
We slow walked down the block a few steps, killing time, giving attention to windows I usually would have ignored. An art place that filled with paintings that looked like the ones in his pace— bright and pretty cool, but not actuallyofanything, just squares and squiggles and shit. A place selling sparkly jewelry that blinded you ten different ways when the streetlights and the shop lights and strings of hipster twinkle lights and lanterns from thirty different places hit it. A shoe store selling sick, pricey ass sneakers with thick soles and bright white laces I stared at a little too long, that made my feet hurt more just by looking at them, my shit so worn down my shins hurt just from taking the sidewalk.
“You like those?” Caleb asked me, and I nodded without thinking.
“Look like they’d leave some hot tread marks,” I added, like that’s what I’d been thinking, and it wasn’t any lie once I said it. The sound they’d make if he smacked my ass with those would be satisfying as hell, I knew it. Something that new and hard and solid, bet it would ache and sting and leave a nasty bruise like a paddle, and I swear I couldfeelit, how tender my ass would be after, how I’d sit through class half hard for hours like I had today, thinking about getting spanked every goddamn time I moved in my chair. Yeah, I was definitely thinking about that now, about him bending me over, taking everything out of my hands and making mehisall night long.
Thank god they called out his receipt number just then, because I swear I was about to reach out and grab his hand I suddenly wanted him so fucking much.
* * *
It was some straight up agonycarrying home the giant paper sack of food he handed me, and I wrapped my fingers so tight around the handle my knuckles cracked. It was fucking heavy too, like enough food to feed a whole family, and I really was not impressed by the little voice popping up in my head to say that’s what we were.
Except— and this was truly fucking pathetic— he sat through my whole goddamn practice and then took me for ice cream before he brought me home to feed me, so I guess that was more family than I’d ever had.
Felt kind of smug to be adding to the cyclone of food smells when we climbed the stairs this time— fried chicken and chili and…
“What is this?” I asked him, lifting up the bag, realizing I hadn’t asked, didn’t even care, I’d have eaten whatever he gave me anyway, but this was making my fucking jaw ache from not chewing already.
“Italian beef with fries and ham and cheese with chips. You don’t have to eat both,” he laughed when my eyes got wide. “But maybe you’ll get hungry later.”
Italian beef was definitely what I’d smelled all up and down the block, and I was dying to tear into it by the time he opened the door. Just like he was dying to tear into me, I guess, because he took the bag right out of my hand the second we were inside, dropping it on the desk and grabbing me and kissing me hard. My stomach shut up for a second and my lips took over, kissing back, getting rougher, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and put my tongue into it.
“I’ve been waiting way too long to do that,” he told me, and I felt it in his voice, that deep, gnawing, growling hungerfor me,and god, it felt good.
“How long?”
“Since we walked out the door this morning. Since study hall. Since practice. Since you sat there licking ice cream off your lip like a fucking wet dream.”
I smirked. “Good answer.”
“I bet that ass of yours could use some attention after squirming around all day thinking about me.” He reached down and grabbed me, pulling me up on my toes and pulling a whine out of my mouth.
“It really could.”
“Can we eat in bed?” he asked me. “Or is that no good for your germ thing?”
“I don’t really have a germ thing,” I told him, embarrassed. “I just… don’t like certain things touching other certain things without… Like that spoon. From last night. The one you—”
“I threw it away,” he said, interrupting before I could ask.
“You threw itaway?”
He raised an eyebrow. “If you don’t want to use a toothbrush that’s tangentially touched your ass, I really didn’t think you’d want to eat cereal with a spoon that actually had. Even if I washed it.”
“You didn’t have to throw it away.”
He laughed. “It’s just a spoon. I have plenty of spoons.”
So I officially was never going to stop being blown away by the weird shit he did for me, I guess, because that for real felt like a goddamn valentine, and I didn’t even know why. I’d never really been in any kind of position for anyone to take my weird issues seriously, and he just did, first chance he got.
