Page 17 of Until Him

Maybe this guy should just stay a mystery…but I had his cock down my throat yesterday, and my dick gets hard when I think of him, so it’s becoming a little personal on my end.

Last night, I looked up that poem he has on his side. It was by some lady named Mary Oliver. The poem is about overcoming intense hurt or grief and becoming stronger because of it. I’m scared to ask him more about it, though. I’m still surprised he told me what the tattoo said in the first place.

I think Theo likes to remain a mystery.

I grab the bag of takeout containers and walk out of the hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant near Theo’s place. I bought a ton of food because I’m hungry, and this guy eats jelly for dinner, apparently. Maybe that’s why he’s so thin. I could probably lift him into my arms easily. I could wear him as a backpack.

I push those thoughts away as I drive to his place.

My phone rings from the cupholder, and I glance down at it.

Mom.

Fuck, I forgot to call her back.

I quickly fumble for the phone and press the green button.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, and my heart jumps a little.

“Hey, Logan. I was just calling because it’s been a while since we chatted and I miss you. And so does dad. You know how he is.”

My ribs are going to snap with how tight my chest feels.

“Yeah, um, I’ve just been busy,” I say.

“I know, I totally know. I just…I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I know what she’s referring to, and no, I’m not okay. Not really. But I don’t want to go there either. I’ve been avoiding my family for a reason.

“I’m fine. Doing really good,” I say. “I’m actually on my way to meet my tutor for chemistry.”

“Awesome. So glad to hear you found help.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I would love for you to come home and visit if you want.”

“Yeah, I would like that,” I lie.

It just rings false to my ears, and she knows it too but neither of us addresses it. Avoidance must be another curse on the family.

We never like to bring up the stuff that makes us uncomfortable. We’d rather live our lives walking on eggshells. We love our fucking eggs. My parents even have chickens.

As soon as we hang up, I park in front of Theo’s apartment complex, and then I’m striding into his apartment, feeling kind of dumb for bringing all this extra food with me. But whatever, this dude needs to eat.

I pull all the takeout boxes out of the bag, setting them on his counter in a nice little row.

“I had a long practice and was starving. Brought some for you too,” I say, opening each of the drawers in his tiny kitchen before finding the forks.

“Why are you bringing me food?” he asks, seemingly offended that I brought something other than myself and my chem book.

I just roll my eyes. “So, you’ll let me suck your dick and drink your come, but sharing a meal is too much?”

He blinks at me, the pencil stilling between his fingers. “Fine,” he says in a clipped tone, grabbing a fork, opening one of the containers, and peering inside.

He seems to like what he sees because he stabs a piece of meat and shoves it into his mouth. His eyelids flutter a bit, and I bite back a smirk.

The asshole was hungry, I knew it.

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