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“The one we were looking at before. For people with disabilities.” Taylor turned the box over in his hands, his brow furrowed. “I don’t remember seeing this on the website.”
Peyton snorted a little. “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I would have remembered some sci-fi dick sleeve.”
Taylor’s mouth stretched into a long grin. “So would I.”
Flushing, Peyton backed up toward the bed and sat down hard, dragging a hand down his face. “Who the hell sent it? This is so embarrassing.”
Taylor shifted a little closer and reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze. “There’s nothing embarrassing about taking charge of yourself. You know this. But,” he added, then hesitated for a second, “it’s kind of a weird gift.”
Peyton swallowed thickly and looked at the note in Taylor’s hand. “Yeah. Is it signed or anything?”
Taylor shook his head and handed it over, and Peyton stared at the writing. Something about the letters triggered something in him like déjà vu. Almost like he’d seen it before. It didn’t have anything on the note that gave away anything personal though. It was just basic instructions.
Please sanitize thoroughly before use. Do not submerge in over five feet of water. For any questions, comments, or concerns, please call the customer service number on the back of the box.
And yet…
And yet.
Peyton’s thumb ran over the words as something warm settled in his chest.
Honestly, in the end, he felt like a fool for how long it took him considering the amount of time he spent staring at those block letters. Taylor was busy messing with the box when it hit Peyton, and it was the sheer shock of it all that had him jumping to his feet.
“Peyt…”
“I need to get to work,” he said in a rush. A lie.
Taylor’s brows furrowed. “Okay? Well…I’ll get those boxes, and I can come back if you want company or—”
“I’m good,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual. His chest was thrumming with the need to get Taylor the fuck out of his house, but he didn’t want to be any more obvious than he already was. He made himself take several deep breaths as he and Taylor left the toy behind on his bed and headed for the kitchen.
Peyton pasted on a grimacing smile as he loaded his best friend up, then he promised to call him later.
“If you figure out who the hell sent it,” Taylor started.
Peyton nodded. “For sure.” Another lie.
He waited with his ear pressed to the door until he heard the sounds of total silence, then he rushed back to his kitchen and pulled open his utility drawer. Amongst old sauce packets, random wall screws, and some paper-wrapped chopsticks—he found it.
He found the note that he told himself to throw away a thousand times. The note with that exact same handwriting on it.
What part of NOT INTERESTED is confusing for you?
Dear God, it couldn’t be. It could not be.
Except it was. It was most definitely the exact same handwriting as Hudson. It was the same sharp edge in the E, and the fierce line in the T, and…and hell. It was possible that two total strangers had identical handwriting, but he knew better.
His throat burned and he refused to believe that Hudson had done this as a way of shaming him, but he also didn’t understand. He couldn’tpossiblyunderstand why Hudson had sent him that thing. Not just that it was goddamn confusing, but who thehellsent their neighbor a dildo? Was that really the takeaway that Hudson had gotten from their conversations?
Without really thinking, Peyton marched into his room, shoved the toy back into the box, then stepped out of his front door and into the late evening air. His feet made a loud thud on Hudson’s ramp as he approached the door, and his finger shook as it smashed the bell.
There was a long, empty silence as he waited for any sort of noise. Then the doorbell started speaking.
“Peyton? Is everything okay?”
Peyton startled, always forgetting people had those talking camera doorbells. “Are you home?” he asked, tucking the box higher into his armpit to shield it from view.
“I’m literally around the corner. Are you in danger? I can unlock my door if you—”
