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EIGHT
Nate
Nestledinto the cushions on my bed, legs curled under me as I grip my current read with both hands, I feel my heart race and my chest tighten.
It’s not like I haven’t read this book before—far too many times to count really—but it still gets me every time. There is just something about Jane Austen’s style of writing inPride and Prejudicethat hits me square in the feels.
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here, reading all about Mr. Darcy and his arrogant ways, but I know Benji left me to go and do a complete security check a while ago, and I’ve been lost in these words ever since.
Reading and cooking fill my soul, offering an escape from the crazy reality that surrounds me, coaxing me through life as I use every ounce of my effort to simply survive. Waking up and breathing this morning didn’t feel as harsh as yesterday morning, or the one before that.
I don’t know whether I owe that gratitude to the comfort of the safe house or the man sharing the space with me. I know it’s the latter deep down. My pulse quickens in my ears as my cock twitches in my pants, only confirming the sentiment.
Benji is… well, I don’t really fucking know how to describe it. Yesterday was exhilarating and exhausting all at once. And although I may have picked the book up to hide away from the entirely different situations involving Benji and Wade, I know I’ve continued to read and sink further into the sheets because I don’t know how my current reality will be affected when he returns.
When he left, it was with a heavy sigh and a simple grumble about the security. Nothing more, nothing less. But the longer he’s been gone, the more uncertain I find myself.
Swiping a hand down my face, I glance out of the open window, feeling a slight chill in the air before I opt to dive under the sheets beneath me. I get myself comfortable once more, exhaling my stresses away and starting the next chapter with knowledge of what is to come on the pages ahead, but still attempting to read them with fresh eyes.
It takes me far longer than usual to get to the bottom of the page, my brain spiraling with my thoughts and emotions surrounding Benji once more, completely distracting me from the happiness I was hoping to absorb from the book.
Fuck.
My eyelashes brush against my cheekbones as I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I think the truth to myself for the first time this morning.
I like him. I more than like him. Yet the fear of his rejection and my worry that he regrets last night sits heavy in my heart. I’ve had one night stands before, but shit, last night was more than just one time. The stop for cake only fuelled us further before we eventually passed out.
He was intoxicating and I was on the brink of delirium, basking in his mere presence as our worlds collided again and again.
But what now?
Do I say thanks and continue as normal? Do I express my desire to feel his weight above me once more? Or do I bury myself under these covers for all of eternity, never to broach the subject again?
As appealing as the last option is, it’s not what I want. I just need to grow a backbone and find the words I want to say. It feels too soon to declare the connection brewing between us as anything more than passing, a fling. But fuck, it feels like more than that. My only slight worry is everything happening between us being situational.
Like, in any other place, at any other time, he wouldn’t even glance my way.
Fuck.
I’m really not doing myself any favors here with my thought process. Blinking my eyes open once more, I settle on the book before me, letting Jane Austen suck me in. With my thoughts firmly locked away at the back of my mind, I read every word with excitement, until the smell of coffee hits my senses and I perk up like a little meerkat.
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I glance toward the door, only to catch movement out of the corner of my eye, jolting in surprise when I find Benji sitting on the bed beside me, waving the nectar of God near my face.
“Holy fuck, when did you come in here?” I blurt, palm flat against my chest as I feel my heart race. The grin on his face melts me into a puddle, my jaw slacking with lust as he winks.
“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” he replies with a shrug, the teasing in his tone sending another jolt through my body, only this time it goes straight to my dick.
I don’t stand a chance against this man. Not one. Which only renders me breakable at his touch.
When I gape at him for too long, unable to come up with a witty response, he nods down at the book in my hand as he offers me the mug. Taking the deliciousness from his hands, I take a sip as he runs his finger over the edge of the page, curiosity pinching his brows together.
“Is thatPride and Prejudice?” he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice as he looks at the book with wonder flashing in his eyes.
“Yeah, did you read it in school?” There’s no way he read it for any other reason, surely.
A wistful smile takes over his face. “No, my mother used to read it to me when I was a child.” His voice is soft, like the words are slipping past his lips without him even realizing, before a darkness seems to shutter in his eyes.
“Hey, where did you just go?” I immediately regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, knowing that’s a personal question, and I’ve likely just crossed a line. Maybe I should have gone with the inquiry as to why someone would consider reading this to a child, but something tells me that would have been worse.
