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“Like spending time with him and my uncle, talking about cars. Like these special dinners Dad used to make for me. They weren’t really special, but they were fun because we did them together. It was just pickles and cheese and stuff like that all chopped up on a plate, but we always ate it on the floor while watching a movie. No one does that sort of thing for me anymore.”
I’d make her the best chattanooga board, or whatever it was called, my thirty bucks could buy. “Are you allowed to stay out past curfew?” I asked. “Do we have to get written permission or something?”
Karen looked at me, her smile faltering. The gap in the front of her teeth was on full display because her lips just naturally stayed open, and when her green sunglasses slid down her nose, her eyes pinned me with confusion. “Why would you request that?”
“On Friday nights, we all go to my parents’ place for dinner. It’s horrible because my mom can’t cook worth a shit and she’s a fucking mess at the moment, but you could come. Maybe if we request it in advance?” Might actually be a nicefuck youto my mom to show her that we had the ability to help a kid. She sure as shit barely had that ability.
“I… okay. Thank you.” She looked like she was about to cry, and I felt a bit shit about that. I’d never known what to do with a crying chick, especially a fifteen-year-old one, but then, in true Karen form, she buzzed just as much as my edging buzzed me. “I have an idea! If we get permission, maybe I can send you to the grocery store, and I can cook Friday dinner! Give your mom a break.”
“You cook?” Shit. Karen made me feel pretty pathetic about my upbringing. Maybe I kept some people alive and made sure my best friend was happy, but Karen had a worse life than I did, and she knew basic skills I failed at. I’d need to up my game.
“Yeah, some things. Do you think your mom would be okay with it?”
I barked out a laugh. “You’d be doing all of us a favour. Write down your grocery list, and I’ll get it.”
* * *
“What’re you doing?”Nate asked, smelling like cigarettes and minty gum as he walked in from the back deck. “Something wrong with the kitchen?” He rubbed berry-scented hand lotion all over himself to cover the smoky smell.
“Can this even be called a kitchen?!” I threw my arms wide, pissed about our non-kitchen. “It’s got a sink, a coffeepot, and a microwave.”
“And mould,” Nate added. He put his hand on the small, used-to-be-white fridge, which was now more of a shitty yellow tone. “This is no place for your dream fridge, Xav. I’ve been thinking about it.”
I looked at him. I hated wearing shirts and socks, but Nate usually wore both. Mostly socks. All the time because he had a foot fear. But tonight, he was also bare-chested, a bit shiny from either oil or sweat, and had a few mosquito bites on his hip. His blond hair poked out from the sides of his Garron Township hat, and his hip cocked out while he stood like a model against the fridge. The sweatpants he wore were a light grey, faded even lighter from time and wear, and they… they showed the perfect outline of his dick in the front. I licked my lips.
“Thinking about what?”Like, since when did I wanna ride a dick so bad?I wasn’t joking when I said I lived and breathed bottom vibes. In all my sexy musings, it was him railing into me, fucking me so much better than life fucked me, filling me so full I’d never be without him. I craved it. Wanted it so bad that this shitty kitchen and the yellow fridge stopped existing.
“That this place isn’t good enough for your dream fridge.”
“You remember my dream fridge?” I asked, smiling like an idiot.
“Hell yes. We’re getting it. But I want you to be able to put it somewhere better, Xav. We live in a fucking storage room…”
I reached out and grabbed his hand because I couldn’t help myself. I’d held back from touching him for so long that it felt like getting my quota was a priority. I pulled his back to my chest, our hands linked at our sides, staring at the fridge with a puddle under the bottom.
“I want the fridge. What do you want, Nate?” I asked, lips on his neck.
He shivered. “I think I want the house. And you in it.”
I brought our linked hands up his bare abs and chest, touching him and holding him and feeling equally soft and hard about it. “How the fuck are we gonna afford a house?”
“Maybe a trailer,” he suggested. “Would you ever move back?”
I spun him, pressing his back to the fridge and leaning against him. “To Garron Park?” His blue eyes met mine, full of vulnerability. “Were you afraid to ask me that?” I laughed.
“Yes. We worked so hard to get out of there, and now we live here, and I don’t hate it, but…”
“But it’s a storage room,” I agreed. “Can I kiss you?”
Nate dropped my hands and pulled on the back of my neck. “I want you totake, Xavi. Take and take and take everything you want from me because I’ve been dying to give it to you for a fucking year.”
His hat fell to the floor when I took what I wanted. Him. He was what I wanted. Physically, emotionally, life-y. I’d never connected with anyone as well as I connected with Nate, and a desperation to make it something more than friendship filled me with an urgency to prove to him that I was worthy of being his.
His breath panted out choppy and warm, but his tongue licked mine, instinctively making our bodies rub together. His back might have been against the fridge, but it was Nate who pulled me against him, rocking his hips to taunt exactly what I wanted. But I knew my boy. He was a great tease, a poor executioner. If I wanted him to act, I’d have to force his hand.
His lips grinned against mine, his fingers tightening on my hips. Such a tease. “I see it now,” he said, cock frotting against mine. “The bottom vibes.”
Fuck yes. “Told you I’m a bottom.”
