“Yeah?”
“Whitman noticed, even. Just…shit gets to me now. More than before.” He frowned. “Never really meant to be…like this. I took on one sponsor and then one became two. Two became more. And one morning I woke up and looked around and there were all these people depending on me. And I figured that was just how things were. But now…”
He shook his head.
“It’s like a door opened or something. Everything that used to stay on the outside hits me real hard these days.”
He sounded so confused by that. Like the reemergence of his feelings after years of numbness was a surprising betrayal. Then he leaned and bumped my shoulder with his.
“Not all bad, though,” he said shyly, and my heart soared.
“I hit you hard?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Oh, Felix,” he said. “You have no idea.”
I swallowed hard.
“Um. So. Taking a step back. You’re going to, you think?”
“Already did. We’ll see…”
“You can always do more,” I said quickly.
He nodded again, looking a little lost.
“Are you…okay? Do you feel…How do you feel?”
“Guilty,” he said. “Because I know I could be doing more and I’m choosing not to.”
“Yeah, but, doing more before was hurting you.”
He just stared at me, like that was an insignificant point.
“Listen, I have to tell you something. I think, uh, you’ll probably be mad.”
“Felix,” he said slowly. “Are you scared of me?”
“What? No! Why?”
“You keep saying I’m going to be mad or trying to see how mad I am. No matter how mad I got at you, I’d never hurt you.”
“No, God, sorry. I know. I mean, I’m not scared of you scared of you. I’m…I don’t like people to be mad at me. And I don’t want you to…not want to be with me when we were doing so good with this conversation.”
He brushed fingers over the tangled ends of my hair.
“I want to be with you,” he said simply.
“Okay, good. Um. IdidaterriblethingandlookedatyourjournalsImsorry!”
“Uh. Pardon?”
“Oh God. I, uh. After you left. The other day. I got all—you know. And I was…I found your journals and I looked in them, okay? I’m sorry.”
I had squeezed my eyes shut at some point, and now I cracked one open just enough to see Dane’s face.
But he didn’t look mad. He looked embarrassed.
“Oh.” He ran his hand through his nonexistent hair.
“Yeah. I was…” I cringed. “I was looking for something you’d written about me. ’Cuz I felt like you didn’t care and I was hoping maybe you’d, like, secretly written love letters to me or something? Oh God, I’m so mortified. I’m really sorry.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t keep a journal. I just…when I can’t sleep, sometimes I copy things. Calms me down, I guess.”
He wouldn’t look at me.
“Dane, I’m sorry. Are you upset that I snooped? You should be. Of course you are.”
Now he looked at me, vaguely exasperated.
“Felix. Stop telling me how I should feel. I know I’m not that good at expressing my feelings,” he added sheepishly. “But I assure you I have my own.”
“?’Course, right, sorry.”
“The journals aren’t a secret. Just a little embarrassing.”
He paused and closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry you didn’t find a love letter. Fuck, I wish you had. I’m so sorry I let you think I didn’t…didn’t care about you when I do.”
His eyes opened, and I could see all the words he couldn’t say.
“I do, Felix.”
“You promise?” I whispered.
“I fucking swear,” he breathed.
“Me too,” I said. “Damn, we’re doing a really good job with this whole talking thing.”
Dane chuckled.
“Also, can I just say,” I went on. “Like as a conclusion to my apology. The other day, I was…insecure. And sad. And I just wanted to be with you. But you had an obligation and you honored it, and I respect that. I really want you to know that I respect the work you do. Or don’t do. Anyway, I wish I could’ve been a little less, um…bratty. And I wish you could have told me we’d talk later instead of just leaving.”
“Me too.”
I smiled.
“You don’t like when I’m bratty?” I teased.
His lip twitched.
“Well. Actually…”
I slid into his lap and put my hands on his shoulders. I was pretty sure this conversation was about to be extremely over.
“Actually…?”
“Not, uh, in that context, no. But I really—” He slid a hand up my spine and cupped the nape of my neck. I shivered. “Really.” He stroked the sensitive skin there with his thumb and a shudder of lust ran down my spine. “Really like it when you tell me what you want.” He leaned in close and spoke next to my ear. “When you tell me what to do.” In my other ear: “When you beg for it.”
“Oh God.”
I was instantly hard and wanting. I’d never gotten turned on so fast in my life.
“Dane, I—please, I—”
I pressed my erection against his stomach and whined.
“What, sweetheart? What do you want?”