It’s a fear that I just tasted the best fucking thing on this planet I’ll ever know. And when it comes time to leave this magical place, I may never know it again. And how am I supposed to put any of that into words?
“Perfect,” I say, staring at the ceiling.
Chapter 14 - Kent
I open my eyes.
Soft breathing in my ear startles me. I turn my head to find Jonah cuddled up to my side, his face next to mine, eyes closed, far away in a dream.
I nearly forgot he stayed the night.
It’s been a long time since I woke up with someone in my bed—a very long time.
There’s a single, thin line of sunlight peeking through the curtains, painting a bright stripe across Jonah’s left ass cheek and lower back. We’re about one or two articles of clothing shy of being naked. Despite taking a quick shower together last night (thankfully, we actually had running water and it was warm, as it has a tendency to fucking flake at the worst possible time) we clearly sweat a lot in our sleep; a glossy sheen covers his back, and the side of my body he’s clutching feels nearly drenched.
I can’t explain why exactly, but I love it. Being messed up with him. Being close to him. Feeling him all over me, and having me all over him.
I don’t even care how gross that sounds.
But I also have to take a leak so badly, my morning wood could pop a hole in the mattress if I’m not careful. So as carefully as I can manage, I slip out from underneath the peacefully slumbering Jonah, then tiptoe out of the room and slip into the bathroom, where I sigh my relief in front of the toilet, peeing my brains out.
It’s after I wash my hands that I hear clanking in the kitchen. Tiptoeing past my bedroom, I find my mom lazily shoving eggs around in a pan with a spatula. “Morning, baby,” she says without looking. “I see you got yourself a bedtime snack last night. Did you finally end your no-sex-with-tourists strike? Are you fun again?”
I roll my eyes. “He’s not a snack, Mom.”
She chuckles to herself. “Damn liar. Hey, get me some of that garlic powder, would you? It’s in the cabinet over there, right by your head.”
I pull open the cabinet. “He’s not a snack,” I repeat as I snatch the garlic seasoning off the shelf and bring it to her. “His name’s Jonah. He’s cool as shit. And after a long night of showing him the island, he crashed here.”
“No need to get in your business. Go and screw all the boys in town if you want, have all the fun you need, you’re only twenty-five once, right?”
I smirk. “Right. Though he’s twenty-one.”
“Ooh, cradle-robbing. Just kidding, you’re all the same damned age in my eyes. Does this smell off?” she asks as she lifts the pan to inspect something. “I’m making you boys breakfast. Well, tryin’ to.”
“I think maybe I took your advice a little,” I admit as I watch her continue to murder the eggs with the spatula. “I let my guard down, bared my soul a little … Feeling pretty good about this Jonah guy.”
“That’s how you should feel about any guy. Even the ones you say wham-bam-thank-you-sir to. Oh, that didn’t rhyme. Is there a gay version of that? Here,” she says with a slap of her hand on the cabinet by her head. “Go set the table. These eggs are a full-time job.”
I’ll assume she means she’s hung over and can’t be trusted with more than one task at once. I pull open the cabinet and grab four sets of plates, assuming Skipper came home at some point last night.
“Nope,” she says. “Five.”
I’m already setting the tiny table, which most certainly can’t fit five. “Huh? Five?”
“Your brother’s coming over.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why’d you invite him, Mom?”
“Oh, I dunno, maybe because he’s my son, he’s family, blah, blah, please stop being so difficult.”
I go for the cups and utensils. “He’s not going to come. I saw him at a hotel last night. I’m pretty sure he was up having an orgy party until four in the morning, probably got wasted as hell, won’t even think about your breakfast invitation until five o’clock tonight …”
“Kent, seriously, it’s too early for this whiny shit. I feel like I already need a cigarette listening to this.”
“Mom, he literally had whipped cream and a cherry on his dick last night.”
“What the hell, Kent? No mother needs to picture her son like that!” She shudders, then squints at me over her shoulder suddenly. “Wait. How do you know all this?”
Just then, Skip slumps out of the hallway rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He gives me a nod of acknowledgement before plopping down into a chair at the table and pulling out his phone.