I fight back the tears wetting my eyes because I know if he sees them, he’ll stop talking. I focus on keeping his back showered with warm, sudsy water because that is something I can control.
“So I was just hanging out around town, just kind of walking around, messing around in some parks when this guy comes up and sits next to me on this bench. I remember the bench was red, down by the minor league baseball stadium, and faced the little tributary that runs down to the ocean. So he just sits next to me—no book, no magazine, no phone or anything. Nothing.”
“What did he want?” I ask.
“He sits there a while until I start to get up thinking this guy’s a creep, you know? Then he says his name is Jerry Percy. I tell him I’m Dominic and he asks why I’m not in school. I tell him I skipped, that he could call my parents or the school but neither of them would care so not to waste his time.”
I have to
close my eyes to keep from crying at the thought of a little Dom sitting and feeling so alone. My throat squeezes so tight that I can’t answer or show I’m invested in the conversation. It’s impossible.
“He gets up,” Dom continues, “and I think he’s going to go call the cops or something, but he comes back with a bag. He sits again and pulls out a sandwich. It’s ham and tomatoes and lettuce and I don’t remember what else, I guess it doesn’t matter, and he handed it to me. Said his wife always packed him more than he could eat anyway.” He smiles sadly. “I ate the fuck out of that. Then he gave me a baggie of chips and a soda, and by this time, he could’ve kidnapped me and I would’ve gone willingly,” he chuckles. “So when he asked if I wanted to hang out at his gym for the rest of the afternoon, I said I did.”
“Percy’s,” I whisper. “That’s your gym now.”
“That’s my gym now.”
I have so many more questions, but I’m afraid to ask.
Before I can respond, we hear the front door opening and Ryder’s cries as Nate carries him past the bathroom and into their bedroom at the end of the hall.
We both exhale and then chuckle at our simultaneous reaction.
“Guess there goes your night cap, unless you can do it without screaming this time,” he winks.
“When is he moving out again?” I pout. “I should’ve made that a condition of my loan.”
“You’re a sucky loan shark.”
“I can’t be good at everything.” I stand, grabbing a towel off the makeshift rack and handing it to him.
He stands and dries himself off quickly before wrapping it around his waist. Before he steps out of the tub, he takes a deep breath. “Hey, you want to go stay the night at your house tonight?”
“You mean you’ll stay? With me? At my house?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I stammer. “I mean, yeah. Yes. Yes, I want you to come stay at my house tonight.”
He laughs at my reaction, stepping onto the linoleum. Bending so our noses are touching he whispers, “Then let’s get our shit and go before I make you start screaming right here.”
Dominic
THERE’S SOMETHING TO BE SAID for calculating the thread count in your sheets. That and sleeping in the bed of a beautiful woman.
The room glows, the all-white décor almost blinding, as I open my eyes. My body feels rested, lots of the aches I wake up with daily in my legs and hips aren’t as noticeable, and I wonder vaguely if maybe that means I’m dead. Then I look to my right and see Camilla asleep next to me and realize if I’m dead, I’m okay with that.
Last night wasn’t the best sleep I’ve ever had, but it wasn’t the worst. Once we got here late and fucked ourselves senseless, I had a hard time falling asleep. It was well past three before my eyes finally shut, but they did. They don’t always.
Cam’s on her side, facing me. Her hair is a wild mess against the pristine sheets. I glance at the clock, then back to her. Then back to the clock. Then to the ceiling.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I count to three and then turn to my side. Running a fingertip from her forehead down the side of her face, her neck, and over her shoulder, she wakes up under my touch.
Her lashes flutter as she opens her eyes. “Hey,” she says, her sleepy voice killing me.
“Good morning.”
“No breakfast in bed?”