Chapter Twelve
Jake
Since the night of the gallery opening, I’ve had more energy than usual, even while feeling more tired. And it might go back further than that, to the aftermath of an ugly accident and a recovery that was buoyed by promises that made me crave things I never believed I’d taste. I’d physically hurt then, just like I carry a sleepy ache with me now, but I’m humming with a long dormant need I’d missed more than I’d imagined.
I want Darren close to me again—as close as we have been a few times already—and recent chaos at work hasn’t allowed for that. We check in with each other when there’s a good enough reason for it, and I’ve stayed up a little too late the nights he’s teased me. He still has the advantage of experience and a filthy mouth, but I think there have been a few times I’ve surprised him with a risqué text or two.
I hope so.
I’m having fun, and after the night we shared a shower and I bent him over his bathroom sink, I think we’ve both needed the reminder of silly, sexy things. Or I have, anyway—I assume he’s been busy with silly, sexy friends in the couple of weeks we’ve been apart—and on a Sunday morning when our text thread has been quiet for a few nights, I realize I miss him. I wait until close to noon before I poke at him to see what happens.
Are you awake yet?
Darren replies quickly.For about 30 mins already
Busy night at the bar?
It was. Everyone loves a saturday night
Busy night after the bar?
You really want me to tell you about the nights I get fucked after work?
I sigh. I guess it’s what I was asking.You’ve never kept it to yourself have you?
Nope. Except for the night of adrian’s party and your return from palm springs
He’s being plenty loud without having to shout, and I can hear him just fine. I’m slow about saying anything else, even though I’d texted him for a reason, and I almost wonder whether he’ll go on about his weekend. He doesn’t, and I type again.
I was thinking about making dinner and spending some time in the spa later. Care to join me?
You don’t have to work tomorrow morning?
I do. But I still need to eat dinner. And relax.
And have dessert?
That could be part of the relaxing.
What are you planning to eat?
That question feels like trouble, and I dodge the innuendo.Curry spicy enough for fans of the scoville scale.
Lol. Do you have more of lucy’s wine?
Lots of it.
So you’re planning to take advantage of me
Or I’m asking you to take advantage of me.
Darren starts to type too many things too many times, and the butterflies I feel make me fifteen again. In the end, what I read is probably far from where he started.
I’ll be there in time to help with dinner. And the rest of it
Just like that, I’m close to taking a few steps backward when I freeze instead. I don’t want his help with dinner, and for all the honesty I’ve demanded, I don’t know how to tell him that. It’s easier to adjust the plans on my end, and it’s all I do for now. Darren knows about sacred things, and maybe I can admit something about them later.
With hours to kill, I head into my office to handle a few work emails and review notes for a meeting I’ve got first thing tomorrow. Having an early morning responsibility will keep me from asking Darren to stay long, and it’s a buffer that keeps me from worrying that I’ve invited him here for something that feels a lot more like a date. The night at the tapas restaurant, we were just friends. The night of the gallery opening, we were a lot more than that. Combining the two into dinner and dessert leaves me staring at the ceiling for too long.