Page 16 of Strange Lad

Of course.

See you soon.

See you soon.

I let my phone slip from my fingers, knowing I need to get dressed and get out of bed, but I can’t seem to do it yet. There’s no life in my limbs; the energy zapped from my blood. I fall into some strange haze, and before I know it, Jorge is here, knocking at my door, and I’m still in my fucking briefs.

Shooting upright, I fumble around my bed to find the pair of sweats I know I have in here but come up empty.

“Oli?” he calls.

“Coming!” I yell back, panicking now.

We’ve never been this exposed around each other before. Not even shirtless. I’d wear a T-shirt at the gym and rinse off at home. He would do the same.

Something about it makes me feel exposed and raw, making my skin crawl. Like I’m tempting a wild animal with a bloody carcass, and if I let my guard down even for a second, it’ll rip me apart. I cannotopen my door without clothes. But then I remember he has a key.

He has a key.

No, no, no.

“It’s okay, I got it,” he chirps happily, shoving through my front door.

I watch in horror as he pauses at the threshold, eyes locked on me while I’m on my knees, holding my blanket in search of mypants. With all the nonchalance in the world, he comes inside, shuts the door, and ignores my nudity. Instead of gawking like I assumed he would, he treats me like I’m invisible and goes to the rats.

Relief swirls inside me, along with something bitter like rejection. It’s a fucked up combination that I have no desire to go into right now. So, I just hustle out of my bed, rip open a drawer, and put on the first things I grab.

A tank top with too big armholes, and a pair of orange basketball shorts.

Grimacing and raking a hand through my hair, I wander over to him, keeping a healthy distance, and clear my throat. “Better?” he asks, like he fuckingknows. Does he?

Shit, would things change if he did?

“Yes,” I rasp, throat dry from the hours of panting on my bed, crippled by some fucking episode.

“I was thinking,” he starts, “let’s do something different. Maybe go hit up the beach?”

“The beach?” I repeat.

He nods. “Yeah. It’s warm out, and I really want a cheese stick.” His dark brown eyes flutter at me like he does when he wants something. I love that look. It’s one of my favorites.

“Okay.” I offer him a small smile, and his olive skin darkens around his cheeks.

Oh, that’s new.

Wetting his lips, he briefly flicks his gaze over me and then giggles. “Those shorts are god awful.”

“Nyx bought them when I got out of rehab.” I shrug. “I’ll change.”

“Sure thing, now let me play with the bebes.” He makes grabby fingers at my rats before opening the doors and snatching Turbo out of his hammock.

Everywhere I look, people are touching.

It’s not that I’m not aware of how strange I am compared to everyone else, but it’s getting harder to ignore. Admittedly, I don’t let Jorge often drag me out of the house. I guess it's because I prefer to keep us in our little bubble of easy companionship. Out here, there’s no mistaking the weird tension bouncing between us. It’s been there from the beginning.

A strange dance around each other while also never wanting to stop.

Eventually, one of us will grow tired of it, though.

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