Page 43 of Strange Lad

“Yes. Because that’s what I’m good for. Helping.”

“That isn’t all. You know that isn’t all you’re good for.” I take a few steps closer, searching his face when he scrubs at his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” he admits, looking up through his lashes at me. “I know I don’t bring it up or talk about it, but it does hurt me sometimes thinking that I’m only wanted when I can provide something. A shoulder to cry on, ears to listen, an extra set of hands. I need to be wanted, and I guess I sometimes think I’m not wanted for the right reasons. This isn’t directed at you. I’m just up in my feels.”

He tries to suck back his emotions, but it doesn’t work too well, so I take another few steps. I’m so close to him that Ican feel the heat coming from his body. The thing is, I want to comfort him right now. More so than ever. Maybe it’s because I know he wants that from me—that he wants me in general. But something also has to give. I can’t keep living this way, afraid of my own fucking shadow. Jorge isn’thim. Jorge would never hurt me. Iknowthat so deep in my soul, so why can’t my mind get on board?

“Jorge,” I say, my voice deeper than normal.

His face snaps up to mine. “Y-Yeah?”

“I want to…just…I want to hug you.”

Like a switch flipped, his eyes glitter, and I swear tiny hearts explode out of them. His face rips into a huge grin, his earlier feelings forgotten from one simple admission. And he moves before I’m ready, colliding his chest into my palm. “Stop,” I wheeze.

“Fuck. Fucking duck fuckers. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

I take a step back, shake out my hands and breathe. “I want to hug you, but I need you to not…hug me back. I know it sounds weird.”

His face drops a little, but he straightens his spine and nods. “I got you.”

My heart shoots into overdrive, thumping and shaking. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, Oli. Yes, it’s okay. Have your way with me.”

I bite my lip, swallow hard, and rush him before I can change my mind. My arms curl around his, pinning them to his sides. The way he goes limp makes my heart soar through the anxiety plaguing it. I listen to his calm, content breaths, and the tension expels from both of us. Good god, this is better than it should be. It’s a one-way hug. Something a grandpa would do to a bratty child, but Jorge purrs in my ear. Happy. Satisfied that I’m touching him at all.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Oli. I can’t stop it.”

And then I feel his dick.

The moment shatters, and I scramble away. My hands fly to my head as my lungs cave in. I see spots, and my knees feel like jelly. It was so good. So perfect. And now…

“Fuck you, dick,” Jorge hisses under his breath and adjusts himself while I panic.

“This is why,” I croak, backing up until I’m in the living room. “I thought it’d be okay. That I could—”

“Try it again,” he demands.

“What?” I can’t fuckingbreathe.

“Please. One more time.”

“I can’t.”

God, his face crumbles. Just shatters right there on the floor. “You just felt so good. I swear I cuddleall the timeand never get hard like that. I—fuck, Oli.” His hands cover his face. “I’m sorry.”

Before I can do or say anything, he darts down the hall and into his bedroom. The click of the lock echoes in the stillness, and I collapse on his couch.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? I need to talk to Doctor Langley. I can’t stand the way I am. Plenty of people with trauma have perfectly healthy relationships. Why am I not in that group? How the fuck do I become like those people?

At this rate, I’m going to break Jorge. He’s too good and kind to deal with this. Every time I refuse him, he’ll see it as rejection. He’ll take it to heart.

That’s just who he is.

He’s too good for someone as damaged as me.

Jorge

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