Page 43 of Samuel's Heart

He looks down at his chest and then shakes his head as if realising he opened the door in a dishevelled state.

“No, please come in. I’ll go put something on.”

When I enter the room, I’m surprised at how well kept and clean everything is. Not like my apartment, essentially abandoned since the accident, because I couldn’t care less about anything when John wasn’t there with me.

I follow him through the foyer, then into the living room, and study the small desk with a pile of documents I hope are what I think they are—John’s next organ recipient.

“Sorry for the mess. Since the accident, I haven’t been able to take care of anything.”

“It’s okay. Certainly better than my place,” I babble, without even thinking of what I’m saying. And then I’m not able to stop my face going red as a tomato.

He smiles—a gentle smile that feels like a caress, like an everything-is-fine smile—and I settle down, as if he flipped a switch inside me.

He walks me to the kitchen, and my brain starts working again.

“I brought coffee and breakfast.”

“Thank you. I’ll get changed and be back soon.”

He walks away and I sit on the sofa, trying to place everything on the small table next to it, but it’s full of documents. I push them to one side, trying not to look at what’s written, and once I make a space big enough to place everything there, that’s what I do.

My eye falls on a page and I recognise John’s name, and my curiosity can’t be stopped. Breakfast and coffee are forgotten while I read whatever is in my hand. Tears are trickling out and wetting my face while I read John’s medical information.

The document is pulled out of my hands, and I follow it with my body until I’m looking at Samuel. A fully dressed Samuel. His face is a not-very-happy one.

“You shouldn’t put your nose in other people’s stuff.”

“But that’s about John, so I have the right to read them.”

“If you had the right, we wouldn’t be here breaking the law.”

And that’s what shuts me up and makes me angry at the same time.

“There’s no point in reminding me. And while I’m very grateful for what you’re doing, I’m not happy that you’re keeping secrets.”

“I’m not. But there is no point in you reading something that’s not getting you closer to what you want, and only serves to upsetyou. Trust me.” His speech ends with a sweet note in his tone, one that soothes my nerves and defuses my anger.

“It’s just . . .”

“I know, and I’ll give that to you, but you have to trust me.”

“I do.” The words coming so easily out of my mouth surprise me as much as they surprise him. The truth behind them is something I’ve never had. It took me more than a year to trust John.

What is there about Samuel that’s bringing down the walls I’ve built to protect myself?

He seems to understand I’m experiencing a moment of discovery, and to help soften the mood, he changes the subject.

“So . . . you said coffee and breakfast.”

At that moment his stomach rumbles, and I find myself chuckling like I haven’t done in a while.

I pick up the coffee from the table and pass it to him.

“Can I have sugar?” I’m surprised, because he doesn’t seem like someone with a sweet tooth.

I pass it to him and watch as he puts two sugars into his coffee, stirs for a while, and then takes a sip. His Adam’s apple goes up and down while he swallows, which has my very dormant cock up in a second, a gasp nearly breaking free. I use the bag I have in my hand to cover up my lap, praying for my dick to go down, and my brain to start thinking.

Later I will analyse the fact that, after two years, I just got hard for a man who’s not John.

---