Page 53 of No One Else

The sound of a cane moving down the hall spurs us closer together again, picking up where we left off, his hands cupping the back of my head, my fingers entwined behind his neck.

He backs me up, guiding me toward his bed. “Is this okay?” he asks between kisses, unable to stop.

“Yes,” I sigh, his big body covering mine as he lays me down. He holds himself off me easily, his mouth turning rougher, more feral, like he can’t help himself. I like this uncontrolled side to him.

His hand trails a path downward, softly grazing my breast. Despite the barely there contact, it’s all I can focus on. I hold my breath, waiting for him to do it again, and when he does, a moan catches in the back of my throat.

He lifts himself up further, his lips swollen, gazing down at me. “You like it when I touch you here?” He repeats the movement, fitting his whole palm over me, squeezing gently.

Something about the way he’s looking at me as he touches me sets me on fire. I bite my lip and nod up at him.

“What if I touch you-”

The sudden boom of the television out in the living room turning on startles us both, Evan’s heavy-lidded gaze morphing into panic as he whips his head toward the door, then annoyance as he realizes what it is. He blinks slowly, looking back down at me. “Sorry, I just-”

“It’s fine.” I soothe my hands over his shoulders, tight with tension.

He brings his head down low, whispering his lips across my neck. I arch into him, but we’re interrupted again by his dad yelling, “That’s a foul if I ever saw one! You must be blind, ref.”

Evan springs off the bed, interlacing his hands behind his neck, pacing the length of his room. I sit up gingerly, watching him prowl like a caged tiger to the head of the bed and back to the foot, frustration radiating off him in waves.

He opens the door, calling out, “Dad, could you lower it some? We can hear it in here.”

“Oh sure, son.”

The volume lowers fractionally, but not enough to make much of a difference. He blows out a breath, dropping his head down to his chest.

“That’s traveling,” Pete shouts.

I chuckle, then immediately clap my hand over my mouth, afraid of making the situation worse.

He glances up at me, a rueful smile crossing his lips when he sees me grinning. “I can’t concentrate... can’t do anything listening to that. To him.”

I get up off the bed and cross over to him, rubbing my hands down his arms. “Hey, it’s fine. No big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” he insists. “I want to be able to bring you back to my place and make out with no interruptions. To have the whole night ahead of us. As much time as we want.”

He sighs, brushing a strand of loose hair off my face, tucking it behind my ear. “It’s never been an issue living at home before. But tonight makes me wish I’d moved out already, the way most people our age have.”

“Can your dad live by himself?”

“I- I don’t know,” he admits. “I do pretty much everything around here. It’s just easier that way. And I’m helping with his medical bills. He gets disability, but his last surgery - the one the doctors said would help his quality of life a lot - the insurance deemed elective so he had to take out loans. When we have them paid off eventually, maybe...” he trails off, his face defeated.

“Hey.” I gently touch his chin, guiding him to meet my eye. “We’ll figure this out. This is not a deal breaker, okay? It’s only a bump in the road. I’m happy to spend any time with you. Besides, I’ve got my own roommate issues. It’s not just you.”

He swallows, nodding.

Pete yells again, something about overgrown toddlers playing ball.

I hide my face in his shirt, giggling, and he wraps his arms around me, groaning in defeat.

“We’ll figure this out,” I repeat.

We’ll have to.

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