Page 58 of A Totally Platonic Thing
I could work with that.
“Shower?” I asked hopefully. “Together?” I rubbed against him, feeling a promising hardness under his jeans.
“Definitely,” he said, and dragged me into the bathroom, where I showed him how awesome a blowjob in the shower could be. Lucas looked and felt so amazing coming in my mouth, holding my hair and thrusting down my throat, staring down at me on my knees like he’d never seen anything better. And he kissed me while I jerked off, wrapping his hand around mine.
But five minutes later, he collapsed into bed and didn’t move again, leaving me to disconsolately shut off the lights and brush my teeth and crawl in next to him. He’d want me there, right?
And maybe he did, but when my brain staggered into half-consciousness early in the morning, with the freaking birds barely starting to sing outside, Lucas had already gotten up and dressed. He swooped down and kissed me quickly, muttered something about being back late again, and left before I could more than blink.
I flopped over onto my back, staring blearily up at the ceiling as I listened to his retreating footsteps, the sound of his car starting, and then the near-silence of a super-early weekend morning with no one up and around yet.
Saturday. It was Saturday, for God’s sake.
And it wasn’t like I could help him deal with his project or his advisor. I had nothing at all to contribute, not even a meal since he hadn’t been home long enough—except apparently a midnight blowjob.
I tried really, really hard not to feel just the tiniest bit used.
Because he’d been so tired. And yes, I’d gotten off too. And the timing could’ve been better for all of this.
But after the way he’d spent all of two minutes with me when I came by the day before, and the way he’d had maybe ten minutes to spend with me, all of it spent having an orgasm and getting cleaned up, when he came home…the fairly substantial portion of my mind and heart that couldn’t quite buy Lucas truly wanted me started to get a lot louder.
Some people hit peak brooding in the middle of the night.
For me, the early morning was the worst of the worst. Something about the loneliness of dawn brought out my worries in a way the wee hours couldn’t.
Anyway, Saturday sucked, and I didn’t hear from Lucas at all until a message I got at eight in the evening.
Turns out Dr. Park arranged a visit from an exec at aerospace co for Mon am. FML. Will be looking to recruit. Project in lots of pieces. Not coming home tonight.
A second later, another bubble popped up.
Don’t call, phone about to die.
And they didn’t have fucking chargers in a fuckingelectrical engineeringlab?
I tossed my phone to the end of my bed, wishing I could fling it out the window, my worry and frustration welling up until they had to have a physical outlet. I felt like a kettle about to boil, all bubbly and steaming and restless and upset.
Maybe kettles weren’t frustrated, but hey, they looked like they were.
Whatever.
What did you even say to that? The logical part of me knew I shouldn’t blame Lucas, that he had bigger fish to fry right now.
The other part of me wished he’d put me first anyway, even if that was only long enough to plug in his phone.
Finally I retrieved my phone and typed out,I miss you. Good luck. Call me when your phone charges?
I stared down at that message for a minute. Translation:I’m needy. I’m pretending to care about your problems so that I don’t sound so needy. But I’m really, really needy.
Okay. Try again. I deleted the previous message and wrote,That sucks, I’m sorry, but you’ll totally make it happen! Call me when you have the chance. I’ll be up late. I’ll bring you coffee in the morning if you’re still there.
Much better. Still pathetically needy, but I couldn’t find a way to fix that without sounding like a robot. I pressed send.
He replied a minute later.
Thanks. Sleep well.
Okay then.
