Page 142 of For the Fans
“Convenient,” Hannah teases with a smirk.
“Alright, well… I’m gonna bring my stuff upstairs,” I mutter.
“Oh, yea. Good idea,” Avi says, following me to the stairs.
“We’ll eat in about an hour!” Hannah calls after us.
Stomping into my old bedroom, I exhale slowly, looking around. It’s exactly the same as I left it, but for some reason, itfeelsdifferent. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve changed… or because I never really felt like myself living in this room.
It won’t be like it was…
I drop my bag on the floor, taking off my coat and boots, trying to make myself comfortable, when really, I’m just anxious. Being around my father is always tense, but during the holidays, it really ramps up the pressure… For me to feel like a better son than I am. Constantly chasing his approval, and knowing I’ll never get it.
Taking a seat on my bed, I flop onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. I still vaguely remember what holidays were like before our family was torn apart…
It wasn’t perfect… Not even close. But still, it was better than this. Christmas movies, decorating the tree, and sipping eggnog by the fire. Bridget and I would rush downstairs at the crack of dawn and squeal over all the presents everywhere, and the plate of cookies with a bite taken out from Santa. There was honest to Godmerriment.
And then that all changed.
A few words shivered from terrified lips took down the whole Harbor family.
A knock at my door brings me out of my anguished nostalgia.
“Hey…”
Lifting my head, I find Avi wandering into the room, hands stuffed into his pockets. He trots over and plops down on my bed right next to me, and for the first timeever, I don’t actively try to scoot away from him.
Maybe I’m just too tired… Emotionally drained from the sheer act of being here, and all the bullshit memories that always seem to attach themselves to this stupid holiday. But right now, I almost feel myself leaning incloserto him. Hanging on his proximity, as the only thing in my life that fully distracts me from chaos my mind can’t control.
Avi lies down on his back beside me. And we both just stare up at the ceiling, side-by-side, breathing quiet breaths that feelmuch calmer than they were a moment ago. The feel of his fingers moving alerts me to how close they are to my own. And then mine move, twitching subtly until they brush his.
I hear him release an exhale, and the next thing I know, his fingers are tracing mine, gradually grazing them up and down.
The sensation thumps my chest and tickles my stomach, but I don’t… I don’t hate it.
Latching onto that, and this feeling I don’t want to lose no matter how confusing it is, I thread mine through his, taking his right hand in my left. We’reholding hands, and it feelsgood. His hand is warm and big; the same size as mine. I like it…
I like his hands.
Avi’s face turns, and as nervous as I am for him to see the obvious blush in my cheeks, I shift mine in his direction. Our eyes meet, two vastly different places on the color spectrum, cradling each other, almost intimately.
“I wanna show you something,” he whispers, lips quirking subtly.
Brows raised, I blink at him as he reaches his left hand into his pocket, pulling out some sort of rubber ring. He flicks it at me, and it lands on my stomach. Picking it up with my free hand, I examine it closely.
“What the hell is this?” I grunt, and he chuckles.
“It’s a cock ring.” I shoot him a scandalized look, and he laughs harder. “A gift from one of our fans.”
I observe the ring for a moment, so many varying things bouncing around inside my skull. But the first question that exits my mouth is, “You gave a stranger on the internet your address??”
Avi snorts, his chest rumbling through his chuckles. “I gave them Frankie’s address.”
“That doesn’t exactly make it better,” I gasp. “What if this person shows up at her house?”
“I didn’t give out her apartment number or anything,” he sighs. “Plus, her building is very secure. She said it was okay.”
The only other word I can think to utter is, “Why…?”
