Page 270 of For the Fans
“I’m fine. Really.” He shoots us a quick, strained smile. “Just let me know if there’s anything you need at the store.”
“Condoms and lube.” Avi smirks.
“Avi!” I bark, and he laughs.
“I’m just kidding…” he sighs. “We don’t use condoms.”
“Oh my God, I’m gonna staple your lips shut!” I growl.
“Alright, boys. That’s enough,” my dad scolds, grinning in amusement.
And I know why.This feels very similar to when we were stepbrothers.
“I left a list on the counter.” I run my fingers through my hair.
My father nods, picking up the list and looking it over. His forehead lines in concern. “This is all junk food…” He glares at Avi. “What grown man eats Pop Tarts??”
“That would be my boyfriend…” I sigh. “He eats like a pregnant seven-year-old.”
“Ew, babe.” Avi scrunches his face at me. “Weird.”
“I’m just saying, you don’t even smoke anymore, but you still act like you have the munchies twenty-four-seven.” I shoot him a look.
“When you get older, all that crap will come back to haunt you.” My dad joins in, his eyes flicking to Avi’s shirtless torso. “Say goodbye to those muscles.”
“No need to worry about that, Papa Dukes.” He grins. “This xylophone ain’t goin nowhere.” He mimics playing a xylophone on his abs, and we both roll our eyes.
“Whatever you say,” my dad mumbles, shaking his head as he leaves the house to go to the store.
“You’re a fool and a half.” I grin at Avi as he sticks his leg out to poke me in the shin with his toes.
“He’s gone… Wanna play see how many times we can make each other come in the shower?”
“Mmm… my favorite game,” I hum, sidling up to him and grinding myself on his big, deliciously muscular body.
We give him a lot of crap about what he eats, but Avi does enjoy working out. We started doing it together, and he can almost keep up with me.I said almost.
The sound of my phone ringing upstairs catches my ear. “Ooh, babe, I’m waiting for an important call.”
“Alright. Hop on.” He spins around, and I grin, jumping onto his back so he can piggyback me upstairs.
We’re both breathlessly laughing as I answer my phone. It’s my accountant. And only a brief chat later, I’m freaking giddy.
“What’s up, superstar?” Avi asks.
“It’s all set!” I dance around in place.
“Which thing… the townhouse or the money?”
“The money!” I beam, and he mirrors my look of zeal.
“Baby! That’s so exciting.” Grabbing my waist, he hugs me tight while we both shimmy around together.
A month ago, I officially decided to donate my settlement money to a few special charities. I’ve never wanted to spend a dime of that money on myself, but it was stupid to have it just sitting there collecting dust. So I picked my top three charities, and made arrangements with my accountant to split it in thirds and make three donations.
One to RAINN, because they were so helpful to me when I was looking to talk to someone about my abuse, one to the Trevor Project, because they do wonderful things for LGBTQ+ youths, and one to the It Gets Better Project…
Because it does.Get better. I’m living proof of that.
