Page 74 of Masked Sins
It’s going to be sweltering today.
Quickly feeding Sparrow, I don’t bother cleaning him up as I check the air-conditioning is set, grab my bag, and close the door a little too loudly behind me.
Jogging to Dad’s house, I walk up just as a sleek black sports car pulls into the driveway. I’m so used to Orion’s bike that it’s strange to see him drive an actual car.
A few minutes later, we’re loading my dad—who protests the entire way—into the passenger seat of Orion’s car. Orion pushes his seat forward, and I climb into the back.
It’s twenty minutes to the hospital, and I pepper my dad with more questions to rule out a possible stroke or heart attack. The numbness is the only symptom, thankfully. Once we get to the emergency room, my dad is seen almost right away.
We’re asked to wait in the waiting room, and he tells us he’ll be fine as they put him in a wheelchair and lead him through double doors.
I turn around and see Orion standing right behind me, arms at his sides.
“Hey,” he says, opening his arms.
I don’t even think—I just fall into them and let him hold me. I’m sweaty from running to my dad’s house and also the fact that it feels like the inside of an oven outside. But Orion smellssogood—that familiar smoky, leather scent. Closing my eyes, I feel him squeeze me tighter, and my throat clogs with unshed tears. One of Orion’s arms comes to the back of my head, and he slowly strokes my hair.
“He’ll be okay,” he says, resting his chin on the top of my head.
Memories of the last time we were here together flood through my mind—how we hardly spoke, let alone touched. We were cordial, but I left the room whenever we were alone so I didn’t have to talk to him.
What a difference two years makes.
And then before that… when his mom died.
I remember holding him just like this—his head in my lap as he cried. As the coroner came to the house to take Felicity’s body after she took her last breath and we’d all had a chance to say goodbye. His hands had clung to my shirt for hours as he napped next to me—as my dad sat in the living room staring at the wall.
Going through something like that—watching someone you love die—changes you.
And I’ve learned that in times like that, you need someone to lean on.
I pull out of Orion’s grasp and give him a watery smile. “Should we go sit down?”
“Yeah.”
The waiting room is packed full of people—as it always is with a heat wave. Lots of people get heatstroke, especially with temperatures like we’re currently experiencing. We find a bench meant for one person and manage to squeeze onto it. Orion is huge, and his whole body presses against mine. As subtly as I can, I scoot closer to the end to give him more space.
“I don’t bite,” he murmurs. “In fact, I remember a time when you used to want to sit on my lap.”
My cheeks burn as I look away. “It’s different when you’re nine versus twenty-six,” I grumble.
Orion looks down at me, and his eyes land on my lips briefly before he looks away.
Neither of us has spoken since the night atPhantom of the Operatwo days ago. I’d forgotten to open his birthday present, having gone right to bed after getting home from the show. The truth is, I was scared to see what he’d gotten me. Most of the past two days were spent oscillating between thinking about Starboy and trying not to think about Orion. And despite checking in with Starboy twice a day, we haven’t had the opportunity to doa video call again. We talk all day—texting and sending funny memes to each other. I snap selfies of doing barre, and he takes pictures of his smoothies and rumpled sheets.
Last night, Starboy had sent a picture of himself wearing the mask while lying down on a bed. I couldn’t see below his neck, but just the sliver of skin across his throat was enough for me.
Wish you were here.
Four simple words, and I’d been so tempted to break the no-touching-myself rule—especially knowing what he looked likedown thereand what he’d said afterward.
Just imagine how much of a mess I’ll make on your pretty face one day.
I’d memorized the image of his cock and the mess he’d made because of me.
I snap out of my dirty thoughts as Orion shifts next to me. I bounce my knee nervously as doctors, patients, and family members walk by us in the crowded emergency room.
“You okay?” Orion asks, leaning an inch closer to me. The smell of leather and tobacco fills the space between us, and despite knowing he doesn’t smoke, his musky, smoky scent is damn near intoxicating.
