Page 44 of French 75
Cassius
I love lazy Sundays.
Typically, unless there’s an event, Sundays are when Skylar and I both have off. We’ll usually spend it lying on the couch, all snuggled together while we watch one of Skylar’s guilty pleasures.
Western movies.
I have no idea what attracts him to the classic old Western. Maybe it’s the air of drama around it, the simplicity of the plot, the well-executed lines and movements. To me, they’re boring as fuck. But love makes you tolerate a whole lot that you usually wouldn’t.
Hence why I’m here, pretending to be interested in the film, while Skylar lies half-naked on my chest. He’s curled around me. One bare leg is tucked close to his chest, which puts his perfect little cock at the best angle to press against mine. His hand is draped over my neck, and he strokes it every few minutes. My hand securely rests on his ass, giving him tender kneads that make him purr.
It’s a perfect lazy Sunday.
“What was that?” I ask when a knock on our door interrupts the main showdown. I look down at Skylar with a furrowed brow. “Are you expecting anyone?”
He shakes his head in confusion. “No, not that I can remember. I don’t think—” he cuts himself off as his eyes widen. Scrambling off my body, he fumbles so he lands on his ass on the carpet. “Um, I’ll go get that. Yeah, it’s for me. Well, no. I’ll just go see what it is. Be right back!”
He ends with the highest pitch he’s ever let out.Sureeeee. Not suspicious at all. With the couch where it’s at, I’m able to sit up and lean back to watch him approaching the door. He unlocks all the bolts with trembling fingers, and I snap my head forward just as he looks behind his back. I hear some shuffling and a sharp little gasp before he closes the door.
“Skylar?” I question, eyebrows drawn together as he speed walks past me. My eyes narrow in on the discrete package in his hand. “What’s that?—”
“Nothing!” he squeaks as he full-on bolts into his room, slamming the door shut in the process.
Okay. That was a little weird. I try to remind myself that even though Skylar and I are attached at the hip, he does have a right to privacy?—
No, that’s bullshit. There’s no such thing asprivacybetween us. Not when he’ll walk in on me in the shower or insist on flossing while I shit. There’s never been anything between us, and I’m not about to start now, not when my plan to finally make him see me as more than a friend is working.
I mean, it is working…right?
After the cooking class a few days ago, we’ve been inseparable. Yes, it’s always been like that, but it feels like so much more now. And, yes, we’ve always been touchy with each other, but it’s on a whole new level now. Now our innocent little touches aren’t so innocent anymore. Everything is lacedwith a whole new layer of sensuality and closeness. The way his fingertips will brush mine like a promise for more. The way a gentle hand on the shoulder is laced with tension. Like the bond between us is so much stronger now that I’ve made him comeseveraltimes.
There’s another gasp from his room—this one louder and almost shocked—and that’s about all I can take. I rise from the couch quickly and take three long strides until I’m in front of his door. Without knocking, I take a hold of the handle, and my eyes widen when it’s locked.
It’s. Fucking.Locked.
“Skylar,” I say, loud enough that I know he can hear me. “Sunshine, why did you lock the door?”
I’m not a creep. I’m also not a stalker. I’m never overbearing or controlling or anything remotely resembling a psychotic freak. People lock their doors. I get that.
Skylardoesn’t.
Suddenly, my throat is dry. Heusedto lock his doors. Back when…
With a renewed sense of urgency, I start jiggling the handle. “Sunshine, you have to let me in right now.”
What if he’s in there doing… What if he’s back into that old habit? He’s been happy and healthy, so adamant that…thatis behind him. But what if he’s slipping back? What if he’s alone and scared and hurting himself and I’m out here like a damn idiot?
“If you don’t open the door, I’m breaking it in,” I warn him, taking a step back and jumping in place to prepare myself. After a second, he doesn’t answer, and I nod to myself. “Okay. If you’re by the door, move. I’m going to?—”
The door swings open, and Skylar emerges in his fluffy pink robe, eyes rolling in irritation as he waves me away. “Oh! Don’t be so dramatic! I’mfine.”
“Why’d you lock the door?” I ask, somehow keeping my voice steady, even though he scared the living shit out of me.
He rolls his bottom lip into his mouth. “I wanted privacy?”
“Why?”
“Because sometimes people want that?”
