Page 52 of Tangled Up In You
For weeks, we’d just lived in our own little reality, not worrying about the following day and just living in the moment. He’d helped me go through Grandpa Bill’s things, and instead of hiring someone else to come in and fix the parts of the house that needed it, I’d been gradually working on it to give myself something to do during the day when I wasn’t at school with him.
But it couldn’t be avoided for forever.
“I’m still here now,” I said, closing the distance between us. I didn’t pull him into my arms like I wanted to, because students entered the classroom, but I subtly brushed my pinky on his.
“I know,” he answered in a sad tone. “I’m just trying not to get too comfortable. I’m not foolish enough to think this will last forever.”
As he greeted some of his students, I walked to the back of the room to get out of the way. I normally didn’t stay long after lunch, but there’d been times when I stuck around for the rest of the school day, playing teacher’s aide.
Recently, I’d been dubbedOne Who Passes Out AssignmentsandGatherer of Papers. I was kind of a big deal like that.
“Today we’re going to read more inTartuffe,” Hunter said, standing at the front of the class and looking sexy as fuck as he bunched up the sleeves of his shirt at his elbows. “But first, can anyone tell me the literary period when Moliere released the play?”
Kevin’s hand shot up. “The Enlightenment.”
That kid was always the first to raise his hand.
“And what was that?” Hunter asked.
“It was the age of reason,” Kevin expanded his answer. “Instead of focusing on blind faith, it emphasized logic and scientific ideals.”
“Correct,” Hunter said with a smile. “Tartuffeis the name of one of the main characters in the play who was thought to be a pious man. The name also translates to ‘hypocrite,’ which you can imagine caused quite the conflict back in the day, angering the church to such an extent that the play was actually banned. Moliere stated, however, that his play was not an attack on religion, but on hypocrisy and the ridiculousness of blind faith.”
Seeing Hunter in action was an incredible sight. And a massive turn on. My dick began to fill, and I quickly adjusted myself.
Hunter’s eyes met mine, and I smirked. He went back to teaching, but not before I saw the small upturn of his lips as well.
The shy parts of him were nowhere to be found when he was teaching. He appeared confident and relaxed. He was patient and kind, and he really made his students think critically about the work instead of just giving them the easy way out. He’d loved classic literature so much when we were in school, and I was happy he’d found his calling. We’d both found ways to make careers out of our passions.
That thought got me thinking again.
Careers. The future. My off-season in pro-ball, which was like my vacation time, lasted until end of April when workouts began. They weren’t mandatory, but by that time, I was usually ready to jump back into the football scene. That gave me about two more months before I had to make any decisions.
I had a photoshoot with Veronica coming up in March, though, that I hadn’t mentioned to Hunter yet. Mostly because of his jealousy toward her. I wasn’t sure how I was going to approach that subject.
We’d been so damn happy lately, and I didn’t want us to go back to not talking to each other. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.
***
“You want another plate of pancakes, hun?” Hunter’s mom, Wendy, asked after approaching our booth in the corner of the diner.
“No, thank you, Ma’am,” I answered, putting a hand on my already stuffed stomach. “Any more and I won’t be able to fit into my football uniform.”
Hunter rolled his eyes as he took another drink of coffee.
“What?” I asked. “It’s tight.”
“You’re tight,” he shot back in mock form just like we used to do all the time when we were younger. Only this time, it kind of bit us in the ass, and we blushed.
I was definitely tight. The only guy I’d ever let fuck me was Hunter, and that was way back in the day.
Wendy looked back and forth between us before smiling and walking to another table to refill someone’s drink.
Hunter’s routine on Saturday was to have breakfast at his parent’s diner, and I’d started joining him. In fact, I’d noticed a lot of his life was routine. Even though he hadn’t come out and told me about it, I got the impression he avoided most people. He had a certain schedule he stuck to; one that mostly involved him being alone.
He was afraid to put himself out in the world hurt, and I knew it was because of me. He didn’t have to tell me he was afraid of people hurting him. It was clear in his daily life of shielding himself from new experiences. From things and possibly even relationships that’d excite him.
Once upon a time, I’d known him better than I knew myself, and I liked to think I still did to an extent.
