Page 28 of Roleplay at Randy's
“You’re not weirded out? You know what it means, right? That I was born … that I’m not …”
Elias puts a little bit of distance between us. Nothing significant, just a few inches so he can direct his kind, yet intense gaze on me. One hand leaves my hair to ghost along my cheek and chin.
“I know what it means, Matty,” he whispers with a sort of mild amusement. “It doesn’t change anything. I still want you here.” His smile turns a little lopsided, and his cheeks fill with a heady blush. “I’m still super silly attracted to you.”
That’s good. Really good. Because the longer he stands there touching me the way that he is, looking at me the way that he is, the more “super silly attracted”I am to him, too.
The hand on my cheek travels down, exploring the expanse of my chest and pausing over one of my scars. His eyes never leave mine, and when I nod, he traces it with one featherlight finger.
“Does it hurt?” he whispers, and I shake my head.
“Mostly numb.” I reach up and grab his wrist because I’m near my limit. “Sensitive to some things.”
Instead of pulling his hand away entirely, he twists and slides it into mine. “Sorry.” His eyes dip to my chest, and I watch his throat bob before they bounce back up. “You look good.”
The thread on my self control is razor thin. Either we break apart or I’m going to fucking kiss him.
Why the hell am I holding back again?
An alarm sounds throughout the room, and Elias is the one to jump back, hands flying to his pockets and pulling out his phone.
“Oh shit.” He taps a button and holds it up to his ear. “Miss Jennifer? Oh, yes, I ran back home to get it. I meant to be back before he came to you, but I got held up.”
He looks at me again with as friendly a smile as ever. “Did he? Well, I’ll work with him on that at home, too. Thanks for calling. Bye.”
Shoving the phone back in his pocket, Elias bursts out into this deep, rich laugh that shocks me out of my frozen bubble. I take a step back and cross my arms over my chest, already eying my bag of clothes next to the couch.
“I’m really sorry about disturbing you. I said you could have this time to yourself, and look at me monopolizing it.”
I huff out my own laugh and drag a hand through my hair, already missing Elias’ hold. “It’s no big deal; I’ll be editing for the next little while.”
“I’ve got to head back to Cal, but if you need anything while I’m out, just text or give me a call.”
He steps back with a half wave and turns for the door, stopping to slip his shoes back on. His shoulders tense, and he stretches them back—I really should stop fucking watching him like a stalker.
Just before walking out the door, he turns back, wearing a bright smile and a strong air of determination.
“Now you can start sending me shirtless selfies while I’m at work.” He winks—fucking winks—and my jaw drops open. “It’s the highlight of my nights.”
Then, he’s gone, and I’m stuck with fifty-fucking contradicting emotions warring for control of my body.
Confusion becausewhat in the hell just happened?
Relief because it feels like I can finally, fully relax while I’m here. I don’t have to feel awkward when I’m taking up the bathroom giving myself a shot. I don’t have to sweatthrough my t-shirt because I don’t want Elias to accidentally walk out in the middle of the night and have questions.
Arousal because I can still feel the heat from every bit of Elias’ touch. Because I never got off, and he just casually touched one of my most intimate spots. Because the way he reassured me only makes the fire in my gut grow hotter.
Happiness because he said my pictures are the highlight of his night. My goofy, borderline flirty pictures and messages that honestly started to make myself feel less lonely.
We’re straddling a dangerous line between friends and something more. Afraid to take the plunge because the early feelings like this don’t always last. It’s the shit that comes later, once you’ve grown comfortable, that really decides if these feelings can weather the storm.
I’ll likely be gone before we hit that point. With distance, this obsessive need to touch and be touched by Elias will fade. So will everything else.
As much as I want to, I won’t cross the line. Because falling in love with someone who openly admits they aren’t emotionally available would lend itself to immediate heartache.
Even as I trace the spots on my body where his touch still lingers, I know my heart is bound for damage either way.
8
