Page 39 of Roleplay at Randy's
It’s not enough distance.
I push to my feet and stretch my arms above my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Elias tense, and when I look, his eyes are averted to his lap where his fists lay clenched.
The mild chill of the room makes my bare skin prickle, and it hits me that I’m standing in front of Elias in nothing but his shirt and a pair of underwear hidden by that shirt right after suggesting we pretend to do the very thing we’re both adamant we shouldn’t do.
“It’s one day,” I say, trying to control the breaths wreaking havoc on my lungs. “We can give in for one day.”
How much of me will he have by then?
How will I get any of it back?
I suck in an anxious breath.
Will I even want to?
10
ELIAS
I’m trying reallyhard to focus on Matty’s proposal, but when he’s standing there with those bare, toned legs on full display with my shirt just barely—barely—hanging over his ass, I can hardly remember to breathe, let alone think.
“Lee?”
I shake the haze away, or at least away from the forefront of my mind, and swing my legs off the couch. It’s probably best if I keep the chub to myself.
The ghost of Matty’s fingers still prickles over my skin, and I smooth my palms over my thighs to distract myself.
“I’d never turn down a date with you, fake or otherwise.”
That makes him smile, and even if I didn’t make it out of tonight with a sort-of date with him, that would be enough for me.
“I’m going to make us some cocoa,” he says. “Want anything from the kitchen?”
“No, I’m good.” But when he turns to walk away, a bitter tasting feeling nags in my gut, and I thrust my hand out to grab onto his wrist. “Matty.”
He tilts his head, eyes landing on me quizzically. Mythroat itches with a mountain of words ranging from appreciation to depreciation, but when I swallow them down, there’s only two words that remain.
“I’m sorry.” His skin is soft beneath my fingertips, and I bury my focus in the sensation. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to try so hard. I want this to be home for you, even if it’s only temporary. That means if you need to turn it all off … we’ll support you. If you need to switch to ASL for a while … I’ll figure it out. You aren’t just a guest, Matty. I want you here as long as you want to be here.”
That was too much. It had to be. Tonight has made me feel like we’ve cut my chest open. That all of these swirling emotions need an outlet, and as much as I know these are thoughts I should keep to myself, I don’t want to.
Matty is always so much more put together than I am, so much more in control of himself, that it’s like a complete shock to my system when he drops to his knees in front of me. His eyes are wet, but before I can ask him what’s wrong, his arms are around my neck and his face is pressed to the base of my throat.
“Don’t talk,” he says with a wet laugh. “Just hold me, silly.”
I do. Because he asked. Because I want to. My arms go around his middle and hold in a matching tightness to his own grip.
We don’t talk. For several minutes. I count each breath he makes, starting over when he sniffles. I run my fingers over the outline of his braid, gently pulling apart the strands in my exploration. The elastic in his hair slips free, and I sink my hand into his hair with a content sigh.
Once his tears have settled, Matty pulls back and knocks his forehead to mine. He doesn’t speak, though. He breathes, eyes closed, arms around me like a fortress. I’m willing to lethim stay here as long as he wants, as long as he needs, because I meant it.
I want this to be home. I want him to be happy and comfortable, and I’ll do anything to give that to him.
How have I fallen so fast for him?
“I’m going to make that cocoa,” he says with his voice barely above a whisper, the words a raw rumble.
Then, he extricates himself, using my shoulders as leverage to get to his feet.
