Page 10 of ILY
Or hell, maybe I was just imagining it.
When he doesn’t return after several minutes, I tuck my face into my hands and groan loudly.
Yeah. I made a fool of myself, and now I’m out of a hot manandTNT.
Fuck.
Michael will be pleased about this turn of events. He’ll gloat, I’m sure of it.
I envision the rodent, chewing on my strawberries, smiling at the camera, and I curse.
There is no way, at this point, I’m ever going to solve my Michael problem.
I have no idea how much time passes. All I know is that the floor of this little motel is a scary thing. Its carpet is somehow…sticky? And the smell? Not quite sure if that killed the mood when I kissed SilentEcho, but I can’t bring myself to get up. And I honestly don’t know if he’s coming back or not.
I peer up at the bed, which seems worse than where I’m sitting, if I’m being honest. I really don’t need to bring home bedbugs. Oh god, are there bedbugs? Perhaps I should use the TNT on this entire place too. Put it out of its misery.
Either way, the rejection sits heavily in my chest, and I’m not really sure what to do with it or myself. It’s not that I’m unused to such a thing. I get plenty. I haven’t been on dating apps in a while because I got really discouraged whenever I’d show up to a meeting location and saw the look on their faces.
And listening to their contrived excuses about why they had to leave early? As though I’m not going to see right through it to the truth?
I know I’m not exactly a catch. I have uncontrollable anxiety and fatigue from burning out at work. My shoulders and wrists are mostly ruined from interpreting long hours, I’ve never had a successful relationship last longer than a few weeks, and I’m pretty sure that “mole” I have is a third nipple.
But I don’t think I’m that bad of a guy.
And this is the first time I’ve been straight up rejected mid-hookup, if I could call it that. Sadly, I definitely would have fucked Echo if he’d given me the chance. That’s how much I’ve lost my mind. But I’m pretty sure one good orgasm at the hands of another man will go far in making me feel better.
Marginally, at least.
It didn’t need to be anything serious. Just a quick hand job would have sufficed. But he ran out of here like a bat escaping hell, and it’s hard not to take that personally.
Not to mention, he fucked off with the TNT, so I’m back to square one with Michael, once again, being the victor.
“Fucking Michael,” I murmur, staring at a peculiar spot on the floor.
“The guy you’re after?”
My gaze shoots up, and I narrow my eyes at Echo, who’s hovering in the doorway. “How the hell did you get in here?”
“Door was still open,” he says, taking a few steps closer. “And anyway, it’s mostly broken. Anyone could get in here.”
Right now, he looks different. Perhaps it’s defeat, but maybe it’s something else. His expressions are hard to read, which is rare for me, considering half the language I use to interpretisfacial expressions.
“Oh. Um…”
“You should be more vigilant,” he says. The distance between us gets even smaller. “This isn’t the best part of town. I’m pretty sure the other side of the motel is running a prostitution ring, and I think I can smell meth cooking a few doors down.”
I blink at him. “You know what meth smells like?”
He pulls a face, then grabs the rickety chair and sets it a few feet away from my spot on the floor. It creaks a little as he sits, but it doesn’t break.
“I’ve been around. I’ve had…interesting jobs most of my life.” He says it with a tone that tells me not to ask more questions about it, so I roll my lips between my teeth and nod.
‘Why did you come back?’ I sign, and I catch the way his eyes flicker after my hands.
He turns his head slightly, and that’s when I see them. Very slender, bronze hearing aids tucked so far behind his ears they’re almost invisible. There’s a thin wire that I know is attached to a tiny little insert that sits in his ear canal. No wonder I didn’t see them before. They got lost in his hair.
“Leaf…who’s Michael?” he asks instead of answering me.
