Page 31 of Sugar Rush
“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “No, this can’t happen again. I lost control, and I’m sorry for that. But this isn’t… We aren’t a thing. Don’t forget that.”
Groaning, I collapsed onto my back, staring up at his ceiling. Why couldn’t my life be like the TV shows I watched, with picnic dates and make-out sessions and romantic confessions instead of constant rejections with sharp barbs sticking me all over?Rolling onto my side, I watched him smooth his clothes out before turning back to me.
“You need to get out. You need to go act like everything’s normal.”
It sucked and it hurt, but some small, hopeful part of me, like a tiny candle flickering in a rainstorm, assured me that he didn’t mean it. He didn’t want things to be like this. He didn’t want to keep rejecting me. But something had convinced him that giving in to his feelings for me would be wrong.
But if his problem wasn’t that we were stepbrothers, then what was it? Was it even something I could solve? Before that, I needed to try and convince him to tell me what it was. And to do that, I needed to get even closer to him, to bring down his defenses even more than I’d done today, even if it had only been for a few minutes.
“Okay, Kieran.”
Making my way past him and out the door, I tried to ignore the way he stepped aside so that we didn’t brush against each other, like I was something gross and slimy that he didn’t want to touch.
At the top of the steps, part of me yearned to look back at him, to give him another chance to change his mind and take it all back and decide he didn’t care about whatever stupid thing he was so fucking afraid of, that was keeping him from me. But I must have had some pride left, at least a little bit, because I didn’t.
KIERAN
I’D LONG ACCEPTEDthe fact that no matter how many years I was alive or how many fellow students and coworkers and clients at the shop I dealt with, people would always be a mystery to me. Jordy was the most confusing human I’d ever dealt with, but everyone else wasn’t too far behind.
I definitely appreciated all the new clients and business, but the fact that people were willing to travel to get tattooed by the same person that had tattooed their favorite internet celebrity was totally baffling. One overenthusiastic girl was so excited about it, I’d felt the need to remind her that everything gets disinfected between clients, so it wasn’t like she was actually being stabbed by the same needle as him or anything.
Even crazier, now a guy was offering to pay formeto travel tohimso I could do a half sleeve on him over a 3-day weekend. I’d worked with him on the design for a week, and ended up estimating it would take about 15 hours or so. Three sessions. He was paying for my gas, the tattoo, and a hotel room in his city.
Part of me felt like an imposter, like I didn’t really deserve all the praise and recognition just because I’d lucked out and some beloved video game streamer had stumbled into my shop. But with all the new comments on my art, it was sort of becoming harder and harder to feel that way. Even though it was good, it was a lot for my brain to process and deal with.
But who was I to judge anyone for being obsessed with some internet guy? I could barely go 10 minutes without thinking about my stepbrother, no matter how much I had going on orhow busy I was. Ten minutes was probably overestimating it. Five minutes. Two, if I was alone.
My feelings were evolving in the wrong direction entirely. No matter how much I reminded myself that I wasn’t allowed to want him, it seemed to only get worse and worse. I’d completely screwed myself by losing control the day I’d caught him in my room. He’d always been the most desirable person alive to me, but now that I’d actually touched his delectable body and felt his tight little virgin channel throbbing around my fingers, I didn’t think I could want a different omega ever again.
It only made everything more difficult and painful, something I’d once thought would have been impossible. Things had been calm since then, but the way he looked at me was like mental torture. I knew exactly what he was telling me without him needing to say it. He would let me do anything to him. He’d do anything to me that I wanted him to. And he didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed about it like he probably should have. Or like I did.
Liking me, or wanting to fuck me, or whatever exactly was going on in his head, didn’t seem to bother him at all. It was like he didn’t even register that it was screwed up. Part of me wished I could have that mindset about it, but that would make me an even worse person.
“Dude?” Ritchie’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I remembered where I was. “You want another beer?”
“Nah, I’m good,” I said. “I’m heading out soon.”
“Everything good?” He questioned. “You’re totally spacing out.”
“I’m good. Just a lot to think about.”
“Alright,” he answered, shrugging. Ritchie was always good for that. He didn’t nag or push the issue.
We’d been friends since middle school. Back then we’d been edgy little brats, always complaining about the popular crowdand how shallow and annoying they were. It got harder for me to feel that way once Jordy was in high school. But to be fair, he didn’t have those stuck-up, judgmental qualities I’d always hated in my classmates.
I was comfortable with Ritchie, but he was a beta. I was pretty sure he wouldn’t understand the weird shit that was going on between Jordy and I and it’d be awkward to try and explain. Which still left me with no one I could really vent to or seek advice from.
“Bring me back a souvenir from your trip,” he requested, grinning when I snorted.
“Yeah, I can probably spring for a candy bar or something. Maybe,” I added.
“After all we’ve been through,” he replied, shaking his head somberly.
“Alright. A shell from the beach. Take it or leave it.”
“It better be one of those ones that you can hear the ocean in.”
“Deal.”
