Page 101 of Call Me Sir

“Pack for the whole weekend,” he orders, leaving the room. He adds, “Please hurry.”

Why is Cole bossing me around so hot? My dick perks at the thought.

No, I tell myself. He’s anxious. I can’t tear those tightly fitted clothes from him. We’re on a time limit. It’s still morning, but I know the evening will sneak up on us quickly.

Pulling my mini suitcase, I throw in a few shirts and grab hanger items, carrying them by the hook.

We drive around the city of Bayfront, the sun shining brightly, promising a lovely day. There’s a gnawing at my gut and I tell myself I’m just nervous for Cole.

Or because we’ve both said we love each other.

Or that when we’re out and about, I can tell he’s looking at me a certain way. A way that makes me want to reach out and hold his hand. That’s what he wants, isn’t it?

The love and affection he wants, no deserves.

When we arrive at the market, I don’t grab his hand. Partly because I’m an absolute chicken, and partly because he’s springing around like a pig on the loose.

The market is stuffed with people and I struggle to keep up with him. I have to stride after him. How does he move so quickly?

I finally catch up to him at a stand where he’s purchasing vegetables I don’t recognize.

The money is exchanged, he’s stuffing his vegetables into a reusable bag, and about to tear away, when I whisper sharply, “Cole!”

It makes him jump. “What?!”

I didn’t mean to scare him but it’s more sad than funny.

My answer is holding out my hand.

His head cocks to the side.

“You gonna hold my hand, or what?”

Like a child who has been offered an ice cream cone, he sheepishly takes my hand, his eyes beaming.

“Where are we going next?”

Scanning the booths brimming with brightly colored produce, he keys in on one. “I need some herbs.”

“Lead the way.”

He’s all business as he pulls me there, buys some stuff and we’re on to the next one.

“What are you gonna do with all that?” I ask, no longer holding his hand because both our arms are overflowing with containers of food.

“It’s a surprise,” he says.

Somehow he seems more calm than before. We stop at one more store to grab meat and a case of beer, then we head back to his place. I wonder if he’s stressed and needs beer to wind down, but I don’t ask.

Rolling down the window, Cole sticks his hand out and lets it dance in the wind. Turning up the radio, my attention is on the road with occasional breaks to watch him.

The wind tousels his hair and he pulls his shades up to let the sun bask his face. Peaceful. That’s how he looks at the moment.

My calm is quickly replaced with dread at the thought of Ace being in my boyfriend’s home.

Thirty Five

Cole

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