Page 89 of Forever We Fall

“Amazing tournament.” He sits on his reading chair and opens the book to a dog-eared page.

I grunt noncommittally.

“Seems like you had a good time tonight,” he tries.

“Seems like you did too.” I try to keep the accusation out of my mouth, but it’s polluted.

“I did. It was nice to see you succeed.”

“Uh-huh.”

The book snapping closed reverberates around the room, tugging my eyes to Arlo. His jaw is set. His shoulders are back. “What’s wrong?”

I could tell him that I hate, fucking loathe, seeing him talk to other people. But I don’t. Not really. I am glad he’s making friends other than me. I don’t want him to be limited or lonely. I want him to flourish and get the most life has to offer.

I could tell him that I hate, fucking loathe the fact that he won’t touch me. But I don’t. Not really. I respect his boundaries. I understand he’s been hurt. Like I told him months ago, I will wait for him as long as it takes.

I could tell him that I hate, fucking loathe the fact that he wants Nate between us. But I don’t. Not really. It would be hot, fun even.

“You’re pushing me away, Arlo.”

He huffs a breath but has the decency not to deny it.

“It’s…I rely on you for too much,” he says, dragging his gaze down to the book in his lap as he does.

In a blink, I’m up, dangling my feet over the edge of the bed and facing him. “So?”

“It’s not fair to you,” he says, still not looking at me.

“I want to be everything you need,” I admit without shame.

“That’s not healthy for either of us.”

“You ate three rolls at dinner. Since when do you care about health?” That wins his gaze, along with a smirk and a shake of his head. “Seriously, who cares if it’s what works for us?”

“Does it work for you, though?” He squeezes the book, making the veins pop in his hands. His gaze is pleading. “I know how hard it is for me not to touch you, and I’m the one with the issues.”

He drags in a frantic breath. “Some days, I feel like I’ll explode if I don’t…”

I hang there, waiting for his words that don’t come.

“Don’t what?” I beg.

“I can’t imagine how hard it is for you, Hota.” He drops the book onto his lap, ignoring my pleas and trying to cover histhickening dick. “You’re so physical and sexual. I’m holding you back.” I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up a hand. “I know I am, and I fucking hate it. I want you to be you, fully you. Not some part of yourself you’ve broken off just for me.”

I drop to my knees in front of him, leaving enough distance to assure him I’m not going to try to choke on his dick, though that’s what I’d love to do.

He smiles down at me, and my heart kicks.

“What if that’s what I want to be?” I run my hands down my pant-covered thighs. “I want to be whatever you need.”

“You are so much more. You are meant for so much more than that.” He fills his chest with air, testing the limits of his uniform jacket.

“I don’t want to be,” I whisper.

“But you are.”

I lay my head on the arm of the chair. Arlo’s fingers flex and inch close to my hair, but don’t touch me. His presence is enough. His words are enough. “Don’t push me away.”

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