Page 29 of Bad at Love

“Why not?”

“You’re too carefree. Doesn’t seem like you care about anything,” he comments before turning the burner off for the boiling pot.

His words hit me way too deep. It’s too personal. And though it’s not his fault, it makes me a little sick.

“I care about a lot of things, just show it differently than you.” I get up from my chair, needing to leave the room. “I’m going to shower before dinner.”

“It’ll be ready in fifteen!” he calls after me, oblivious to hownotcarefree I am right now.

Chapter Thirteen

Gabriel

One month down, and two to go. Things have been going pretty well. Storm still has his rough days, and there are plenty of things he needs to work on, but he’s trying.

It’s Monday, which means it’s omelet day. It’s not his favorite, but he likes it better than Thursday, which is oatmeal day. I’ve told him he can make his own breakfast, or sleep in like he used to, but he’s adamant about having breakfast with me each morning, especially the mornings I go off to work. I’ve come to expect it now, and dare I say enjoy it? The company is nice. It’s not a huge house, but it’s big enough to feel lonely in when you’re the only one here.

I get out of bed to go to the bathroom, but when I put my hand on the knob to open the door, I hear the water running from the shower… and something else too.

Moaning. Heavy breathing. Grunts.

My heart pounds, my hand stuck to the knob like it was covered in quick-drying super glue. My ears perk up, homing in on the sounds on the other side of the door. Wet slapping sounds.

He’s doing it again.

I haven’t caught him touching himself since that first time, even though I’ve caught him naked too many times. I should be disgusted by what he’s doing now. It’s such a dirty thing to do. Yet… I can’t move. I can’t pull away. I can’t go back to my room and forget this happened. My feet stay planted right here and I press my ear to the door to hear better. Swallowing hard, I focus everything on listening.

More grunting. Breathing gets heavier. Moans. So many low moans. I envision the way his hand was wrapped around himself when he was on his bed all those weeks ago. The way his cum spurted out of his dick like a volcano.Is that normal?

I wouldn’t know. I attempted touching myself one time when I was a teenager.One time, and one time only. Getting caught by my mother was traumatic enough, never mind the way she scolded me for it, and then reminded for months to never do it again. It was enough to put in my head that I, under no circumstances, do that. It’s dirty. Something that should be saved for your wife for the sole purpose of reproducing. And it makes a damn mess.

But now that I think about it, as I picture those white globs of cum on Storm’s chest as he finished, it doesn’tfeeldirty. It didn’tlookdirty. Sure, there was a mess, but even the times I’ve had to clean myself, it wasn’t difficult to do. Not like cleaning spilled syrup or tomato sauce. Now that is a pain to clean up. But cum? It’s not a lot of trouble.

I glance down at the bulge in my pajama pants and feel nothing but confusion. If this is only meant for a wife to make children with, why is it happening now?

I’m not so naïve or sheltered to think people don’t have premarital sex or same-sex sex. I know they do, and if that’s what they want to do with their lives, then they can. I have nothing against any of it, it’s just, for me… I don’t know anymore.

For so long I was sure I knew what I wanted in life and how my life was meant to be, but little things that Storm does have me questioning everything. Wondering if I’m living my life wrong. If my mother lied to me for her own sanity. Did my brothers save all of their cum for their wives, or were they just better at hiding what they were doing?

Why, after all these years, did I continue to listen to my mother and not touch myself? I don’t live there any longer. It’s doubtful I will ever have a wife, so… what if I did it just once?

I slide my free hand over the bulge, hesitating before grabbing onto my erection. I swallow hard, my heart thundering. My other hand is still holding onto the doorknob for dear life. What’s going to happen if I do this? No one is here to yell at me. My mother won’t know. And aside from that, I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions, right? Of course I am. Taking a deep breath, I squeeze. A whimper escapes my lips just as the shower shuts off and I jerk away from the door, hitting my knee on it so hard I yelp. I scurry back to my room and close the door, hoping like hell that Storm doesn’t realize I was standing there.

I pace my room, worried he’s going to find out I was listening to him like some kind of creep. Why did I do that? I would hate it if he did that to me. It’s weird! Not because he’s a guy, though that is new and freaking me out a little. It’s more to do with the fact that he in no way consented to me listening to him. I’m a terrible person. And the fact my dick is still hard and achingmakes it so much worse. I couldn’t possibly touch myself now… I’m too paranoid!

“Gabriel?” I pause, turning toward the door when Storm’s voice sounds way too close. His gaze goes from my face, down to where my pants are tented. “Fuck,” he mutters, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I just wanted to let you know the bathroom is free.”

Now he’s the one who hurries off. I should be embarrassed by this whole thing, but all I am is mad.

“Next time knock before you come into my room!” I call as I rush to the bathroom.

“Door was open!” he calls back just as I shut and lock the bathroom door.

My bedroom door was open? I closed it. At least… I think I did. Did I forget because I was panicking? It’s possible. My head is never on right when I’m in panic mode. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe I… maybe I wanted him to come in?

I stand by Marta’s car, waiting for her to get out. She has an assigned spot, but I’m always here before she is, and I wait for her by it.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she says brightly. Always happy, always loud. She’s smiling wider than normal. Her lips are glossy and her eyes are surrounded in dark makeup. She always looks nice for work, but today is a little extra. Even her dark hair is straight and down, not pulled into a ponytail like usual.

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