Page 116 of Faithful

He leans in and rests his chin in the curve where my shoulder meets my neck and says in a voice coarsened by his earlier cries of ecstasy, “Stay like this with me for a second, baby. I don’t want to let you go yet.”

I’m emptied and boneless and absolutely not coherent and if he were to ask me to walk into a fire now, I probably would without questioning his intentions.

“I love you,” Kai whispers into the hollow of my throat as we finally lower ourselves onto the cum- and sweat-stained bed covers. He doesn’t look at me. His jaw, lightly stubbled, is still buried in the space beneath my chin, his breaths fanning against my collarbone. He lifts his hips and pulls away to free my cock and then stretches on top of me, warm and sticky.

A thought of needing to clean up lingers somewhere in the periphery of my mind, but my brain is currently on vacation. All it cares about is the man lying in my arms and the future that’s finally become a reality and not a dream. The future where I can touch him whenever I want, even in public. The future where we’re not cornered into sneaking around to see each other. The future where I don’t need to pretend to be something I’m not and I have someone on my side, someone to walk me through these first few scary steps.

Yes, I made the right decision by bringing Kai to the Christmas party, I think to myself as he quietly slips from the bed.

There’s the sound of the door opening, then running water out in the shared bathroom and his light footsteps returning to my bedroom so he can clean up whatever mess we made.

“Move,” he says, nudging my side.

I roll over.

A towel is thrown over the wet spot and I’m rolled back.

“I probably should have done that,” I mumble into his cheek as he lies down next to me.

“It’s okay.” He places a kiss on my forehead. “You’re on cleaning duty next time. Now get some rest. If my memory serves me right, you still have to work tomorrow.”

* * *

The text message alert wakes me up from my euphoric post-sex slumber an unidentified amount of time later.

The lamp has been turned off and the room is mostly dark. I’m covered by whatever part of the blanket I’m not lying on. Cold air skims over the portion of my shoulder that’s bared.

Instantly, as I reach over the edge of the bed and blindly grope at the carpet in an attempt to find my phone and set it on silent, I register the absence of Kai’s warmth next to me.

I desert what I’m doing and spin around, my eyes landing on the outline of his silhouette. He’s standing in front of the window with it slightly open. There’s a cigarette in his mouth and his phone in his hand and he’s wearing his boxers.

I realize the text message wasn’t for me but for him.

“Hey.” I lift my head from the pillow and study his profile. “Everything okay?”

Kai tosses the phone on the desk and inhales deeply without looking at me.

Watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, I sit up. The blanket slips away, exposing my body to the cold that has trickled into the room through the open window. My pulse trips at the sight of the frown on his face when he finally turns his head to me.

I can sense that something is wrong, but another ping of the phone–this time clearly mine since it’s coming from the vicinity of the floor–cuts through the growing tension.

I glance down and note yet another Google alert flashing on the screen with Kai’s name in it.

“Shit.” I pick up the phone and swipe at the preview.

Is This Mysterious Young Man the One Who Iodine’s Enigmatic Lead Singer Kai Delisa Has Been Kneeling For?

My heart stops.

I frantically scroll through the article, skimming over the text and the pictures. Pictures of us in the 7-Eleven parking lot. Kai is flipping off the camera on his way to the car in most of them, but there are several that feature me. Well, the back of my head to be more specific. Not my face, just the mop of honey-blond curls webbing his fingers. Only an idiot would deny the fact that we’re an item. The way he’s cradling me to his chest is not something two dudes would do unless they are intimately familiar with each other’s bodies.

For a second there, my throat is tight with panic, and I can’t vocalize a single word.

Instead, I offer Kai my phone.

Cigarette in between his lips, he takes a moment to read the article, his expression stony.

“Are you okay?” he asks once he’s done.

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