Page 37 of Forever Not Yours

I blushed, because I hadn’t even touched my own plate, too busy staring at him.

I was a wanker. I nodded in agreement with myself.

“Green,” he said. “I know you’re going to ask. Any minute.”

I met his tentative smile with one of my own. “Are you all right?” One question amongst many, but I was holding back, letting him rest.

“It’s got a bit of yellow around the edges. Only because I have no clue what’s going on. Red too, because there are definitely things I don’t want to even think about right now.”

Honesty. I loved that.

“Jake, what’s happening here? What are we actually doing?” He put down his fork and sat back on the sofa. Then leaned forward again. “I don’t know what’s happening here. I have no clue, and it’s really fucked up, because I feel better than I have in ages, but at the same time, there’s so much shite I still have to deal with.”

“Good.” That was my one-word reply, too shell-shocked at him talking this much. Admitting things. Feelings? He had them. So many of them, despite hiding everything so well, masking everything with bravado when his whole life was a mess. I could see it. Feel it.

“What’s going on here?” I had to be careful with my own words.

I took a breath. I wanted to pick him up and hold him again, kiss his hairline, stroke my fingers over his collarbone that I could see through his worn-out top, trace the dip in his chest. Caress all that he was. Recapture all the years we’d missed out on, when I could have been making him happy.

I wondered if I’d ever be able to.

“I’m trying to show you what your life could be like, if you went along with this. Being with me instead of chasing around after something that doesn’t cause you anything but anxiety.”

“Do you think you could make me happy? You just told me I was naughty and spanked the shit out of my arse.”

Truth. I had no right to try to lecture him. No correct answers to give.

“Yes, and I did that because we both wanted it, and needed it, and most of all, we both enjoyed it. My spunk-stained jeans are proof of that. Would you like me to retrieve them out of the laundry basket and remind you what they look like? Stained in two places. Your cum and mine. Are you complaining?”

“Am I allowed to? You told me I had to do as I’m told. All weekend.”

“Yes. Because if you don’t, you’ll fret around and go to sleep on the sofa and be all miserable. Have you been miserable today?”

So many questions. I was getting tired of them too. He rolled his eyes at me but seemed to calm down.

“Juliet keeps texting me, asking when I can come pick up my stuff. She’s in another of her frenzies. It’s been a week or two, and she’s already permanently kicking me out. Packing up my stuff and…well. It’s her place.”

“It is,” I agreed.

Here we were again, frazzled, all that intimacy we’d built seemingly gone in an instant.

“Do you want her back?” I asked.

Nothing. Just him looking anywhere but at me.

“What do you want, Bastien?” I leant forward, staring him down. I needed answers. I needed to know where we stood. “Do you want to be here or not? Go back to Juliet? Or is there anyone else? I have all these questions, and you need to start talking to me. I can’t bear the uncertainty.”

He swallowed, looked at his plate.

“I need you to tell me what’s going on. Right now,” I pushed, thought I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer anymore when it might break my heart.

He didn’t offer one either. Instead, he just stood up and calmly said, “Red.”

Getting back to my routine was a welcome relief, my head feeling the effects of the weekend.

I hadn’t drunk a drop, and my blood sugars had been immaculately stable. The emotional toll,though, had drained me to the core, and sitting in my office felt good, normal, a nice green timeline where I didn’t have to balance too hard.Green. I snickered under my breath.

He was right: it had made us communicate in a safe, manageable way, even though I was now sitting here feeling anything but green. Yellow, massive flames of red in the background.

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