Page 134 of Scoring the Player
I kiss the side of his face. “What?” I ask as he frowns. The beginnings of a mask appear. “Stop. Spit it out.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Speak.”
He breaks free of my hold but doesn’t move from my lap. “It’s just…we’re on other sides of the country.” He cards his hands through his curls as I rub his thighs.
“Blue, you could live on another continent…fuck, another planet, and I’d still want to be with you.”
“But didn’t you and Lucien stop dating because he moved to France?”
“Yeah?”
His eyebrows droop and then swoop up.
Ping.
“Is it starting to sink in that you’re in a league of your own?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t you get bored with me?”
“No. And honestly, with the kind of life we lead, I dream of boring days with you.”
When he doesn’t respond, I ask, “You heard me?”
He tenses in my lap. “What about days spent with someone diagnosed with CPTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, and persistent depressive disorder?”
I sensed some PTSD from him when he told me about his dad, though I’d have to look up what the C stands for. I knew about his depression from his coming-out article.
“I said what I said,” I answer. “Though I pegged you as more avoidant than anxious.”
Like my brother.
“The avoidance is from anxiety.”
“Oh.”
“I’m on meds.”
I nod. “I’ll do my own research, but will you tell me what it’s like?”
His brows crease. “What what’s like?”
“To be you.” I lean up and kiss his cheek.
His shoulders relax a little. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you struggle with anything?”
I think about it. “Nothing I’ve been diagnosed with. Sometimes when I feel like things are spiraling out of control, I…uh…get bad anxiety, but it doesn’t stay for long.”
“Hmm. How aren’t you always anxious? I never feel like things are in my control.”
I think about my brother. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”
Arnaz
