Page 14 of After the Rain
Aidan puts his cutlery back on his plate, neatly lined up next to each other and not haphazardly criss-crossed, and leans back in his seat, rubbing his tummy.
“Rain, that was so good. I only ever eat proper food when I’m at Mum and Dad’s, so this was awesome. Thank you.” His praise lights me up inside.
“What did you think of the toast?” He smiles, giving me that wide grin that has that pesky dimple popping out again! That’s twice! Twice, I’ve managed to get that dimple to pop.
“So good. I honestly thought you were a bit mad at first, but seriously, it was just so good.” I nod self-consciously and start to gather the plates. He places his bigger hand over mine to still my movements. “No, I’ll do the dishes. You cooked. Fair trade and all that.” He patsmy hand once before he gets up, grabs all the dishes, and starts rinsing them before loading the dishwasher. He even puts my leftovers in a little Tupperware and puts it in the fridge, making me smile.
I follow him and grab a couple of wine glasses from the cupboard and the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon he bought earlier. When I reach for the drawer to find a corkscrew, Aidan turns at the same moment, and I bump into his chest. He steadies me with his big hands on my shoulders, and I look up at his face. My breath punches out of me at the look in his eyes. Want. That’s want I see in his eyes. I’m quite sure it mirrors my own. Blazing with heat and seeing into my soul, I feel his gaze like a warm blanket. His thumbs softly rub small circles into my arms, and I swear I can feel his touch even through his T-shirt and fleece-lined plaid shirt that I’m still wearing, despite him bringing all my stuff out of my car before he took it to his sister. I lean forward, my body moving without my brain’s permission, and I think I’m going to kiss those lips that I can’t stop imagining. I see him look at my mouth too. Yep. This is happening.
My lips press to his, soft and pliant under my hesitant kiss, and I hear his breath sharply inhaled through his nose. He makes a delicious sound of want, and I feel his lips respond to mine.He tastes of the meal we ate and of something else uniquely Aidan. It’s comforting and safe, and I want to survive on it forever. When I tentatively tease his lips with the tip of my tongue, his mouth opens for me, and all of a sudden, I’m no longer kissing him. He’s kissing me. His hands move down my arms to my waist, and despite his enthusiasm, his touch is gentle, still cognisant of my aching ribs and bruised body. His hot tongue explores my mouth, and I whimper under his kiss.
This kiss is everything.
I feel my stomach swirl with want as his grip on me tightens, and I wrap my arms around his neck, clinging on for dear life. This man. This beautiful, gentle, sexy-as-fuck teddy bear lumberjack of a man kisses me like he wants to devour me, body and soul. My fingers tug at the elastic holding his man-bun in place on top of his head, and thread through his gorgeous hair as it tumbles down. He keeps the sides of his head shaved slightly, the length just on top, and the contrast between his silky tresses and the almost velvety sensation of his shaved sides is addictive. I want to stroke every inch of him from head to toe, and memorise every different texture, dip, and swell of his muscular body. He moves us so my body is pressed against the counter, and I make a small sound of protest as my backside pressesagainst the square edge. Suddenly, he’s gone. He clears his throat and steps back, the loss of his warm hands on me leaving me cold. I reach for him, but he steps back farther.
“Sorry. I-I shouldn’t have—” he mutters quietly and doesn’t meet my eyes. I touch my shaking fingers to my lips, confused about the sudden change of pace. He goes back to the dishwasher, and it takes me a second more to fully come around from my daze. I feel an embarrassed blush rise over my face. Fuck. I just made a complete fool of myself. I basically threw myself at him, and he reacted. He probably didn’t mean to kiss me, but just got caught up in a strange moment. I’m such a dick. He hasn’t even told me outright that he likes men. He’s hinted for sure, but maybe he’s just curious? And here I go, forcing myself on him like the desperate slut Dan accused me of being. Embarrassed and ashamed, I decide not to force my proximity on him any longer today. I go back to my task of finding the corkscrew, open the wine, and pour two very full glasses of the ruby liquid before grabbing my glass, and leaving his on the counter.
I slip out of the kitchen as quietly as I can while Aidan continues to load the dishwasher, before running a sink full of hot, soapy water to wash the bigger pan I used. I grab the green, snuggly blanket that lies on the back of the sofa.Juggling a wine glass and a blanket is a challenge when also trying to open a door without making a sound. I can still hear dishes clattering in the kitchen, so I’m pretty sure Aidan is distracted anyway. I gently nudge Pax’s nose back inside as I slip out the door, shoving my feet into my Converse as I do.
Taking a deep breath, I find myself walking down the path and around the side of the work shed to the quay heading, where Aidan held me as I cried just this morning. I climb onto the deck of one of the yachts Aidan built, still amazed by his talent, and creep carefully to the front of the boat that faces out to the river. Wrapping my blanket around me carefully so I don’t spill my wine, I sit on the deck and lean back against the mast. Only then do I take a deep breath and try to swallow the lump of humiliation in my throat.
Why did I do that? He’s never once all week indicated that he wanted to kiss me. Not explicitly anyway. He hinted. I think he did. Did he? Or did I see what I wanted to see? Was he just comforting me? I growl at myself in frustration and take a huge gulp of wine. I don’t even taste it. Just embarrassment, shame, and frustration, all of which are bitter.
I’ve never had the opportunity to stand on my own, which is pathetic for someone my age, I know. And now, the first chance I get to try tobe independent, I’ve latched onto Aidan like some needy barnacle that needs something strong to attach itself to. Why have I convinced myself that he’s interested in me? Am I that needy for affection? For fuck’s sake, I’ve been here for less than a week. He’s giving me a roof over my head and now a job, too. And what do I do? Risk it all by planting a kiss on him? I’m such a fucking cliché. A down-on-his-luck gay boy projecting his will onto the man who saved him. Fuck my life. I down the rest of my tasteless wine and place the glass down by my side, hoping the boat won’t suddenly lurch in one direction or the other and topple it into the water.
I can see my breath as I sit here, the boat beneath me bobbing ever so slightly in the gentle swell of the river. I can hear nothing but silence and the occasional hoot of an owl somewhere over the fields on the other side of the river. Even my tears fall silently as I go over every interaction with Aidan in the last week, the last few months with Dan, and that kiss. That life-altering, soul-shattering kiss that ended both too soon, and at the same time, should never have even started. My fingertips go to my lips of their own accord again, and I swear I can still feel his full lips pressing to mine, his tongue sweeping in to taste me as much as I tasted him, the slight sting of his thick beard as it rubbed against my skin. Howdo I come back from this? I clearly can’t stay here anymore. He mentioned that his sister is coming tomorrow to show me the ropes at my new job. A job I need more than anything if I have a hope of making myself less of a barnacle and becoming some sort of independent fucking adult. Maybe I’ll ask if she knows of any other accommodation options locally. I’m sure I can manage to do the job at Dream Boats with minimal contact with Aidan. It’s probably for the best. No doubt he doesn’t want to be around me anymore. Not now he knows what a shameless twat I am.
But I know he and his brothers need help with the business, and I want to pay him back in some small way for all the help he’s given me this last week. It’s the least I can do. I just need to find a way to convince my heart that I definitely did not fall in love with a man I barely know, less than a week after leaving an abusive relationship.
Piece of cake. Fuck, I exhaust myself.
Ten
Aidan
Iclose the dishwasher after setting it away to clean the dishes, then empty the sink and give the countertops one last wipe over. I think I’ve done a sterling job of avoiding the conversation with Rain that I need to have by stretching out cleaning my kitchen to half an hour, approximately twenty minutes longer than I usually take. I take a sip of my wine and brace myself to explain that I pulled away to prevent myself from coming in my pants like a pubescent boy who found his first porn site. I hope like hell that maybe he’s still interested in picking up where we left off now that I’ve calmed down and willed my dick into submission.
That kiss. Fuck. I’ve never been so turned on by a kiss in my life. His warm mouth, his tight body pressed against me, but most of all the way his small hands so gently cupped my cheeks and caressed my face. That felt like more. More thanjust a lusty kiss and a precursor to a one-night stand. That felt like affection? Care? Something else that I am terrified to name, yet I know that I’m feeling, even after only knowing Rain for a week? Could he possibly be having big feelings for me, too? I swallow most of my wine in one large gulp and decide to just grow a pair and have this conversation. I head towards the living room, talking to Rain as I approach.
“So, listen, Rain, erm, the reason I—” I stop in my tracks as I see he’s not even in the living room. Pax eyes me dolefully from his bed at the end of the sofa, and I swear he’s judging me, asking why I left it half an hour to come and talk to Rain. Maybe Rain assumed I was going to avoid him all night and has gone up to his room? Kicking myself for being a dickhead, I take the stairs two at a time and am soon standing outside Rain’s room. The door is slightly ajar, so I knock gently as I push the door open a touch more and peek my head around it.
“Rain? Can we talk?” I look around the relatively small space and see that Rain is clearly not in the room. The bed is made, the lights are all off, and the room is silent. Come to think of it, the whole house is silent. Dread fills my stomach. Where is he? Fuck, did I scare him so badly that he ran away rather than have to fight me off? After what he’s been through, I wouldn’t blamehim! I thought he was holding me closer to him, but maybe he was actually trying to keep from gettingtoo close? Fuck. Now I can’t think. Where the hell is he? I race back downstairs and look at the spot by the door where his shoes always lay and see it empty. I also notice his favourite blanket has gone from the back of the sofa.
“Shit,” I berate myself, grabbing both my and Rain’s coats from the stand after tugging my scruffy Timberland boots on my feet tying the laces right on the third fucking try. More haste, less speed, as Mum always says!
As I race out the door, the cold air hits me in the face, and the fog that has settled over the river lingers over the wet ground, wrapping all around me. I can only see the top half of the workshop as the fog has encased the bottom half, and the only visible parts of the yachts moored up are the tops of the masts emerging from the fog like flying pirate galleons in a children’s book might emerge from clouds.
“Rain?” I call frantically, terrified at this point that, in the fog, he’s tripped and fallen in the water. “Rain? Where are you?” I can hear the fear in my voice. I almost trip over my feet in my hurry to get to the workshop, but after pulling open the heavy door and flicking on the fluorescent lights, the absence of him is palpable in the space, and I already know he’s not in here. I don’t know why,but I can just feel it. I drag the door shut again, turning off the lights and extracting my hand in a practiced motion before the door slams and traps my arm. “Rain!” I call again, more urgently now, my panic rising by the second. I silence the voice in my head that does nothing but fuel my anxiety – now isnotthe time. I carefully navigate the slippery quay, heading round by the yachts, and stop when I hear something.
I crane my neck to see if I can hear it again. There! A slight sniff coming from the river. Fuck, what if he really has fallen in?
“Rain?” I call again and could almost throw up from the flip my stomach makes at his quiet voice.
“I’m here.” His voice sounds thick, and I hear another sniffle right away. Peering through the fog, I spot a vague outline at the front of Red Admiral and breathe a sigh of relief. That relief is quickly followed by a crushing wave of panic, and I have to force myself to breathe as I make my way to him at the front of the boat. He’s leaning against the mast, wrapped up in his blanket, looking tiny, cold, and broken, and, in that moment, I hate myself. I made him cry. I pushed him too hard, too fast. He’s only just coming out of an abusive relationship, for fuck’s sake, and I all but forced myself on him. Without warning, my breaths come shorter and shorter until I feellike I’m suffocating, and the weight of anxiety on my chest feels like I might die in minutes. My fingers start to feel like I have pins and needles, and I can’t fill my lungs properly. My chest aches with the weight of the anxiety pressing on me, crushing me until I just know I’m going to be flattened on the deck of this boat.
I choke on my shallow breaths and close my eyes tight shut when I see Rain start to turn towards me. I can’t see his tear-stained face right now. I can’t. He’s beautiful. Beautiful and amazing and kind and gentle, and I fucking made him cry by forcing myself on him and then pushing him away. What must he think of me? That I’m the same kind of arsehole who’ll play the same kind of mind games that fucking prick he just escaped must have played with him too. I should go inside and leave him alone, help him find somewhere else to go. But right now, I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I can’t believe I made him cry. All these thoughts circulate in my brain as my breathing gets more and more laboured.
All of a sudden, I feel soft, cold hands cupping both my cheeks again, and my eyes fly open, meeting his sparkling aquamarine eyes instantly. Expecting to see hatred in them, I’m shocked to see concern and worry on his face, his forehead creased, and his brows pressed together.
