Page 35 of Nothing To Lose
I overheard part of his conversation with his father. And I know, without ever having heard a conversation between them, that he stood up for himself more than he ever has before. It's a great step forward, but then he took two steps back by berating himself for whatever he's feeling.
I wish I knew more of what happened between him and his date Friday night. He said he'd shown up drunk and treated him poorly. The drinking tracks with what Brenna had thought of him, and I knew he was acting douchey to everyone around him, especially the staff, but what was he saying or doing to Tyler to raise his hackles enough to lie to his father about being sick.
And why does he have to lie in the first place? Would his father pull some victim blaming bullshit if he knew Tyler was mugged? That wasn't his fault, just like his date's douchey behavior wasn't his fault.
I'm missing something, but until he feels comfortable enough to tell me, it's none of my business.
I watch him sleep for a while, listening to the cadence of his breaths until my eyes grow heavy too, and I climb in next to him. He's naked, so I pull on a pair of sleep shorts to put some fabric between us and cover us both with the blanket. I assumed we'd wake up in an hour or two to eat, but the next time I open my eyes, it's dawn.
Careful not to wake him, I begrudgingly untangle my limbs from Tyler's and sneak out of the room. I close all the doors between the bedroom and the main gym, then get to work on my morning workout routine. I haven’t done it in days and stretching out my limbs feels nice, so I lean into the yoga I do to get started. Then it's jump rope to get my blood pumping, body weight exercises, and a few rounds with a punching bag. Usually there's a run in there too, but I don't want to leave in case Tyler wakes up and finds me gone. He eventually wakes up and finds me, about twenty minutes into a heavy bag routine. His eyes are like a mood ring. The darker blue they get, the angrier, or hornier, he is. They're more green when he's feeling light and happy, or playful.
Right now, they're big, round, deep pools of navy watching me intently. They roam over my sweaty body while my chest heaves and I use a towel to wipe my face.
"Good morning," I say to break the tense silence.
"Indeed," he says, leaning back against the wall. "I can't even be mad about you leaving me in bed now."
"Is that so?" I chuckle.
"Mmm.Not when you look like that."
"You need to quit flirting before you get yourself in trouble."
"Really?" he asks incredulously. "And what kind of trouble are we talking about, because I'm very, very interested in getting into trouble."
I stalk forward, unable to keep myself away from his siren’s call. Is he even aware of what he does to me?
"Where is that shy virgin I met the other day?"
"You drowned him in the shower yesterday," he says flatly, not looking up from my chest. When I get close enough, he brushes a hand down my sternum and then thumbs over one of my nipple rings.
"Should I feel objectified?"
"Probably. Sorry, not sorry." He reaches down and adjusts himself in the sweatpants he must have pulled on when he left the bedroom.
"Fair. Because I'm not sorry that I get the same way when you put those big wire-framed glasses on," I say, leaning in to kiss him.
He rolls his eyes hard, but raises his arms to wrap around my neck. Or he tries to, but winces.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Ribs are sore, that’s all."
I rub a hand gently up and down his left side, nodding when I have a moment of clarity where I can stop thinking with my dick. This keeps happening. I tell myself I'm going to back off, and then he's in front of me and I'm surging full steam ahead. It has to stop, especially if it's hurting him.
"Let's get you an ice pack, then switch to a heating pad for a bit. It'll help, and it'll give us a minute to talk."
"Talk?" I raise my eyebrows and nod affirmatively. "That doesn't sound good."
Chuckling, I kiss his cheek and lead him to the couch, where I get him set up with an ice pack and a towel to protect his skin from the cold while I plug my electric heating pad in to warm up.
"First of all, I want to apologize, but also not apologize at the same time."
"What does that even mean?"
"I shouldn't have done that yesterday. In the shower," I tack on slowly, in case it wasn't obvious. "Not because I didn't want to or because I have any regrets. I don't, other than you being obviously sore today."
"I'm pretty sure it was all the painting and stuff, not what happened in the shower. I can handle it. I just overdid it a little."
