Page 133 of Gym Bros
He did not like that atall.
It’s not all bad, though. Besides the complaining, he’s actually being really sweet. I’m in bed, where he wanted me, between his legs, resting my head on his chest. His touches are tender, and the position itself is protective. It occurs to me whilewe’re watching another episode ofThe Falcon and the Winter Soldierthat if I were alone, I’d be feeling pretty sorry for myself tonight. It’s true, I did win the match, but I let a couple of cheap shots through, and I could have done better. Also, I hurt everywhere and not just the places it’s obvious.
Knowing how miserable I would be without him makes being with him so much better. I feel warm and content. Grateful. In love.
I’m pretty sure it’s love. I figure since he’s the only person I want to be with, the only one whose opinion actually matters to me, the only one I like to touch and talk to and definitely the only person I want in my bed whether he’s mad at me or not, it’s probably love. His presence makes my heart feel so full it hurts.
It’d be easy to tell him that right now. A perfect time really because it’s one of the rare occasions where we likely won’t have sex. He’d fight me if I said it, though. Tell me I’m too young, and I don’t have enough experience, or he’ll find some other logical reason I couldn’t possibly be in love with him.
But for me, it’s more like—how could I not be? If I had my phone, I’d take a picture of us right now just so I could show it to him as proof.
I’m not saying it, though. If the timing is perfect for me to tell him, it’s good timing for him, too. So I thread my fingers through the ones he has splayed on my chest and kiss his inner arm. He squeezes my hand. Three times.
His knees are bent at my sides. Sighing, I run my other hand up and down the back of his bare thigh.
“Can we watch something else after this?” he asks. “I’m having trouble getting into it.”
“Whatever you want,” I tell him.
“What happens when we’re done with all the Marvel stuff?”
“We break up.”
He laughs softly. “Oh, well shit. We should definitely pause this one then.”
“You wanna stay with me a little longer, baby? Drag this whole thing out?”
“At least through the holidays.”
“What do you do for the holidays?” I ask.
“Depends. What do you do?”
“The usual. Go home. Get fed. Sleep a lot. I usually get a bunch of new clothes.”
“Ah, well, sounds like a win-win.”
“Seriously, what do you do?” I ask.
“Last year I was in Australia. There were a lot of parties. It was summer there.”
“What about on Christmas day?”
“I was probably hungover. I don’t remember.”
“Where do your parents live?” I ask. This is one of those topics that probably should have come up before, and maybe it has, but he’s pretty good at distracting me if he doesn’t want to talk about something. Parents are one of those things for whatever reason.
“My mom lives in Miami, and my father lives in Boston.”
“Oh.”
“We’re not close,” he says. “Obviously.”
“How’d you wind up here?” I ask.
“No particular reason. I just like it here. California in general. Great architecture,” he says.
I smile. “Well, if we haven’t finished all the Marvel shows by the holidays, we could maybe do something together.”
