Page 20 of Taking Care of You
Ethan reaches out and pulls me to his chest and I let the tears flow, even though I don’t outwardly break down. I’m content to just sit like this for as long as he wants to hold me. The tears come from years of hurt and resentment from being reduced to my sexuality and not knowing if people have motives for being kind to me. The most hurtful thing is the person that’s made me feel this way the most is my mother, the one person that’s supposed to be in my corner unconditionally.
After I get all the tears out, I pull back from him and lean back against the seat.
“What’s wrong?” Ethan’s voice is soft and patient, making me fight back tears once again.
Pulling in a shuddering breath, I say, “I’ve never had anyone do something this nice for me before. It makes me wonder if you…want something in return.”
He waves me away. “No, creep. You don’t have to pay me back. I want to?—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Something. In return.”
I wait for him to grasp what I’m saying. Then he clenches his jaw, turning to face me fully. “Did someone do that to you? Made you feel like if they bought you something, you had to give them some ass?” I wince at his words. He almost sounds like my mother with how blunt he worded the question. “Was it Tim?”
“No one did that. It’s just…what I heard.” I’m not ready to tell him about my mother’s toxic words. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He turns to face the steering wheel and starts the car. “Jakoby, I’m going to say this, and I hope you hear it and believe it. This friendship,” he looks at me and gestures between us, “comes without conditions. I’m not asking you to do anythingbut be my friend. I don’t want money, I don’t want sex. Just your friendship. Okay?”
I nod, blinking away tears. Before I can lose my nerve, I say, “Can you please tell me that again if you feel like I don’t believe it or if I’m doubting you?”
Ethan wipes a stray tear from my cheek. “If that’s what you need, I will. I don’t have a problem with that. It’s true, so I’ll repeat it as often as you need to hear it.”
Squeezing his arm, I thank him, then lean my head against the window. He pulls up a playlist on his phone and turns the radio up, letting me sing away my sorrows.
I’m still feelingdown when we get back to his place. Ethan cracked a few jokes to try to get me out of my slump, but it’s not working.
Once inside, he takes my hand—a habit he seems quite fond of—and pulls me into the living room. “I know what will help,” he says, turning on YouTube and pulling up a random music playlist.
He starts dancing around me and I follow him with my eyes until I no longer can and have to turn with him. He snaps his fingers and sticks his booty out, slapping it. That pulls a small laugh out of me.
“Come on,” he orders gently, grabbing both my hands in his, sliding his fingers between mine. I shiver and hope like hell he didn’t catch it. “Dancing is fun.”
Reluctantly, I pull my hands from his, smiling slightly. I tuck my hands into my back pockets and shuffle my feet. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can,” he says, grabbing my hands again. He holds them tighter when I try to pull them away. I let them relax and move side to side like he is, following his moves.
“No, I mean I can’t dance. At all.” I’m not kidding. I’m the poster child for having two left feet.
He spins me around, making me laugh out loud, something I don’t think I’ve done in a while. Not the small laughs I give him, but the full laugh I usually reserve for something crazy Crystal says.
Ethan pulls me in to him with a smile. “Feeling better?”
I nod and have to hold myself back from leaning my head on his chest. “Yes, I’m fine. I just get…down sometimes.”
“It’s fine, creep. If you need to talk about anything, or if you want company for any reason, you can call me. We’re friends. I’ll always be there for you.” After I agree, he separates us but doesn’t let go of my hands. “So, dancing. It’s easy. You just have to move to the music. As long as you’re on beat, you’re good.”
The song that’s playing now is pretty upbeat, so he shows me how to move to the beat and I try to follow what he does. I don’t even feel bad when he laughs at me because I really can’t dance. But that doesn’t matter. I’m having a lot of fun learning.
After three or four more pop songs, a slower song comes on. I make a move to sit down, but Ethan grabs me around the waist and hauls me to his body. My hands land on his pecs and my breath rushes out of me. I will my dick not to chub up while he’s holding me, but it’s hard—no pun intended. It’s no use. Ethan’s proximity and how good he smells goes straight to my cock.
I try to shove off, but Ethan has a tight grip around my waist. Fuck, this is embarrassing. I cant my hips away so he doesn’t feel the raging erection I have.
“The rules for slow dancing are easy,” he says conversationally, as if I’m not hyperventilating because he’s holding me so close. “Grab your girl,” I give him a look thatmakes him laugh. “Sorry, grab yourguyby the waist and sway side to side. You don’t have to do much more than that.” As he talks, his voice gets lower and lower, and he leans closer and closer into me.
Slowly, Ethan drags his hand from my waist and up my back. It comes to a rest against the back of my neck, the warm weight holding me in place. My breath comes out in short, shallow pants and I look up at him with wide eyes. Ethan’s breathing syncs with mine and he tightens his fingers on my nape.
Our bodies sway together, locked in whatever is going on between us right now. The song has long since gone off, but we don’t make a move to break apart. Maybe we should. Maybe this is crossing a friendship boundary, but his arms feel too good around me to ask him to move them.
I’m not sure what’s going on here. It started as a dance lesson and now it’s … this. Is he still teaching me? Or does he find holding me as comfortable as I find being in his arms? From the look in his eyes, it’s almost like he’s feeling what I am. Feeling bold, I press into him more and immediately freeze. Wait…is that his?—
