Page 3 of Taking Care of You
“You following me, creep?” I hear his gravelly voice behind me. I whirl around, barely keeping my balance.
There he is, standing in an alley between two apartment buildings, leaning against the wall. It’s weird how he’s only eighteen but has sounded like a grown man for as long as I can remember.
Unsure how to answer, I stammer, “No. I was…I uh…” I mean, I technicallywasfollowing him, but I’m not being a creep.
At least, not on purpose.
“You were…?” He waves his hand, leading me to finish my sentence. It’s only then that I notice he’s smoking a cigarette. Leaning against the wall, one foot propped up with a smoke in his hand, he looks like a cigarette ad model from the eighties.
I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. “Those are bad for you,” I say, pointing to the cigarette he brings to his lips.
He takes a pull, then looks at the bright red cherry at the end. “Huh, never would have thought,” he responds sarcastically as he ashes it. “Why are you following me, creep?”
“Stop calling me that, please.” My voice comes out soft, softer than I intend it to. It’s usually deeper than my size would portray, but at this moment, none of the bass is present.
“Why? You’re following me around dark corners. Being creepy and shit. If the shoe fits,” he says with a shrug. My face heats and I drop my head. He’s right. It is a bit creepy. “What do you want?”
I shrug, toeing the rocks on the ground. “I wanted to see if you needed someone to walk you home. You’ve been drinking.” I raise my head to look at him.
He eyes me, head tilted like he doesn’t know what to make of me. Hell, join the club;Idon’t know what to make of me. I’m a five-five skinny dude. He’s a jacked six-two athlete that I’m sure is more than capable of taking care of himself. There’s not muchI can do to protect him that he can’t do himself. But…I don’t know. He just seems like he needs someone.
That sounds stupid, even in my own thoughts. He’s a popular guy with tons of friends. He doesn’t need me.
“You wanna take care of me?” he asks with a smirk.
I scoff and start to walk away. “I was just trying to be helpful,” I murmur, feeling humiliated. Of course he would tease me.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and start to head back to the party, my face burning with embarrassment.
His hand is suddenly on my wrist, pulling me to a stop. My head snaps up to meet his gaze. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I shouldn’t have said that. That’s not…” He takes a deep breath as he drops my arm. “You can walk home with me. I’m not drunk, but I’ll take the company.”
I’m stunned, but I try not to show it. I mean, he’s just a guy. A guy I’ve had a crush on for a few years, but still, just a guy.
Nodding, I stand beside him until he’s done smoking. I fight not to wave away the cloud of smoke that drifts over to me.
A small smile ghosts his lips. “Think I need to quit?” I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t turn in his direction. I’m already struck stupid just standing next to him. Eye contact will probably undo me.
Shrugging, I say, “It’s healthier, but I wouldn’t tell you what to do.” I think my voice sounds pretty normal, even though the butterflies dancing in my belly are trying to make an escape.
Ethan chuckles and flicks the half-finished cigarette. “Just for you, creep, I’ll quit.”
“You should want to do it for yourself,” I murmur, ducking my head, enjoying how he calls me creep. It didn’t seem like a dig that time, it sounds kind of like a pet name. God, I really am weird.
He pushes off the wall and we start walking down the street.
I don’t know why I offered to walk him home. I don’t even know where he lives. Walking him home is probably foolish, since I live about ten miles in the opposite direction. I’m not sure howI’llget home. Fuck, I did not think this through.
“I’m over past Third,” he says. “Is that close to your place?”
Of course he stays in the wealthy part of town. His parents are loaded. His dad owns the largest bank in the state and his mother is a highly sought after OB/GYN. I don’t know why I expected him to live anywhere else.
I’m embarrassed to tell him where I live. For lack of a better term, it’s the other side of the tracks. It’s a place where selling drugs and gang activity isn’t unheard of.
I fucking hate it there, but I’m almost free. After this school year, I can make my escape. Thanks to filling out enough forms to have my hands cramping for days, I snagged an out-of-state academic scholarship in California. My plan is to find a way to scrape up enough money for a plane ticket and leave just before the semester starts.
My parents don’t even know about my scholarship, but it’s not like they’ll notice. My father works so much, he probably forgot I exist. My mom…well, she’s another story. Neither of them gave a shit about me after they found out I’m gay.
I rub my hands together nervously. “I stay off Shire Drive,” I say in a low voice. No one travels down Shire Drive unless they want to buy drugs or they live there. And I don’t do drugs.
