Page 49 of He Should Be Mine
The shower heats up quickly, and it’s glorious. I get to work scrubbing. The scent of peach fills the air. I don’t want to think about Rick anymore. I want to think happy thoughts.
My mind goes straight to Dario. As if he is my automatic happy place. And then I remember the argument we had earlier. I wince. Damn it. Why did I have to lose my shit like that? I said too much. Far too much.
I thought you liked me.
Talk about cringe.
You are all, I bet he is a nice boy really. I bet I can save him and take him away from all of this.
Double cringe.
Me and my big mouth. I know he doesn’t like me or want to save me. It’s my own private little fantasy. There was no need for him to hear it.
He wants to fuck me, but fucking doesn’t mean a thing. I know that better than anyone. I’m just the first gay boy Dario has known and he has imprinted on me. Like a duckling.
My snort laugh echoes around the tiles. Duckling. It is so going to be what I’m calling Dario from now on. He’ll never know why. And it will annoy the hell out of him. It’s perfect.
If I can ever bear to face him again.
I groan and start shampooing my hair. It’s fine. I was rattled by Rick’s wife and said stupid stuff. I can brush it off. Tell him it doesn’t mean anything. He is wrong to think I’m infatuated with him. It was just the stress of being accosted by Isabella.
The image of her dark eyes, full of disgust, flashes before me. It burns into me once more.
The whole thing was a hideous replay of being caught with Steve. His wife had seriously lost her shit. I suppose it was a bit of a shock for her. Nice house in the suburbs. Nice respectable geography teacher as a husband. So finding him in your bed with one of his pupils can’t have been pleasant.
It was a hell of a way for my first relationship to end. If only I could have afforded therapy. Though, thinking about it, the kid’s home probably should have provided some. I was clearly a mess.
I sigh and turn off the shower. There is no point in dwelling on ancient history.
I pull on a fluffy robe and give my hair a quick towel dry. Just so it doesn’t drip onto my shoulders. Then I step back out into my bedroom. Time to strip the sheets.
I work methodically and efficiently. It’s a task that is engraved in to my muscles. I shove the dirty bedding into the sealed laundry bag, ready for the next service collection. Then I quickly make up the bed with fresh covers.
When I’m done, I step back to admire my handiwork. I’m clean, my bed is clean. But somehow my room still smells of Rick. I don’t think air freshener is going to do anything. It is probably not really a scent, it is his presence that is lingering.
Nevermind, it’s not like I’m going to be able to sleep, anyway. I might as well go and make a hot chocolate and watch the TV on mute, so I don’t wake Dario.
I tiptoe carefully down the hallway. All the lights are off, but the blinds in the living room are open, so there is enough city light to see by. Streetlights. Car headlights. Lights shining from the windows of homes and offices.Whites and ambers with a few streaks of red. It’s pretty, if a little sterile.
Sometimes I stand by my window and look out at the night while thinking about how the world has been inverted. For thousands of years, lights shone down from above. Stars guiding the way. Now the stars have been obscured and the light shines from below.
As I step into the living room. A red ember glows by the sofa and the smell of cigarette smoke hits me. I am not alone.
“Motherfucker!” I exclaim as I nearly jump out of my skin.
Why the fuck is Dario sitting in the dark in the middle of the night? Like something carved of shadows and menace?
“Are you alright?” he rumbles.
“No!” I yell. “You just gave me a fucking heart attack!”
He takes another drag of his cigarette. “Apart from that.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Why do you care?”
“I care a lot.”
The softly spoken words hang in the air between us. They steal all of the oxygen. My heart was just calming down, now it is beating faster than ever. I should tell it to slow. I should let my heart know that it is mistaken. Dario doesn’t care. Not really. Not like that. Despite what he just said.
