Page 113 of As the Years Pass
“Jesus.” I breathe out, shaking my head and trying to ignore the shame and guilt that flares up now that I’m done. I wipe my hand on my boxers, get to my feet and pull them off. I shove them into the bag of dirty laundry before going into the bathroom and getting a towel to clean up better and wipe off the glob of cum that made it to my pillow.
I’ve obviously lost my mind. I just jerked off to the building settling, hoping it was Emmet doing the same thing. It’s nearly three in the morning, there’s no way he was on the other side doing the same damn thing as I was.
“You’re an idiot, Adam. A fucking idiot.”
I grab a pair of pajama pants to put on before tossing the dirty towel into the corner of the bathroom. I shut the TV off and get into bed, finally able to fall asleep.
A knock on my door wakes me, and I get out of bed and rub my burning eyes as I walk to it. Peering through the peephole, I find Emmet on the other side, in his pajamas. I pull open the door.
“Hey,” I say.
“Sorry, were you still sleeping?”
“Yeah, it’s okay.”
“I texted but you didn’t answer. Wanted to make sure you were good.”
“I’m good.” I clear my throat. “Everything okay?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s raining out, and I wanted to get breakfast but… it’s raining.” He huffs a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. He looks so fucking hot right now.
I move aside. “Come in.” He nods as he steps through, and I go back to my bed and lie down. “Come on.” I pat the bed, and he doesn’t hesitate to get in, crawling under the blankets with me. I turn on my side to face him and close my eyes. “I slept like shit last night.”
“Me too.”
“Let’s just go back to sleep.”
I slide my arm over his waist and scoot closer, breathing in his scent. I drift in and out of sleep, lying there with him, his scent soothing, his body heat calming. Just knowing he’s here with me is enough to have every worry leaving my body, and I finally relax.
When I wake sometime later, I find him awake and staring at the ceiling. I jerk back.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He looks at me, not enough emotion on his face for me to know what he’s thinking. Which tells me all I need to know.
He’s upset.
“I’m sorry, Emmet,” I say again. “I slept like shit and I wasn’t thinking right.”
He blinks a few times, then turns his attention back to the ceiling before taking a deep breath and letting it out.
“It’s okay,” he finally says.
I roll onto my back and throw my arm over my face.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, though I know it means nothing.
He doesn’t respond. Emotion clogs my throat and my eyes burn.
I’m fucking everything up. I’ve fucked this all up. I’ve hurt him and I don’t know why. And I keep doing it. I’m only hurting him more now, and why? For my own selfish reasons. I can’t keep playing with him like this. It’s fucked up.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” I admit.
The room is silent, nothing but the wind and the rain from outside. The heavy waves crashing into the surf.
“I do,” he finally says.
My arm falls from my face, and I turn my head to look at him. His brow is pinched, still looking up at the ceiling as if he can’t bare to look at me. I can’t blame him. I don’t deserve for him to be here. Honestly, I don’t know why he’s here at all. I don’t know why he’s still being nice to me. I don’t know why he invited me here. I don’t deserve anything from him.
