Page 35 of Always Mine

“Yeah, I didn’t have a change of clothes.” He looks down, face flushing slightly. “This will have to do. I’ll wash what I can in the bathroom.”

I’ll blame what I do next on the fact that I feel sorry for him because there’s no way I would ever do this under normal circumstances. Reaching into my backseat, I grab my gym bag and then ruffle through it, snagging a shirt for him. I toss it onto his seat and point at it. “Here. It’s a little wrinkled, but at least it’s not dirty.”

He stares at it for a long moment before nodding. He unfastens and removes his brace before slowly tugging off his shirt.

Fuck. If I were a stronger man, I would’ve looked away, but the moment his abs come into view, I'm a goner. Sue me. I’m a gay man and Paxton’s body is damn perfect, no matter how much I hate him.

I’m really weak.

He has changed, though. His boyish frame is long gone, replaced with the body of a hardworking athlete. He’s thicker, more defined, and I can make out the cut of every muscle along his torso. My hungry gaze follows the course of the shirt, every inch of skin exposed like a Christmas present being unwrapped.

Then I feel it happening. God, I don’t want it, but my dick has a mind of its own, and before I know it, I'm stuck.

I’m stuck in the way he used to touch me, the gentle hands that gripped me so sweetly, and the dirty words that poured into my ear as he filled me again and again until I couldn’t believe in anything apart from us.

But then I see that tattoo on his chest, the same tattoo we got together when we were eighteen, dumb, and in love.

It’s also the same one I got removed two summers ago because I couldn’t handle seeing it every day.

I blink hard, reality slamming back into me. What the hell am I doing? My eyes shoot up to his and I’m thankful he’s not looking at me. How humiliating would that be for him to know I was checking him out? I’d probably die right here. Just roll out the truck and demand the earth open and swallow me whole. No way I’d come back from that.

Turning away, I shut my eyes and lean my head back, trying to act like I’m going to sleep. All the while my ears are hyper alert as I try to gauge how long it’s taking him to change his shirt. I count to sixty-three before I finally hear the snaps of his brace. Jesus, that took entirely too long.

I try to slow my breaths, hoping it’ll make him think I really fell asleep so he’ll leave. I don’t want to see him in my clothes. Why in the hell did I give him my shirt? That was stupid. Top ten dumbest decisions I’ve ever made.

“I’ll be back,” he says, clearly not getting the fuck off vibes I’m sending.

I grunt before turning my head more toward the window.

Leave, damn it. Just go away.

“I’ll be an hour, tops.”

I grunt again, getting annoyed the longer he lingers.

It’s silent, too silent, and I’m about to break my cover and tell him to fuck off when the door shuts.Hallelujah.I wait for a long time, wanting to make sure he’s not just standing on the other side of the door to catch me fake sleeping.

I feel so lame.

After what I’m sure is a solid five minutes, I peek my eyes open, doing a slow sweep of my surroundings with squinty eyes to ensure he’s really gone.

I need to get my life together and fast.

When I don’t see him, I decide to go for a walk to regroup. I refuse to let Paxton get back under my skin. Not now, or ever again.

* * *

“You hungry?”Paxton asks when we’re almost back to Hixley.

“Nope,” I mutter, focusing on the road. I wish he’d stop trying to make small talk. He was deathly silent on the ride there, but now, he won’t shut up. He keeps asking me random things every five minutes.

Like, dude, take a hint.

“Oh, well, I’m starving.”

“Good for you.” The words are past my lips before I have a chance to suck them back. I shouldn’t say anything like that because it only fuels him. Ignoring him is way better, he tends to be more quiet then.

“You want to take pity on me and grab something to eat? I’ll buy.”

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