living room and sit down in front of the shelf that has my DVDs on it.
“So, a comedy, huh?” I skim the titles, searching for one I think would be good.
“I like funny movies. Life’s depressing enough without spending time watching movies that suck the life from your soul.”
I glance up at him and find him staring at his scars again. “Seth… I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I wish you would. I can handle the ugly stuff… I know it exists.”
“Knowing it exists and experiencing it are two different things… it changes you, you know?” When I don’t say anything, he sets his bowl down and sighs. “I’m still not ready to tell you where the scars came from, but if you want, I can tell you a little bit about myself.”
I nod, inching closer to him. “You know I want to hear it.”
He blows a stressed breath as he rests back on his hands. “I used to be this really funny person.”
“What do you mean used to ? You still are.”
“No, I’m different now. I mean, I’m still funny and everything, but half the time it feels like I’m running on autopilot. Jokes come naturally to me and it’s easier just to laugh stuff off.” He leans forward and rubs his arm. “I didn’t tell my mother I was gay. She just sort of found out after… something happened. She wasn’t happy at all. Told me I deserved what happened to me. She almost threw me out of the house, but after some pathetic begging on my part, she let me stay. Honestly, I wish I could’ve left sooner, but I didn’t have anywhere to go.” He shrugs. “And that’s pretty much the gist of it.”
My heart aches for him to the point that my chest actually hurts. “The thing that happened… does it have to do with how you got the scars on your arm?”
He nods, swallowing hard.
“Did you…” I shift my weight so that I’m facing him. “Did your mom hurt you?”
“No, it was nothing like that.”
I think about asking him if it was the guy he dated. When he briefly talked about him while we were at the Red Ink, I got the sense something bad happened between the two of them.
Before I can say anything, he sits up straight and says, “Can we drop it, please? I’d rather do anything else than talk about my depressing life.”
I don’t want to drop it at all. I want to find out who hurt him. Find out what’s causing all that pain in his eyes right now. But I don’t think pushing him is going to help.
“What movie do you want to watch?” I set my ice cream down. “Any one you want, I’ll watch.”
“I’m actually not really in the mood to watch a movie anymore,” he mumbles, staring at the window just over my shoulder.
Figuring he means he wants to go back to his dorm, I start to get to my feet, even though I’m not ready for him to go. “Okay, I’ll walk you.”
“Greyson, that’s not what I meant.” Without warning, his fingers wrap around my arm and he pulls me straight down to his mouth.
I worry the kiss might be a distraction from whatever he’s running from, but I get too lost in the feel of his lips to stop it. I kiss him back, our tongues tangling as he grips at my arms. My muscles flex under his hands and he constricts his grasp.
We kiss and kiss and kiss, just like I’ve imagined doing tons of times. Somehow, we end up lying on the floor, a mess of tangled arms and legs. I only move back to reach around and tug my shirt over my head. He follows my lead and peels his off, too.
My fingers travel over his lean muscles as he slips his hand across my abs. They tauten as his fingers start to drift downward to the button of my jeans. I realize where this is heading, but I’m not sure I want to go there yet. In the past, I rushed into the physical aspects of a relationship without really taking the time to get to know someone. I probably know Seth better than I know anyone else, but it still feels like
“So, a comedy, huh?” I skim the titles, searching for one I think would be good.
“I like funny movies. Life’s depressing enough without spending time watching movies that suck the life from your soul.”
I glance up at him and find him staring at his scars again. “Seth… I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I wish you would. I can handle the ugly stuff… I know it exists.”
“Knowing it exists and experiencing it are two different things… it changes you, you know?” When I don’t say anything, he sets his bowl down and sighs. “I’m still not ready to tell you where the scars came from, but if you want, I can tell you a little bit about myself.”
I nod, inching closer to him. “You know I want to hear it.”
He blows a stressed breath as he rests back on his hands. “I used to be this really funny person.”
“What do you mean used to ? You still are.”
“No, I’m different now. I mean, I’m still funny and everything, but half the time it feels like I’m running on autopilot. Jokes come naturally to me and it’s easier just to laugh stuff off.” He leans forward and rubs his arm. “I didn’t tell my mother I was gay. She just sort of found out after… something happened. She wasn’t happy at all. Told me I deserved what happened to me. She almost threw me out of the house, but after some pathetic begging on my part, she let me stay. Honestly, I wish I could’ve left sooner, but I didn’t have anywhere to go.” He shrugs. “And that’s pretty much the gist of it.”
My heart aches for him to the point that my chest actually hurts. “The thing that happened… does it have to do with how you got the scars on your arm?”
He nods, swallowing hard.
“Did you…” I shift my weight so that I’m facing him. “Did your mom hurt you?”
“No, it was nothing like that.”
I think about asking him if it was the guy he dated. When he briefly talked about him while we were at the Red Ink, I got the sense something bad happened between the two of them.
Before I can say anything, he sits up straight and says, “Can we drop it, please? I’d rather do anything else than talk about my depressing life.”
I don’t want to drop it at all. I want to find out who hurt him. Find out what’s causing all that pain in his eyes right now. But I don’t think pushing him is going to help.
“What movie do you want to watch?” I set my ice cream down. “Any one you want, I’ll watch.”
“I’m actually not really in the mood to watch a movie anymore,” he mumbles, staring at the window just over my shoulder.
Figuring he means he wants to go back to his dorm, I start to get to my feet, even though I’m not ready for him to go. “Okay, I’ll walk you.”
“Greyson, that’s not what I meant.” Without warning, his fingers wrap around my arm and he pulls me straight down to his mouth.
I worry the kiss might be a distraction from whatever he’s running from, but I get too lost in the feel of his lips to stop it. I kiss him back, our tongues tangling as he grips at my arms. My muscles flex under his hands and he constricts his grasp.
We kiss and kiss and kiss, just like I’ve imagined doing tons of times. Somehow, we end up lying on the floor, a mess of tangled arms and legs. I only move back to reach around and tug my shirt over my head. He follows my lead and peels his off, too.
My fingers travel over his lean muscles as he slips his hand across my abs. They tauten as his fingers start to drift downward to the button of my jeans. I realize where this is heading, but I’m not sure I want to go there yet. In the past, I rushed into the physical aspects of a relationship without really taking the time to get to know someone. I probably know Seth better than I know anyone else, but it still feels like
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