Continuing to work on my project, I keep my eyes fixed on the screen, when I tell him, “Ryan isn’t much of a talker, but I could tell that Gavin was starting to piss him off the other week.”
“Huh.”
“Why?”
“No reason. Just wondering,” he says.
I chuckle at him, and tease, “You’re nosey.”
“I’m not nosey.”
“It kills you that you can’t know everything that goes on outside of your presence.”
He starts laughing because he knows it’s true. We both do. Mark loves gossip, and is always filling me in on crap I couldn’t care less about, but I don’t ever say anything. It’s just one of his quirks that I get a kick out of.
“Dude, I just want to know what the hell happened. Gavin said they used to be really close.”
“Okay, fine. All I know is that Gavin had said that Ryan has started acting weird in the past few weeks. He told me that Ryan used to spend his time doing not much more than hooking up with chicks, and then suddenly he stopped. That’s all I know. Is that enough gossip to satisfy you?”
“Did you ask anything?”
“What? No, man. I don’t really care.”
“Hmm.”
I just laugh at him as I continue to work. When the pizza comes, I take a break and eat before getting back to my project. Rolling out my blueprints, he helps me mark them up. I hear my phone ring from the kitchen, and when I walk over and pick it up, my stomach clenches with anxiety.
Looking up at Mark, I say, “It’s my mom,” before I answer it and walk to my bedroom.
“Mom, hi.”
“Jason,” she sighs out, and I can tell that she’s crying. I walk around my bed and sit on the edge.
“Is everything all right?” I ask her. Despite everything, I still love my parents. Flaws and all. They are the only family I have.
“I haven’t been okay since you left. I’ve been praying for you every day. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” I grasp on to the hope that she’s had a change of heart about me.
I hear her cries thicken as she continues to talk. “I’m worried about you, dear.”
“Mom, don’t cry. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me,” I try to assure her.
“But I am. I want you to come home.”
“I can’t come home right now. I’m in the middle of the quarter.”
“No, I think you should move back here.”
Lowering my elbows to my knees, I ask, “What are you talking about?” as hope slowly starts to fade.
“Ever since you left, you’ve been a completely different person. I talked to Pastor Richardson, and he agreed to see you for counseling to try and help you work through whatever is going on.”
“Mom,” I breathe out, and I hear the desperation in her voice when she pleads, “Please, Jason. You’re the only child I have left.”
She’s crying, and I take a moment before I speak as disappointment overtakes my wasted optimism. “There isn’t anything to fix. And this didn’t happen when I moved away, Mom. I’ve been this way my whole life.”
“I know that’s not true. God didn’t make you this way. You can’t live like this; it’s wrong.”
Hearing her voice and hearing her pain, I feel so guilty. I listen to her cry when she says, “This is a choice, Jason, and you’re choosing wrong.”
I feel the bed dip down behind me, and Mark rests his forehead against my back as I defend, “There’s no choice to make. It is what it is, Mom.”
“At least come home for a few days so we can talk about this.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please let me try and help you. Please.”
Holding my head in my hand, I swallow hard against the disappointment and hurt building up inside of me. “I don’t need help. I need you to love me enough to accept me.” I don’t wait for her to say anything before I hang up and toss the phone on the bed. Cradling my head in my hands, Mark plants a kiss on my back through my shirt.
He doesn’t say anything, and I take my time before speaking. “She’s so upset.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She’s so upset, and it’s all my fault.” I shift to the side and lie back on the bed, draping my arm across my forehead.
Lying down next to me, Mark props himself on his side and says, “You’re not the cause of her pain.”
When I don’t say anything, he grabs my arm and moves it away from my face. “Look at me,” he says and then repeats, “You aren’t the cause of her pain.”
“I am,” I say when I look up at him. “She wouldn’t feel this way if it weren’t for me. Because of me, there’s this rip in my family.”
“You’re not responsible for that though. They are. They’re the ones that pushed you out.”
“Because of me.”
As he rakes his hand through my hair, he says, “Because of them, Jase. It isn’t you. You’re not doing anything wrong.”
“What if I am? I mean . . . maybe that’s why I can’t get past this shit.”
“What shit?”
I shift over so that I can lie on my side and face him. “For the most part, I’m fine. With you, I’m fine, but I can’t help the times when it feels wrong to be myself.”
“There is nothing about you, that I can see, that’s wrong,” he says softly.
“But that’s you. She thinks I’m a sin. That I’m going to hell.” I pause before asking, “Am I?”
He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. “I don’t believe that.” When he pulls back, I look into his eyes when he tells me, “It doesn’t make sense to me if that were true; why God would do this and then force us to deny it. That’s fucked up. You know this isn’t a choice. So how can it be a sin if God created us this way?”
His words hit where they always do, straight through my heart. I’ve always had these thoughts, but have never said them to anyone. Getting this out, and having Mark be the one to do this with, makes me trust him. How can this be wrong? To love someone. How can love be a sin? Whether it’s right or wrong, all I know is, Mark is the one person I need.
“Don’t walk away from me if I push you. I know how I get sometimes, but I’m trying to get past it,” I confess.
Running his hand down my cheek he says, “I’m not walking away, and I’m not gonna let you screw this up.”
I know what I feel for Mark. So I don’t even give it a second thought when I finally tell him what I’ve already been feeling.
“I’m falling in love with you.”
That sexy smile I love so much creeps across his face and then he tells me, “Good, ‘cause I’ve been in love with you for a while. I just didn’t want to say anything until you were ready.”
I don’t deserve to have this man who puts my feelings above his own, but I won’t deny him. Wanting to put an end to this war I’ve been battling inside of myself, I surrender my heart and trade it for his.
I press my lips against his and move slowly as I graze my teeth along his bottom lip. Mark pulls me flush against him, and I wrap my arms around him, feeling the muscles flex in his back as he moves against me. I want him so bad, and I have to force myself not to rip his shorts off and bury myself inside him.
I reach my arm back and tug my shirt off over my head. Rolling on top of him, I run my mouth down his neck, nipping along the way to his chest. His skin is hot on my lips, and when I hit the waistband of his shorts, I shift them down and peel them off. But before I can do anything, Mark has me flipped on my back.
He crushes his mouth with mine and possesses me with his tongue. My emotions are running on high, and I’ve never wanted anyone like I want him. All of him. Grinding himself against me, I grow harder for him. He tugs my shorts off and fists me in his hand, stroking me slowly. Closing my eyes, I roll my head back into the pillow and feel the intense pleasure when Mark takes me in his hot mouth.
“Jesus,” I nearly growl out when he brushes his
tongue over me.
Mark slows his movements and switches our pace. He begins to trail kisses up my abs and then straddles my hips, settling himself on top of me. I cup my hands on his face and bring him down to me. His head rests against mine, and I feel the need to assure him of my feelings. “I really do love you.”
“I know you do,” he whispers.
“You’re the only one.” And he is.
Nodding his head, he kisses me but doesn’t move his lips. We’re just still for a while. It’s only when I reach over to the nightstand and open the drawer that he finally drags his lips from mine. When Mark makes sure we’re ready and protected, he reaches behind and guides me inside of him.
With his legs spread across my lap, he takes his time taking me in before he starts to move, and when he does, it feels so fuckin’ good. I’ve never had emotions tied to sex, and the closeness I feel with Mark right now is more than what I thought could be possible.
Running my hands up his thighs, he rolls his hips over me. I slide one of my hands behind his neck and bring him down to me, needing to be closer to him. He kisses me, and I can’t control myself when I groan into his mouth. We continue to take our time with our kisses as I begin to stroke him. He wraps his hand around my hand, and we work together as we both start to increase our movements.
When Mark whispers in my ear, “God, I love you,” I find it hard to control myself, and I thrust myself deep inside of him. His hand tightens around mine, and I quicken my pace slightly as I pump the length of him. Everything about this feels so good, and I’m on the verge of losing it.
Dropping his forehead to mine, Mark grinds himself down on me as I feel the heat of him when he starts to come in my hand. His body jerks, and seeing him like this, on top of me, throws me over. I bury myself deep inside of him as my body explodes beneath his. I grip his hips and dig my fingers into his skin as I thrust up into him a couple more times.
He looks down at me, grinning, with a sheen of sweat covering his neck. “Come here,” I breathe. And when he leans back down to me, I kiss him, licking him deep and taking all that he’s willing to give. He shifts off of me and reaches over to grab my shirt. After he cleans us up, he tosses the shirt to the floor, and I draw him in close to me.
Lying face to face, he says, “Thanks.”
I run my fingers along his face and softly ask, “For what?”
“Giving me something new.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“That’s not normally my thing, but I know it isn’t yours either,” he admits, and suddenly I feel like a dick.
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“No, I mean, I’ve bottomed before, but it’s never been like that.” He kisses me before continuing. “I’ve never felt for anyone the way I do you, so I don’t mind.”
“You should’ve said something.”
“I love you, so it doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to know.”
We shift and get comfortable in each other’s arms. We don’t talk. We don’t need to. He knows where my heart is at as we simply lie together in the aftermath of making love and wrap ourselves up in each other.
The past couple weeks have been busy with school. My professors didn’t like my initial design, so I have been busting my ass trying to come up with a new concept. I’ve fallen even further behind, and Mark has been helping me with the tedious renderings and mark-ups to help me catch up.
My mom called again last week in another attempt to get me to come back home. Hearing the pain in her voice is hard on me. I hate it. I love her so much, but her unwillingness to accept me tears me apart. Mark is right though; I’m not the cause of her sadness.
A text from Mark brings me out of my thoughts.
On my way. Got hung up with practice.
It’s cool. I’ll go ahead and get your drink.
I grab Mark a coffee and wait for him to meet me. He’s been having more band rehearsals, because they’ve been busy writing some new material since they play every week at Ryan’s bar.
When he finally walks into the coffee shop, he looks pissed. He spots me and makes his way back to where I am. Sitting down, he grabs his coffee and takes a sip.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Setting his cup down, he lets out a deep breath. “Aiden is just pissing me off. He keeps fuckin’ around with my music and changing it up. I don’t have time to be learning all these new songs to have him go right back and change them.”
“What does everyone else say?”
“Everyone is pissed at this point, so today was nothing but a bitch session, wasting my time.” Leaning back in his chair, he continues, “He wants to play some of the new stuff tomorrow night, but it isn’t ready.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, I know. Anyway, enough of my bitching. Did you show Gibson your new design?”
“Uh huh. He really liked it, so hopefully I won’t have to go back and change anything, and I can start to catch up,” I say. I have been so stressed out lately with this project.
“That’s good. Well, I’m about to submit my stuff for presentation, so when I do, I’ll have some more free time if you need any help.”
His eyes shift over my shoulder as I say, “Thanks.”
When Mark gives a slight nod, I turn to see who he’s looking at. Shit! When I see Preston walking over, I turn to stone as panic courses through me. How the hell does Mark know him?
“Hey, what’s going on?” he says as Mark stands to give him a friendly clap on the shoulder before sitting back down.
“Not much. Was actually just with Aiden.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat and then Mark looks at me, saying, “Jase, this is Preston. He’s a friend of Aiden’s.”
“I already know Jase,” Preston butts in with a snide smirk on his face, and I quickly stammer and tell Mark, “Yeah, we’ve run into each other a few times.”
Suddenly, what I felt was nothing more than an irrelevant hookup, just like all the others, seems more like a lie of omission from Mark, and I’m caught in the confines of remorse and anxiety. Distraction saves me when I hear my phone ring. When I take it out of my pocket, I look to Mark and say, “It’s Candace.”
As soon as I answer it, I can hear her crying. And the bullshit happening in front of me vanishes in an instant.
“Sweetie, are you okay?”
She can hardly get her words out through her breaths. “No. I need you. Please.”
“What happened?” I ask and immediately stand up, shrugging on my jacket, needing to get to her. Mark stands up and starts following me out the door as I walk away from one of the many regrets of my past.
“I can’t breathe.” Her voice is strained as she speaks through heavy gasps.
“I’m on my way, just try to relax,” I tell her.
She hangs up the phone, and I rush to my car.
“What’s going on?” Mark asks.
“I have no clue, but she’s crying and freaking out. I gotta go. Sorry. I’ll call you, okay?” I say as I hop into my car.
“Yeah, go. Let me know what’s going on.”
I don’t even respond when I peel out of my parking spot and start speeding to her house. Everything from that exchange back there seems so trivial compared to what Candace is going through, and right now, she needs me. My heart beats hard as I try to get to her. Running through stop signs and honking at the slow-ass people driving on the road, I finally rip into her driveway. Fiddling with my keys, I find the one for her door. When I walk in, I can hear her faint cries. Going into her room, I open her closet door and see her lying on the floor covered in vomit.
“Shit. What happened?” I say as I rush to her and scoop her up in my arms.
She clings to me as I carry her into her bathroom and start stripping off her soiled clothes. She’s vacant as she sits on the edge of the tub, crying and shaking, and my heart breaks for her. Never have I seen a person so broken, but to have Candace be this person debilitates me in a way I wish I??
?d never have to feel.
I toss her shorts and shirt into the tub and kneel down between her legs. Holding onto her knees, I whisper, “What happened, sweetie?”
She just shakes her head and covers her face with her hands as she cries. I wrap her up in my arms and hold her. I hold her for what feels like a long time until she softens in my arms. When I look at her, she’s exhausted. I don’t say anything. I know she hates talking when she’s this upset. I walk over to the shower and turn the water on. I return to her and pull her up.
“You need me to help you clean up?” I ask.
She shakes her head and takes off her underwear before stepping into the water. I give her space and leave her alone while I go to the laundry room and grab some towels to clean her closet floor. I don’t know what the hell happened, but I’m pretty sure she had another one of her nightmares. This is the stuff that makes me feel so guilty for not being around more.
After cleaning everything up, I go back into her bathroom to grab her clothes, and I see her arms braced on the tile wall as she stands under the showerhead. Her head is hanging down, and I just want to grab her and take it all away, but I can’t. I can’t do anything to make this stop hurting her. I walk back to the laundry room and toss everything in the washer and start it.
When I return to her room, the water is still running, so I call Mark.
“Hey, babe. How is she?” he asks.
“Not good. I hate this,” I say, defeated. Like somehow I’ve let her down.
“What happened?”
Letting out a sigh, I tell him, “When I got here she was in her closet crying. She had thrown up and was lying in it.”
“Oh my God.” He’s worried; I can hear it in his voice.
“She hasn’t said anything yet. She’s in the shower now, but I know she had another nightmare. She doesn’t take her sleeping pill when she takes naps in the middle of the day.”
“You need me to come over there?” he asks, and I love that he does.
“No, it’s fine. I’m gonna stay here for a while though.” There is no way I can leave her like this. I don’t want to.