In Due Time
This story and everything found herein is the property of the author. Any similarities to real people, places, etc. are strictly coincidental.
This story is not to be posted anywhere else without permission from the author.
Warning: This work of fiction contains sexual contact between two males. If you are opposed to reading something like that, or if it is illegal for you to read this type of material in your area, please leave.
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Everything was so still. It felt like forever before either of us moved or even breathed. He just stood there, completely tense, and for the most horrifying second of my life, I worried that I might have been wrong. That Ryan might have been wrong. And I started spinning insane scenario's in my head, trying to figure out the real reason Shane had leaned in close that day.
Then he sighed. His body relaxed and he pressed his lips harder against mine and I forgot how to form rational thoughts. My mind went completely blank and it was better than even being in the pool. His lips were so...fucking soft and warm. Strong and pliant at the same time. He'd be pressing hard, almost aggressively against me, but the second I pushed back, he gave and let me take control.
Can I just say; fuck control.
I felt his tongue playing lightly over my lower lip and I gasped, parting my mouth to let him in and it was good and I wanted it. His tongue was liquid fire and I fucking craved it. And right then, I couldn't have cared less that we were standing outside, in the open where anyone could catch me in the act. I could hear my blood flowing in my ears and I was hot. Burning up and it only got worse when he actually touched me, his hand moving to my hip, fingers playing at the hem of my shirt.
And this--this I could feel. Something as small as Shane's fingers flitting against my hip made me feel like my spine was on fire while Tracy had full on made out with me, wet with hardly any clothes on and I couldn't feel anything.
I never wanted it to stop. And when Shane started to pull away from me, I pressed in closer. Harder. I wasn't ready just yet...
He didn't complain, thrusting his tongue deeper into my mouth and everything was spinning so fast and slow and I was fucking dizzy. Drunk. I felt warm all over. His chest was hard...strong against mine and he still wasn't close enough. I clenched my fists in the back of his shirt pulling him in tighter. My knuckles scraped against side of his house and it didn't matter. I didn't care if it cut. I could hardly feel it.
I could feel Shane's tongue though. And his teeth when he pulled back a fraction to nibble at my lower lip and I couldn't help wondering where the hell he'd learned that. His teeth were sharp and it stung just a bit but in a good way. The way that sent me reeling with the sensation and I wondered exactly how much experience he had. For a second I was terrified that I wasn't doing it right. That he might think I was pathetic in comparison to all the other people he'd been kissing. You know the ones I made up in my little fit of insecurity.
But instead of backing off at the thought, I tried harder. I pressed him harder against the wall, almost violently and I swear to fucking God, he groaned. It shocked the hell out of me and my heart pounded so hard against my chest I'd have sworn he could feel it. I felt that warm liquid feeling in my stomach and I could feel pressure. The good kind of pressure that I'd only ever felt on my own in my room. And yeah, we were kissing. Full on making out, even. But I really didn't want him to feel that.
I hesitated, pausing to calm myself down and possibly move the lower part of my body a couple inches back, but Shane had other ideas and after one last kiss, soft and gentle and nothing like what we'd just been up to, he slid his hands up my chest and pressed, urging me back, however gently.
He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. And I was glad. I didn't want to talk. Kissing was better. I wanted to do more of that. Preferably somewhere else. Like his room because now that there was some space between us, I could think about how stupid it was to be making out with a boy so out in the open.
I wanted to run again. Or rather, I felt like I should want to run again. But I didn't. I didn't want to be alone. While I was there with Shane, at his house where nobody knew me, maybe it would be okay to not feel like a disgusting freak. Shane didn't think it was weird. Obviously. Shane knew and he didn't care. Obviously. I couldn't think straight and my head was still a little fogged and...I kind of wanted to kiss him again. Kind of, a lot.
"Uhm," Shane whispered after clearing his throat again. "That was...uhm. Well." He sounded a lot like me. I could barely hear him though. I couldn't stop staring at his lips. It was insane and I was insane, but they were so fucking red. And swollen.
Because of me. And fuck me; I was proud of it, in a way. It was almost exciting.
I really should have run home and destroyed more of the house. Running away to Mexico didn't seem like a horrible idea either and it was definitely at the top of my list of things to do...after I kissed him some more. Just a little more.
"That was the last thing I expected," Shane finally said, staring at me a little awestruck. "Why--I mean--I thought...look," he sighed, looking frustrated, but for the first time since I'd met him, he didn't look like he was frustrated with me. More like he was frustrated with himself.
"Do you wanna go inside?" I asked because I lost my brain somewhere between the sidewalk in front of his house and the narrow path on the side of it. I wasn't really all that interested in finding it.
"Jake--," Shane started, but I interrupted him.
"I want to," I said and it couldn't have shocked Shane more than it did me. Honesty? That was new.
Shane frowned at me, narrowing his eyes and I wondered whether we'd be fighting again soon. I found I didn't mind. Our last two fights had both ended just about the same way and considering I really wanted his lips against mine right then, I found I almost hoped we'd be fighting again if it meant we'd end up doing the kissing thing again.
"Look, Jake," Shane sighed. "Maybe you should--,"
"What," I snapped, stepping back. "Go home? If I do that, I'm probably not going to talk to you again for awhile." Huh. More honesty. It was starting to scare me.
"Yes, you will," Shane retorted, rolling his eyes.
"No, I won't," I said, shaking my head. I'd want to talk to him, but I wouldn't do it. Not after I got home and had time to think about everything. After the smell of his cologne or whatever it was, on my skin faded and I actually could think. I didn't want that because...right then, everything was good. I could still feel Shane's fingers on my hip and neck and in my hair. I could still feel the heat of his lips and it was good. Everything was good and I felt like the tension that I'd been carrying around over the last month was completely gone. I wanted that feeling to last. I wanted to keep it for as long as possible and I knew it would be gone before long if I went home. The panic would set in eventually.
I wanted to feel...good for just a little while longer. I wanted him to make me feel like I was spinning and falling at the same time. While on fire. Just a little while longer before I had to go back to being...whatever the hell I was. `Normal'? Whatever the fuck.
"Jake," Shane sighed again. He reached out toward me, but dropped his hand at the last second and it was stupid. I didn't get it. I was there and so obviously not opposed to having him touch me. Why'd he have to make it difficult?
"Jake," he repeated in that same careful tone of voice and I glared at him. He ignored me and went on. "I thought you weren't..."
"Bullshit," I said simply and he actually smiled at me. The honesty? No idea where it was coming from but it felt...it felt so fucking good. Shane knew. And I knew and I wasn't pretending anymore. Shane knew anyway and denying it would only make me look even more pathetic. I could just be...real. Without all the bullshit and the pretending. And maybe it was okay for just one night.
Just one night. I wanted to drag it out for as long as I possibly could. I didn't want to do any more than we were already doing, but I definitely wanted more of the kissing. And the touching. Just for the night.
"You should go," Shane said after a moment. I really wanted to punch him or something.
"Why?" I asked and then frowned at how pathetic I sounded, but I couldn't stop talking. "You don't want me to--,"
Shane snorted, rolling his eyes and he shoved me. "Uhm. Yeah. Obviously. But no."
Yeah. That made all the sense in the world, right?
"What?" I said, a little frustrated.
Shane laughed and this time when he reached out to touch me, he didn't pull away at the last minute.
"I think you need time to, like...think or something," he said, shrugging but he was smiling at me.
I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I snapped and I shrugged his hand off my shoulder. "I'll go home and think but you get to explain my trip to Mexico to my parents."
Shane raised an eyebrow at me, smirking, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Mexico?" he said, bemused.
I nodded. "Yup," I said, looking up at the sky. "My mom's gonna be pissed. So, you get to deal with the aneurism. And my dad is gonna shit himself. You get to clean that up too."
Shane laughed, stepping closer to me. "My punishment for ruining your room...and your date?"
And that wasn't something I wanted to think about. I didn't answer him and I lost the smile I'd been sporting as some of the euphoria I'd been somewhat lost in, faded.
"Jake," Shane sighed again and I swore if he said my name like that one more time I was going to do to him what I did to my poor TV. "Are you sure you're okay?"
I sighed, rolling my eyes. If he was going to make me talk about it, then leaving would probably be the best option because I was sure it wouldn't end well.
"Yeah," I said crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm good, bro. I was just kidding about Mexico."
He laughed again. "Yeah," he whispered. "I figured."
"I'm gonna go," I said, stepping backward. "See you."
"Jake," Shane said again, but this time he didn't say it like he was talking to a traumatized child.
"Yeah," I said, still walking away from him.
"Do you want to come in?"
It's stupid but I didn't accept the invitation right away. Not because I needed to think about it. I was doing everything I could to keep my mind as blank as possible. Or...to think about anything thing else. But I wasn't sure if he was serious. I just...I felt like I pressured him into asking me. Made him feel bad or something and I almost declined.
Until I looked at his face. He had this look in his eyes that was somewhere between cautious and excited and I knew I wasn't going to say no.
Just one night.
"Whatever," I shrugged, trying not to be completely pathetic. "If it's cool."
He grinned at me, almost mischievously. "It is, if you're cool," he shot back.
I rolled my eyes. "Shut up," I said and he laughed at me.
"Come on," he said, stepping forward and grabbing my arm, dragging me with him. "We'll watch a movie or something in my room."
I grinned and followed him inside, confident that I wouldn't see a minute of whatever movie he decided to put on.
Once, when I was in elementary, I got invited to a party at DZ, the Discovery Zone, but my parents wouldn't let me go. I'd never been and I threw a fit when my mother told me no. She swore I'd have just as much fun staying home with Ryan and Chloe. And I probably would have if I could have stopped thinking about what I was missing out on for more than two seconds. Instead, I pouted the entire time and Chloe ended up leaving early. Ryan left too, but he came back, with the pamphlet on menstrual cycles that he stole from Chloe. I spent the next couple of weeks thinking I was going to have mood swings and bleed in questionable places once a month for the rest of my life. My father finally set me straight when he found me examining myself in the bathroom one day, in a complete panic.
Sitting up in Shane's room, I kind of felt exactly the same way that I'd felt that day my mother made me stay home while the rest of my class was having a blast at Carter's party.
I would have sworn he wasn't serious when he said we'd watch a movie. I was wrong. And what's worse, Shane was totally laughing at me.
"It's a good movie, he said around a spoonful of the peanut butter he was eating right out of the jar.
"I bet," I said, rolling my eyes. The thing is, I didn't doubt it was a good movie. There were just other things I'd really have rather been doing at the moment. Shane knew that, and he was laughing at me. Asshole.
I guess I could have left. But...it's weird and it doesn't make any sense...I felt okay. As long as I was there, away from my life, where I didn't have to worry about anyone finding out about me because the only person around already knew and was obviously okay with it.
I just wished he'd stop fucking snickering. I already knew I was pathetic. He was making it worse. I glared at him. "Shut up."
He just kept laughing. "Peanut butter?" he offered, holding out his spoon.
I probably could have kissed the fucking smile right off his face. I was almost positive he wouldn't stop me. But I couldn't do it. Yeah, I was the one that started it the first time around, but I was angry then and I wasn't thinking. Besides, I didn't want to do it if he didn't. Plus, he had peanut butter in his mouth and I couldn't think of a good way to go about it without ending up covered in the stuff and humiliated.
So I just sat there. And I pouted. The same way I did when my mother refused to let me got to the party in third grade.
Maybe Pride was a great movie. I'd never know it.
I tried watching it. I even stared at the screen for a solid ten minutes without looking over at Shane sitting next to me on his bed. But I didn't see any of it. I mean, I was watching the screen, but I was listening to him. Waiting to see if he was going to do something. I paid attention to everything, the smallest of movements, sure that he was going to reach for me any second.
He didn't. The credits rolled and the movie was over and the jar of peanut butter in Shane's hand had gotten more attention than I had.
"What's going on?" I asked when Shane got up to take the movie out of the DVD player. Seriously, I knew he liked me. Why else would he put up with my shit? And I was pretty sure he was into making out with me. I mean, he seemed like he was. And he started the whole thing. It was his fault I'd been being such a spazz.
"Don't know what you're talking about," he said, without looking at me. Bullshit. I was a pro when it came to bullshit and it was easy to spot.
"Yes, you do," I said and paused before adding, "Asshole," for good measure.
He just shrugged. "We're in my room," he pointed out, looking up at me.
"Yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. "I kinda knew that."
"No one's going to walk in," he said, moving to sit on the bed, voice getting lower, quieter, with every word.
"So?" I pressed, completely confused as to why that would be a bad thing. I was pretty sure I'd die if anyone did walk in.
"So," he said, frustrated. "No one's going to...interrupt us. Or...stop...it."
That was the fucking point. God, I really wished he'd start making sense sometime soon. I was already confused enough on my own. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to touch him and be close...but I didn't. I wanted...I didn't know what the fuck I wanted. I just knew that kissing him felt good. And maybe I couldn't have that in real life. Maybe in my real life, I couldn't want that, but his room...his house...wasn't a part of my real life. I could think about Ry and Chloe and my parents in the morning. Just...just one night of not thinking. That's what I wanted.
Shane sighed, flopping back onto his bed. He was quiet and it was awhile before there was any sound in the room aside from the rhythmic sound of breathing. And when he did decide to say something, he shot up, looking determinedly into my eyes before throwing a handful of words at me that didn't make any sense whatsoever.
"There are boundaries, right?" he said, talking the way my father did when he was trying to explain where babies came from. "And...I don't know what they are...and I don't think you know what they are...and if we keep going--alone, in my room, when no one's going to interrupt and no one is going to stop it--we'll probably find out what the boundaries were after I do something stupid and you run away and stop speaking to me again and you don't want to talk about anything so..."
"Shut up," I snapped closing my eyes and trying to focus enough to be able to put the words he'd just spat at me into actual sentences that I understood. Shane listened, at least, and shut his mouth, waiting for me to respond.
"Boundaries?" I started carefully after a minute and he nodded. "It doesn't' matter," I said.
"Uhm...yeah, actually, it does because..."
"I'm gonna run away, anyways," I went on before he could start again and he frowned. "But...I'll try not to stop talking to you."
He thought about that, at least, I assumed that's what he was doing when he stared at the ceiling silently for a couple minutes. And I waited. I didn't ramble about senseless things to drown out the silence and I didn't reach for a remote to turn on the TV for the white noise. I just waited.
But he never said anything.
He did finally reach for me, though. He pulled me in, slowly, looking into my eyes the whole time and it didn't bother me at all, for once.
"This," I said, quietly as he pulled me closer. "I'm okay with, you know...this."
"Yeah," he said, sort of dazedly, breaking our eye contact to stare at my lips.
I could feel his lips before they ever touched mine and I finally closed my eyes and lost track of every-fucking-thing as he kissed me. Softly, at first, but it didn't take long to build and he lost whatever hesitation he'd had and touched me, running his hands up and down my back, then back up to squeeze my neck, and down the front over my chest. And that was good. `In bounds', apparently because it didn't bother me at all. It was good and I wasn't thinking and the world wasn't ending. Everything was good and I don't think I'd ever felt anything like it. I'd never felt anything as fucking good. Heat, scalding heat, and I was turned on the whole time by a boy and it was okay.
Right then, everything was okay.
I was actually happy when I left Shane's house. I wasn't freaking out and overanalyzing and it actually surprised me. My brain was blissfully mush and I had a floaty sort of feeling. It was disgustingly pathetic but I couldn't stop smiling. I couldn't even bring myself to worry too much about my family or my friends. They'd never find out anyway. Nobody would. I couldn't have made myself feel guilty if I tried. I was just...so tired of it. Of pretending and being worried all the time... and trying so fucking hard to be...normal.
I wasn't even sure what that word meant anymore. Because Shane...kissing Shane and having him touch me or touching him...felt way more normal than kissing Tracy did. And no, I didn't want to lose my friends. Or my family. They still meant more to me than Shane did; I'd known them all my life. But...I wasn't hurting them. They didn't know. No harm, no foul, right? They never had to know. I could keep my family and maybe I could keep Shane too and no one would ever have to run away to Mexico.
Or maybe, I was just high. I felt that way, at least. I was sure it would pass, but I sure as hell wasn't going to rush it.
My parents were up when I got home, though, and while I still couldn't stop feeling pathetically giddy, it was sort of mixed in with the dread I felt at the lecture I was about to get. I'd completely forgotten about the way I'd run off.
"I'm sorry," I said, the second I walked in. My father almost dropped his cup of coffee and mom didn't even yell at him for the stain on the carpet.
"What," my mother started slowly, while my father just stared at me, "the hell were you thinking?"
"Do you have any idea what you put me through," she went on, her face turning red. "I've been worried sick! It's been hours, Jacob, you could have picked up a phone at let us know you were okay! I was seconds away from calling the cops."
It was such a change from when she was holding me in my room. I would have expected my father to be the one yelling at me, but he wasn't saying a word. He just stood there, staring at me, while my mother lectured to her hearts content, making sure I knew just how worried she was about me. You'd think she'd be hugging me, telling me how glad she was that I was home safe. She wasn't. She was all about the yelling and making me feel like shit.
It went on so long that I couldn't handle standing anymore. I leaned against the wall by the front door, barely even hearing what she was saying anymore. And when it didn't look like she was going to stop any time soon, I slid down to sit on the floor. I was tired and I wanted to go to my room and replay my night. The good parts anyway. I wanted to replay them until I got that `high' feeling back and I could feel--good again but mom was taking for fucking ever.
I was extremely grateful when the front door opened to reveal my two best friends. Saved.
Except...not really. They didn't even see me.
"Mrs. Taylor," Ry said, sounding out of breath. "We found him."
"Did you?" my mother said smartly, raising her eyebrows.
"Yeah," Chloe agreed, nodding. "We found him up on the trail next to Riley Middle," she added, completely oblivious to my presence.
"He doesn't want to come home yet," Ry went on before my parents could say anything and I loved my friends I really did, but God, we were all going to catch hell for this. I could have interrupted. It would get Chloe and Ry off the hook...but my mother would have killed me. I looked around for something to throw...something small enough not to attract too much attention from my mother, but big enough to get Ry or Chloe to look at me. I cursed the fact that my mother was a neat freak.
"Oh," my mother said crossing her arms. My father looked like he was about to laugh. "And did my son tell you why he ran off in the first place?"
"He's just stressed," Chloe said, chewing on her lip.
"About what exactly?" my mother countered and she was so obviously trying her damnedest not to look at me, it wasn't funny.
"School," Chloe responded at the same time that Ry said, "Girls." And then my father did laugh.
"School and girls," my mother said, ignoring my father completely. "Hmm. Is that true, Jacob?"
I let go of the shoelace I was currently trying to unlace to throw. "Sure, why not. It might have something to do with my mother too," I said, rolling my eyes. My mother actually looked hurt. Like my two little sentences could hold a candle to the chewing out she'd just done.
"Jake," Ry said, feigning shock. "You came home?"
Yeah Ry, and I just happened to beat you over here, you idiot. I didn't say it, but I was positive he knew I was thinking it. Besides, it was kind of cool of him and Chlo. It's the thought that counts or whatever.
"Yeah," I said instead, playing along with the lie that was never going to work. Shame. I might not have had to deal with my mother's bullshit if I'd only stayed with Shane for a couple more minutes. The lie might have worked brilliantly if I wasn't actually there when they told it.
As it was, my mother was glaring at us with enough anger in her eyes to make me want to shit myself.
"I've got to go," Chloe said, folding, and she took off out of the house.
Ry sighed, watching as she closed the door behind her. "I'd go too, if I thought she was actually going to get away with that," he said.
He moved over to slide down the wall and sit next to me, resignedly. "Sorry, JM," he told my mother using the nickname he'd given her when we were in fourth grade and he'd gotten tired of calling her `Jake's mom'. "If it helps my case, I was gonna keep looking for him after we got him out of trouble. And Chloe agreed `cause she thought it'd stop you worrying."
"And what, pray tell, would you have done if you hadn't been able to find him?" she asked, coldly. Good God, my mother could be scary.
Ry swallowed. "I hear Mexico's nice this time of year," he replied, unsteadily which kind of killed the sarcasm I know he was going for-- and I know it wasn't a good time to be laughing but I really couldn't help it, thinking about the conversation I'd had with Shane earlier. Just fucking thinking of him made it hard to breathe again. Like I was so full of something that I didn't have any room left for air. It was good and it made me feel dizzy.
My mother didn't think it was funny, though. She looked like her head was going to explode from all the blood that'd traveled there.
"Uhm," my father finally spoke up, moving to put his hand on her arm. "Go to your room. And clean it," he said sternly. I had thought that he might be a little more lenient but his tone of voice made me think otherwise.
"Okay," I said, standing. I grabbed Ry's arm to pull him up when it didn't look like he'd be following me.
The last thing I would have expected when Ry and I got to my room was anger from him. But he was pissed. And he punched me. Not in the playful way either.
"What the fuck is your problem, dude?" he said, shoving me against the wall. "You know you made Chloe cry? She flipped when she saw your room. Asshole. Do you have to be such a fucking drama queen?"
It was turning into the longest night of my life. Ry was not helping and I was all too happy to shove him right back. "Me? A drama queen? You run off at least twice a week without telling your father where you're going."
"Yeah," Ry spat. "But he knows where I go. I come here, fucker. Where the hell did you go for three goddamn hours?"
"None of your fucking business," I shot back, glaring at him. He glared right back. "Jesus, Ry," I said. "I needed to get away. Give it a rest, you sound like my mother."
Ry sighed, shoving me one more time before turning to throw himself on my bed. "Sorry," he said. "But it's fucked, dude. I mean, I get it; I hate my father. I'd go crazy if I couldn't get away, but why didn't you just come to my house? I wouldn't have had to waste a full tank of gas looking for your ass. And you made Chloe cry. It was fucking weird."
"I'm sorry, okay?" I said, frustrated. "I've just...got some stuff..."
"Yeah," Ry nodded, rolling his eyes. "The stuff you're not talking about. Chloe told me."
"Nothing to tell," I retorted.
He snorted, bitterly. "That's why you decided to murder your television? Right."
"It wasn't exactly a flat screen," I said flatly, looking at the piece of shit broken television that was probably better off with a cracked screen.
Ry grinned, albeit reluctantly. "Yeah," he said, rolling his eyes. "It's really not. Seriously, though, bro, you could have just come to my house like you usually do. You could have blown off some steam there. Or we could have taken off."
"Right," I snorted, derisively. "You're already grounded."
"You're point?" Ry laughed. "You're always getting into trouble for me. It would have been an exciting change."
I shrugged, sighing. "I wasn't really thinking when I left. I just took off," I elbowed him. "Next time, we'll take off. Mexico sounded good."
"Yeah," Ry laughed, shaking his head. "Next time." He sat up. "I'm gonna jet. I've got another five hours of slavery tomorrow."
"Cool," I nodded and I was... relieved. I'd wanted nothing more than to be alone since I'd left Shane's...God, I'd almost forgotten about him. Almost.
"What are you smiling about," Ry asked, as he stepped away from my bed.
"Nothing," I replied immediately. "I wasn't smiling."
"Someone got lucky," Ry teased, and I was fucking horrified until he added, "Is Tracy really as high maintenance as everyone says."
Oh. Tracy. "No..." I replied slowly. "She was cool." Yes, I felt the guilt. I was just trying really hard not to.
"I bet," Ry said with a shit eating grin. "Oh, I almost forgot," he added suddenly, digging into the pocket of his oversized hoodie. He pulled out a crumpled ball of brown paper. "Shane left this for you right after you left for you date."
That got my attention and I snatched the bag away from Ry before he finished his sentence. Obviously, I'm the subtlest person in the world.
"What is it?" I asked, hoping like hell Ryan wouldn't be able to answer the question. It was just...a brown piece of paper, but you would have sworn it held every last one of my secrets, the way I was behaving.
Ry shrugged, though. "I think it's grease," he said, wrinkling his nose. "There's a stain on my shirt from it. What's with that? Is it like...a better smelling version of flaming shit? Is Shane pissed at you?"
I shrugged. "Maybe," I lied. I mean, he might have been pissed at me earlier, but I was positive he wasn't anymore. Not if the making out was anything to go by.
"Whatever," Ry said, rolling his eyes. "The kid's weird." He laid a hand on my shoulder squeezing a bit before moving toward the door. I wanted him to get the fuck out already. I really wanted to know what was on the piece of paper.
I barely even heard Ry's muttered `Later' when he finally stepped out of the room, but the minute he shut the door behind him I started unfolding--or un-crumpling.
Turns out, the brown piece of paper was actually a brown paper bag. And when I finally got it open, I found Ry hadn't been that far off when he suggested it might just be grease. He was actually pretty close.
Inside the bag, wrapped in a sandwich bag was a cold quesadilla that looked like it'd been drenched in butter and I laughed. It felt weird laughing alone and I wasn't sure I'd ever done it before unless I was watching TV or something, but I couldn't help it.
And I couldn't stop. That seemed to be the norm when it came to Shane. I just...could never stop. He'd made it impossible to stop.
I didn't eat it. Not just because I though I might die a very quick death of cholesterol overdose either. It just didn't feel like the right thing to do. It looked like something that would be better off in the trash, or better yet, a toxic waste bin, but that didn't feel like the right thing either. So, I put it back in the bag and as I did, I found something else in there.
A note. But it didn't hold all of my secrets and I was pretty sure that Ry wouldn't have understood if he had read it anyway. Hell, I didn't even understand it and I definitely had no idea why I couldn't get rid of my smile after reading it.
It was just one sentence. One silly, ridiculous sentence made all the more ridiculous by the fact that it made me grin like a moron and made all the feelings I'd been experiencing before I'd set foot in my house all come rushing back.
Can you believe it's not butter?
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