Page 96 of Dear Mr. Brody
He raked his fingers through my hair, his eyes falling to my mouth. “Is that all you were thinking about?”
My knuckles dusted the ridges of his abs. “I might’ve been thinking about how nice it would be to have you naked all day too.”
“Mm. I could be into that.” His lips were wet and minty as he kissed me. Parker pressed his fingers into the nape of my neck, and my tongue slipped into his mouth. After a minute or two, we were both breathing heavy, our chests together, our bodies ready for more. “Hell,” he groaned, resting his forehead against mine. “I could stay. I could—”
“You have to go. You have a play to write.”
He exhaled, his hot breath tickling my lips. “I don’t think I can.”
Leaning back, I said, “You know you can.”
“Because I write scripts all the time.”
I tugged him close, ignoring his sarcasm. “I’ll help you. We can make it smaller. Focus on Silas and Pan. Your play doesn’t have to be a perfect adaptation ofThe Lost Boys. Make it your own.”
“You’ll help me?” he asked, and Jesus, the look on his face.
It made my heart trip all over itself. He stared at me like I was something to be revered.
“Park… I would love to help. Every night, if you want.”
His crooked grin was back in full swing. “Every night? Do I have to be naked?”
“It’s not a requirement, but…”
Parker pinched my ass, and I swore, leaning down I bit his shoulder.
“Ow,” he groaned, and I laughed.
“Stop fucking pinching me, then.”
We were teenagers.
I cupped the side of his cheek. The pad of my thumb grazing his lower lip. “I could lower the number of assignments I give you in class. Lighten your burden.”
“No way. No special treatment,” he said, his smile gone. “I’m serious, Van. That’s when shit gets messy. Alright?”
I nodded, knowing he was right, hating myself a little for doing the one thing I promised myself I wouldn’t.
He covered my hand with his. “I don’t want you to have a reason to regret us. If things don’t—”
“Yeah, I get it.” I stepped back, the light and easy feeling of the morning drifting away.
Reality was a much heavier weight to carry.
The truth was Parker was my student. He was the first guy I’d ever been with, and he was much younger than me. We’d only been together a short while.
The truth was things might not work out.
That truth hurt me the most, because if I were being honest with myself, I might’ve already fallen for him. Not fallen in love. Not yet, at least. But shit, I could see it. It could be waking up with him and toothpaste kisses. It could be watching him grow as an author. It could be waffles with Anne on the weekends, and late-night movies with my head in his lap. The possibility of us was what made me force a smile when he called my name.
“Van…” he said as I walked toward the bathroom door. “What just happened?”
“Nothing.” My smile held, but he wasn’t buying it. I stood in the doorway and wished I hadn’t put that worried look on his face. “The thought of us not working out, of having regrets. It’s not a great feeling. Especially after...” He opened his mouth to say something, and I held up my hand. My smile was real this time. “But that’s how this works, right? Dating? Boyfriends. We see how it goes, and if we’re lucky, we find the person we’ve been looking for.”
“Am I that person for you?” he asked, prowling toward me with a cocky smirk, but his voice had vacillated enough, I noticed.
I kissed his cheek and chuckled, wrapping my arms around him. “I don’t know. But I can’t lie and say I don’t hope that it’s you.”