Page 60 of A Minute More
“I’m sorry…you should have woken me earlier.”
“Nah, this was nice. I’d have peed my pants if it meant I could hold you longer.”
“Please don’t ever do that,” he says, his lips turning up in a soft grin.
“I like it when you smile.”
His cheeks flame and he rubs at them, as if trying to rid himself of the color. But I like it on him.
Getting up, I move to the bathroom, pissing for a long time and then washing my hands. When I make my way back to the main room of his apartment, I see Simon in the kitchen, his ass out, his head in the fridge.
I stare at that round rump a little too long as I move in behind him. My finger traces a line across one cheek and he snaps up, smacking his head on the edge of the fridge, cursing for a second as he rubs the sore spot on his skull.
“Damn, you move fast. Like a Ninja Turtle,” I say with a smirk, and Simon blushes while setting some bread and turkey on the counter.
“I um, thought you’d be hungry. It’s been a while since you’ve eaten.”
“You know me well. I can always eat.”
We both shift toward the counter at the same time as we construct our sandwiches, him with just turkey and bread and mine the same but with layers of mayo and cheese. I don’t know how he can eat it dry like that. Or why he has condiments in his fridge if he doesn’t use them. Many more mysteries, it seems.
When we’re done, I lean against the counter, ripping into the bread as I assess the man who’s consumed my thoughts for months. He daintily picks at his sandwich, his eyes flicking to mine before falling to the counter.
Guess he plans on avoiding the elephant in the room. Good thing I can’t help but bring it up.
“Want to share what happened last night?” I ask, and Simon swallows roughly.
“Do I have to?”
I arch an eyebrow at him, and he lets out a long breath, realizing there’s no escaping it. “That was John.”
My eyebrow moves higher at the lack of information, but he just stuffs his mouth with food, trying to avoid the unavoidable. No way am I leaving Simon here without a simple explanation. I can’t leave him without knowing he’s okay.
“Okay, you’re gonna make me pull it out of you. Cool. I can do that.” Simon’s eyes slam into mine as I ask, “Who’s John?”
Simon shuffles on his feet, reaching into the fridge and slowly rearranging things. I let him do this for a bit before pulling him back against me and shutting the fridge door.
“Come on, Simon. Tell me.”
“He’s…he’s just a sad man. He lost his son. And sometimes I need to…I need to calm him down.”
My eyebrows meet, and I set my sandwich down right on the counter, making Simon pick it up and set it on his plate.
“And why is that your job?”
Simon lets out a shaky breath and then turns his head. “I don’t want to talk about this…I don’t…Ican’t.”
His shoulders slump and he suddenly looks defeated. “I’m a bad person, Wesley. Don’t shake your head at me. I am…I’m a freak, okay? I…I saw you working in that sandwich shop and only got a job there because you were so fucking hot. And I did it all knowing I could never have you.”
That knowledge makes something shift in my stomach. Butterflies taking flight. Just right off the goddamn runway. He got that job for me? Holy fuck. Why is that so romantic?
“Yeah?” I ask, smiling widely, John immediately forgotten.
Simon peeks up at me. “I’m a creep, Wesley. I…I got a job that I don’t need just so I could see you! So I could be next to you!”
A laugh bubbles out of me as I reach out and pull him into me, pressing my face into his hair.
“No way. Not creepy or weird. I think that’s sweet as fuck.”