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Chapter 5: Angels Aren’t Real
I stood at the door for another few seconds before I opened it.
Caden was in the car, one arm resting along the window frame, that same smile waiting for me as usual. It was like he knew exactly how long it would take me to come outside. I stepped onto the porch but didn't come all the way down to the curb. I heard him switch the car into park mode.
"You gonna make me sit out here all day?" he said.
"You can leave," I said.
"I could." He didn't move. "But you hearted my text. You’re driving me crazy."
"Take a hint," I said, feeling like I had just found my balls.
He looked at me for a second, and something in his face shifted, just slightly, the confidence, or cockiness, dropping for half a breath before it came back up.
"I keep thinking about that day in the driveway," he said. "When you told me you liked me."
I didn't say anything, but I stepped closer to the car, hands in my pockets, letting him talk.
"I think about it a lot, actually," he said, quieter now. "More than I should."
He was acting like an aching softy now, playing me for some sympathy.
“You just want another piece of boy ass,” I said, feeling a lump in my throat. “Then you’ll just fuck off again and pretend like I don’t exist.”
“Ouch,” he said, and I saw some real sadness in his face. “I deserve that.”
I stood there and looked at him. For a second he seemed genuine. His jaw was tight and his eyes weren't doing the flirty thing they did when he wanted something, when he was manipulating me. I didn’t see the persuasive warmth that I had resented in my head for weeks. He just looked like he had said more than he meant to, and didn't know how to take it back.
"I have stuff to do," I said.
He nodded slowly. He didn't push any further.
"Okay," he said. He started the car again. "Sorry for being a dick. I can own that."
I didn’t respond. I went back inside and stood in the front hall for a minute with my hand still on the door, thinking about his face. His car drove off a minute later, and I literally shook my head, trying to get my mind off of it. I grabbed my laptop and got started with my classwork.
—[]—
By noon, I was done for the day, and just as I threw my laptop onto my bed and stretched, heading toward my kitchen for my ritualistic, midday storm-eating sesh, I heard Patrick’s truck arrive in his driveway.
The specific rattle of his dad's work truck gave me visceral tingles, like I was a trained dog waiting for a treat from daddy. And it was especially potent since he didn’t normally come home at lunch. I went to my window and watched his sexy form step out onto the cement. He saw me and waved, then jogged across the strip of grass between our houses while I opened the window, looking down into the yard at him. He looked sweaty.
"Hey," he said, looking up at me. "I was hoping I'd run into you."
"Lunch break?" I said.
"Yeah." He squinted up at me in the sun. "I'm busy after work today unfortunately. Got something with my dad tonight."
"Oh," I said. I nodded, and felt a small flat disappointment settle in my chest. I hadn’t really expected to feel that way.
"That's fine. We don't have to see each other every day."
"I know," he said. "I just wanted to say hi at lunch, otherwise I’d miss you."
That made me smile.
“Come over and eat with me,” he said. “I can tell you haven’t had your lunch smorgasbord yet.”
I chuckled. He knew me too well.
I ran out the front door and crossed over to his house, following him inside. He was sweaty from the morning's work, his shirt darkened at the collar and under his arms, dust on his forearms and across one knee of his jeans. He had showered that morning the way he always did, I knew that, but the heat had already moistened him, and what was created was a strange mix of fresh and dirty.
I stepped up close to him from behind as he opened his fridge, grabbing food that I didn’t even pay attention to. I was more hungry for him than anything else at this point. He smelled like himself underneath it all, that clean man smell of his natural musk mixed with the wood smell of his house, and a layer of masculinity that seeped out onto his skin, and it hit me hard.
"You hungry?" he said, filling his arms with veggies and things, unaware of me perving out immediately behind him.
"For you," I said.
He turned and smiled down at me. “I only have a few minutes before I need to get back.”
"So make me something yummy," I said.
He turned and set the things on the counter. He turned to grab a pan from the cabinet, his back to me, his shirt riding up slightly at the waist when he reached for the high shelf.
I stood there and watched the muscles in his back work under the thin cotton of his shirt, watched the line of sweat at the back of his neck, and felt something in me give way before I had even decided what I was going to do.
I stepped up behind him and pressed against him, making my hardness known to his body.
He felt me there and exhaled, pressing back against me, the pan in his hand suspended halfway to the stove. I leaned my face in and pressed my cheek against the side of his neck, breathing him in. He let out a breath through his nose and set the pan down slowly on the burner, turning around, his face more serious.
I felt his boner pushing back against mine as I moved my mouth along his neck to his shoulder, tasting salt, and he turned his head slightly to give me more room as he places his palms on the corner of the countertop to steady himself. I reached up and pulled the collar of his shirt aside, running my tongue along his collarbone, and he released a low groan.
I got bolder as the temperature turned up between us. I pulled at the hem of his shirt and he lifted his arms for me. I pulled it the rest of the way off and leaned in, dragging my tongue across his chest, plump from a day’s work. I moved across to his side, finding the dip of his armpit. I tasted the moisture, distinctly male and perfectly sharp, and I didn't pull back from it.
He made a sound that was almost a laugh and brought one hand up to the back of my head and held me there, just barely pressing me into himself instead of pulling me away.
"You like that, huh," he said, his voice rougher than usual.
I didn't answer. It was too obvious that I loved it as my tongue ran circles in his arm pit, tasting the ambrosia that was better than any food in the world. As he loosened his grip, I kept going, working my way down his stomach, my hands flat against his sides, feeling him breathe harder under my palms.
I licked up to his neck again, grabbing his crotch through his pants, feeling his superior dick as it throbbed against my palm. His phone buzzed, loud against the tile countertop, making me look over at it.
I didn't mean to spy. It was just there, lit up, face up, the screen impossible not to see from where I was as I perved out on the neighbor man.
Kelly: Can't wait for you to fuck me tonight 😏
I felt my whole body go still, something disappearing that had been driving me a second prior.
Patrick looked down and saw my face and then looked at the phone. I felt his body tense up against me. He reached over and turned it face down, too late for it to matter.
I stood back slowly, trying to act casual, nodding slightly, already preparing for him to explain things, while I subconsciously prepared a monologue in my head about how “It’s ok, I don’t own you.”
I already knew what was going to happen. I just needed to hear it. He was quiet for a second, his jaw tight.
“Sorry,” he said, looking for words. “That’s this girl I've been seeing."
I nodded again. “No, it’s ok.”
Quiet.
“How long have you been seeing her?” I asked, feeling my throat start to tighten.
"Well, like a year, technically, but it’s not serious.”
I felt a strangely strong, crushing tension pull at my stomach. I pictured him saying the same thing to someone else about me. Technically we weren’t “serious”.
"But you're seeing her," I said.
"Yeah." He looked at me steadily, not flinching from it, which somehow made it worse. "We never really talked about, like. Us. Or what this is."
"No," I said. "We didn't."
"I should've brought it up," he said.
“I…” I started, but my eyes were suddenly hard to see through, some tears escaping through my thin veil of pride. I felt embarrassed, and hated that I felt that way.
"I just didn't know when to bring it up, honestly,” he went on. “With everything that happened with Caden, I didn't want to add more to it for you."
I felt my eyes start to fill and I willed it to stop, my tear ducts didn't listen.
"It's fine," I said, wiping my face. My voice did something wrong on the second word.
"It's not fine," he said. "You're crying."
"I'm not," I said, and a tear went down my face right as I said it, which made the lie obvious and a little embarrassing.
He stepped toward me and the strange emotional ups and downs of the day folded together at once. Something heavy weighed me down from the inside of my abdomen, and I didn't move.
He hugged me, tightly. I smelled my own spit on his body as he held my head against his chest. He had to go back to work, and I knew that. His dad was probably already wondering where he was, based on what I knew, and I stood there in his kitchen anyway as he apologized with his chest, a bunch of food ingredients going untouched on the counter, and a phone face down next to them.
"I'm sorry, dude," he said quietly into the top of my head. He held me tighter, wrapping both arms around me all the way, one hand coming up to the back of my head, the other flat against my back. I felt his heart beat against my temple, his pecs still damp, and warm, and I let myself cry into it for a second even though I had just told him I wasn't.
"It's okay," I said into his chest. "I mean it. We never said we were anything. I’m just… emotional."
"No," he said. "I’m a dick. I’m sorry."
He rubbed my back slowly, his palm moving in wide circles, and we stood like that in his kitchen for longer than either of us probably had time for.
"I gotta go," he finally said. "My dad's gonna kill me."
"Go," I said, pulling back and wiping my face with the back of my hand. "I'm fine."
He looked at me like he didn't quite believe it, but he grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it back on and squeezed my shoulder once before he headed for the door.
I let myself out a minute later and walked back across the grass to my own house, and I didn't look back at his window the way I usually did. I sat for a while, wondering what to do with myself, with my feelings. I wished I had more actual friends. I scrolled through instagram trying to think of who I could talk to. I wound up messaging a few people to say hey, got a couple replies, and messaged somewhat mundanely, briefly catching up before I realized I didn’t want to just drama dump on these people that I wasn’t even that close to. I tossed my phone to the side and opened my laptop, deciding to get a head start on more schoolwork.
—[]—
The email came in that afternoon while I was lying on my bed, still just trying not to think about things.
Your transcript submission is incomplete. Please submit the missing official document in your student portal by end of day to avoid forfeiting your enrollment.
I read it twice and felt a fresh and entirely different kind of dread settle into my stomach. I had thought I'd already turned everything in. Apparently my high school fucked up my order, and I had to do something quickly or else risk having wasted my entire summer so far.
The weather was good, warm but not unbearable, and I didn't feel like asking anyone for a ride or explaining where I was going or why I looked like I'd been crying an hour earlier. I got my bike out of the garage and pumped the back tire and rode the fifteen minutes to school with my backpack bouncing against my spine the whole way, sweat building under my collar by the time I reached the big, brick building that I was too familiar with.
The parking lot was nearly empty, the way it always was in summer, just a handful of cars scattered across an acre of pavement.
I saw the white Tesla before I saw anything else.
It was parked near the side entrance, where the athletes go in. It was alone in its row, gleaming faintly in the afternoon sun. My stomach dropped the second I recognized it, a sharp, immediate plummet, and right after that, I felt my body exhibit a different reaction entirely, something I didn't want and couldn't stop, a hot uncomfortable pulse low in my body that had no business showing up at a moment like this. I was hard, aching, all the unsatisfied lust from earlier that had been brewing in the background during the overshadowing disappointment.
I rode closer to the Tesla. There was no one around. I didn't slow down or circle around or pick a different rack on the other side of the building. I rolled my bike right up next to the Caden’s front bumper and set my kickstand down.
I stood there for a second, looking at the building, my heart going harder than the ride alone could explain, and I walked inside.