Mr. Hawkin

Chapter 5

"Well, wanna head outside?"

I nod my head and follow him outside of the startlingly unfamiliar patio. It somehow looks nothing like it did in the message he had sent me. What looked like a dreamy interpretation of a Better Homes And Gardens magazine over the phone, seemed like nothing more than a loosely thrown together interpretation of the Lowe's clearance section. He grabs his water hose, which is carelessly thrown onto a hanger on the side of the concrete house. Methodically, he begins watering his plants, carefully misting down each and every terracotta pot that lined the tiny suggestion of a patio.

Perhaps accidentally, or in a fit of lust, he sprays me with the hose.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry about that, let me help you."

Before I have a chance to respond, he leans over and takes off my shirt, in an instant every single alarm sensor in my body goes off. I can't tell if I'm turned on, or trumpingly freaked out by this encounter. All I know is that this man, who I have come to quite like, and I are sharing this moment together. Shirtless. In an instant, he sprays my shorts as well.

"Do you need me to help you with those?" he asks slyly.

I can't let myself take this leap, it feels so wrong.

"No, I can just keep them on."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, really, it's okay"

"Sam, come on, I think you need my help with those."

He's looking at me now, but not in the same way he's ever looked at me before. He's looking at me with the same intensity as when it felt like he desired me, only this time, it's as though he's gonna do what he wants no matter what I say.

He ended up coming close to me, and looking deeply into my eyes, in a way that made me feel wildly unsafe.

"Sam. I'm gonna help you with those."

"No really-"

Before I can even finish the sentence, he has his hands on the waistband of my shorts. His fingers are slipping below them, and my heart begins racing. Not racing in a good, butterflies in my stomach kind of way, but in a fight or flight kind of way. He slowly pulls down my shorts and there I am. On his patio, with nothing but my underwear on, in a fashion that feels dangerously public.

"Let's go inside."

He guides me off of his patio, and into the now familiar shitty living room. He gestures for me to sit down on the lousy excuse for a futon, and I do.

"Is it okay if I take off my shorts too?"

He's asking me this, but it doesn't appear as if I truly have a choice, because he already has his finger underneath his waistband in the same way he had them under mine.

"Of course."

I lied.

He slowly takes off his shorts in a way that can only be seen as an attempt at some sort of strip tease. It isn't working. I'm no longer into this. He casually sits down on the Futon next to me, taking my hand and holding it. I'm soaking wet, in nothing but my underwear, next to someone who I'm now finding myself being into again. After what seemed like such a whirlwind of perversion between our relationship, this act of calm intertwinement feels safe. I feel safe with him at this moment. Sitting there, together, I feel like there is nothing that could come between our connection. My phone dings. Dammit. A text from mom is what's responsible for breaking this thick space of silence.

"Your brother is home" the screen reads.

Holy shit.