All The Lies We Told

CHAPTER TWO

"No fucking way!" I fumble to keep my phone from falling out of my hands. I can't believe he's doing it! It's kind of hot. We got this little game going on; couples bonding. I bet when my therapist said to me a few sessions ago: The best way to reignite that spark is by connecting over shared, fun experiences.

She sure as fuck did not mean this.
But so the fuck, what?

This is fun, we're bonding, and I've never been so attracted to him as I am right now, in this very moment. There's something about the sparkles in his eyes every time we come up with bawdy responses together or the way we evilly giggle in sync when we're being extra daring. I climb on top of him, smiling as I rest my forehead on his. "I love you." I bite my lips, ready to let him have me.

"How much?" He whispers.

I seductively trail my way up his side, up his waist and through every groove of his ribs, to his freshly grown chest stubble that I love rubbing my face in.
I can't help but let out a little laugh befo—

"This much!" I grab hold of both his nipples and twist them as hard as I can. John wiggles under me and screams bloody Mary. I let out an innocent but maniacal laugh, digging my nails into his beautiful pink nipples. He had one side pierced when we first started dating, until I started pulling at it so often that he got afraid I would rip it out. Somehow I think he secretly loves nipple pain because:
1. The piercing.
2. He loves titty twisters.

"Alright! Aubs, enough!" his arms and legs are flailing all over; he's kicked me in my head so many times now I can't even think straight or take him seriously. Why is he pretending like he isn't extremely aroused right now? He used to love it when I pinched his nipples.

Matching his body language—the only language we know—, I ease up and surrender to his pleas. "Blue?"
"Bl-" he flips me over and folds me up like a pretzel, my knees are digging into my chin. Face to face, he leans all his weight into me. "Blue what now?" he tickles me until I'm literally blue, and for tonight, I give in and enjoy the alone time we have together while I can. His parents are finally returning home after a month in Thailand for his grandpa's induction into Thailand's prestigious Kick-Boxing Hall of Fame.

Yes, you heard it here first: my boyfriend's Grandpa is a well-known kickboxer in Thailand. Cool, right? Too bad John doesn't take after his Grandpa, it'd be way more attractive if so. He wouldn't hurt a fly so roundhouse-kicking someone is completely out of the question. He barely likes getting rough when we're having sex; the most we've ever done is biting and nipple play. What a shame. Such a waste of potential genetics.

"Ok, ok, ok!" I scream tirelessly. "Please", I beg in the most innocent, girl-ish voice I could imitate. To me, I sound like the Teletubbies; but that's what men like, I guess. Blue is our safe word. He uses it more than me, but it works for us. Blue for blue balls!

We both breathe heavily, laying flat on our backs. I reach my right hand out to meet his left and we lay for a while. No talking, just breathing. "Wanna see if he responded?" I interrupt the stillness.

He jolts up, meeting my eyes at the top. "Do you really think he'll fall for it?" He helps me sit up straight again.
"Only one way to find out!" I race to his phone on the dresser and shove it in John's face to initiate facial recognition. "Remember, 2-1. Me." I remind him of our scores. One point for each successful move.

I was his shoulder to lean on when James broke up with him: 1

I convinced him to sign up for Grindr: 2

John created a Grindr account and messaged him: 1

"All he said was 'lol'." John holds up his phone, gripping it tightly while showing me his screen.

Declan H: lol.

"What time did he send that?!"

"Uh," he struggles to get the timestamp to appear.

"You're doing it wrong, here—" I reach to grab his phone,

"DON'T", he demands through his teeth, "be so grabby. Just show me." he continues in a relatively softer tone. The annoyance is written all over his face.

"All I'm trying to do is help you." I bark back.

I can't stand it. He gets so offended over the slightest things. Don't know how to use your phone? Cool. I'll show you. No big deal. Except it gets twisted into this narrative where I'm making him feel lesser than I. Like I know more and I always baby him and try to help him with things that he already knows how to do. Most of our arguments centre around me making him feel stupid and inferior. Which makes no sense, we're cut from the same cloth. #glittersnifferkids, remember?

Like when we set up the Grindr profile for instance; He couldn't figure out how to upload pictures. I watched him repeatedly go into his profile settings and look at the same options over and over until I couldn't take it anymore and tried to grab his phone from him. He instantly snatched it away as if he has something to hide and said something along the lines of 'You always try to do stuff for me like I'm stupid'. I follow it up with the same response I give to him any other time he gets like this "If you think I'm making you feel inferior, then you need to work on your own view of yourself. That wasn't my intention".

"He sent it 20 minutes ago," John answers after obviously sneaking in a how-to search on Google like I wouldn't notice.

My head is racing with words quickly passing through my mind's eye. All the work that I've put into this is paying off. FINALLY. I was beginning to get bored; less angry.

John scoffs and shakes his head at me. "I think we might have scared him off." His face is full of worry.
"Declan? Scared off?" I hang my head to the side and shake it loose. "Please, he loves the attention." I smile devilishly.

And it's true, he does. He'd do anything to make himself stand out. Like when he came out as gay, he went full on gay. Paints his nails from time to time and everything. He even joined the LGBTQ+ club in school and then made Out and proud shirts for everyone in the club. They wear it every Thursday.

"What do you want me to say now?"
"I don't know, just have conversation with him. He likes that."

Ever since we were kids, it's been nonstop about Declan. His life. His struggle with being gay. His right-winged father and his fully supportive mother. The bullies. The heartbreaks. Declan, Declan, Declan.

Well Declan, you got your wish:

You're the main character in my story.