Beside

12 - vibrating

"Fox, Tommy said my two dads are unnatural and I'm not their daughter. He's wrong, right?"

"Tommy's brain is a pea. Of course he's fucking wrong."

"Fox! No cussing! Ms. Hickens is gonna—"

"Want me to punch Tommy at recess?"

"Yes, please."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

c h r i s

The laundry room smells like detergent and warm fabric, the air heavy with the constant hum of machines. These ones are fancy. New. Expensive.

I fold my warm shirts slowly, smoothing the soft cotton between my fingers. When the washer sings its little song, I lift the cover and take the damp clothes out. I toss them into the dryer with a few fabric sheets.

"Busy night for laundry?"

I glance over my shoulder. Fox leans against the doorframe in sweats. His arms are crossed over a loose white shirt with a pride flag on the front. He looks down, noticing my stare. 

"Jed bought it for me at a parade. It's tighter than it used to be."

Yes. His biceps are straining against it.

I promptly turn around, gulping.

Fox steps further into the room. I feel it. My hands grip the edge of the vibrating dryer, a quiet storm building in my chest.

"How long are we gonna do this avoiding thing?" He comes closer, spiced and warm. "We both know there's tension here, Chris. We don't have to dance around it."

He's so matter-of-fact, so practical, it makes me want to ask how.

"Why don't we just make it simple? I don't want a relationship, but I do want you. And you..." His voice lowers, a breath against the back of my neck. "You want me too."

I blink, my mind spinning. I takes me back to the night we met at the bar. One-night stands. Hypotheticals that are coming true. 

"You... You think that would solve everything?"

"It's practical. No strings, no pressure, no pain."

My hands fumble as I try to fold another shirt on the table. I don't know about this.

"Remember the club?" he says. "What'd that feel like, darling?"

My body betrays me, leaning back into his warmth before I can stop myself. "It felt... good."

"I think you're just scared," he murmurs, his lips brushing the skin. "But I've seen the other side of you already." He presses closer, fingers sliding just under the hem of my shirt. Goosebumps prick all over my arms. "It'd be so easy. ust let go."

He's right. I want to feel this, to lose myself, to bask in the fact that he wants me.

His hand skims the skin of my stomach, sending an electric pulse of warmth between my legs. I squirm, my breath catching as he leans in closer, his teeth grazing my ear. "I want to show you." He presses a soft kiss to my neck, right where my pulse hammers beneath my skin. "May I?"

I fall back into his chest, exhaling, "Yes."

His hand slips under the waistband of my pants. As they brush over the thin fabric of my underwear, I squeeze my eyes shut.