The Hateful Heavy Heart | 18+

07 - When It Feels Too Real

I awoke feeling warm and safe, the feeling of another body pressed against mine. When I opened my eyes, I was delighted to see the warm body in my bed. For the second time in what felt like years, I woke to the sight of Ruggiero's tranquil face.

So much better than waking up next to Garret.

Ruggiero's body was comforting and smelled nice and musky, a smell that could be blamed on his natural scent and the fragrance of his cologne. His arm was draped lazily around my waist, holding my torso to his.

I was fucking mesmerized, but the intimacy of our position scared me. I wanted more than an extra close acquaintanceship, or whatever we were doing. But I knew that all I could really offer him was the use of my warm body.

It was much too early to be thinking that way. On that note, I wriggled out of Ruggiero's hold and climbed out of bed. If I woke him up in the process, he was damn good at playing sleep.

I was searching for a pair of yoga pants to pull on when I heard, "Dio, you're so beautiful."

I ended my search and with a scowl, I turned toward him. At times, I hated the handsome man. "Stop talking out of your ass," I scolded. "Are you hungry?"

"Why don't you believe that you're beautiful?"

"Ruggiero, it's early. I don't want to talk about this."

"Okay, Jace." He climbed out of my bed before bending down. He picked up the pants he discarded the night before and put them on. He kept eye contact with me as he picked up his shirt, the contact only breaking when he pulled the shirt over his head.

I pulled out a random pair of sweatpants before putting them on. Ruggiero's question still resided in my head. "Growing up, I have never been beautiful. Guys didn't like me for my face. Or my personality. They liked me for my body. Nothing has changed now that I'm an adult." I turned away from him and dug in my drawer for my old college hoodie. "Being beautiful has never gotten me anywhere and it isn't going to start now."

"You're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, Jace Thompson. Inside and out."

I hastily pulled the hoodie on and turned toward him. "Ruggiero, stop. I really don't have time for lies. If you want to fuck me, just tell me."

"I do," he admitted. "But not like this. I am not lying to you, Jace. I have never lied to you and I'm not going to start now, bellissima. You aren't just some one-night stand, Jace. I'm not here for the sole purpose of getting my dick wet."

"Why are you here?"

"If you don't know, then maybe I should go."

"What, you're really going to tell me that I'm beautiful again, that you like me, and you see something in me? Because if so, that's really humorous." In reality, what was humorous was the fact that I couldn't manage to get myself to shut up. He wanted me, I wanted him, but I wanted him to only want me for what I could do. I didn't do well with feelings.

I kind of wanted him to tell me those things. I kind of wanted to believe him when he said I was beautiful, but I knew better. After all, it was too early in the day for him to be senseless.

Ruggiero shook his head at me, grimacing. "Jesus, you are really fucking something. Did you know that, dolcezza? You are really something." He was looking at me intently. I hated when he did that, the staring.

When people stared, they started seeing things that weren't there. They started seeing more of a warm body. They started seeing beauty—"underlying beauty" is what they claimed it was—and I hated it. Someone once told me that if it wasn't for my nasty attitude, I would be wife material. I didn't want to be wife material.