Hush

Chapter 13: The Cat Who Got The Cream

Here's a discovery: John Laurens is gay.

Very gay.

And thank god for that.

After he silently accepted my proposal, we ran toward his house and locked ourselves inside his room, even if we were only ones there. It's been around forty minutes since lunch ended and I don't even have the energy to panic about skipping class and breaking my perfect attendance record, because who cares about that when I can be resting on John's firm, freckled chest and enjoy the pleasant ache the scratches on my back left.

I stare at John but he isn't looking at me, instead his eyes fixed on the window beside the bed (and god what a big, comfortable bed John has). I entertain myself by kissing every single spot of his body my lips can reach, happy and oh so satisfied by the fact that I have seen and touched John in ways I assume no other person has. But at the same time, I'm trying to distract myself from the anxiety creepy on the back of my brain, because John hasn't said anything since we finished and I can't help but fear I royally fucked up while trying to do the contrary.

"Hey," I mumble quietly against his collarbone, deciding that I'm done with this silence.

"Hey," He says back, finally taking his eyes away from the window and toward me. For a second I feel uncomfortable, being bare under his gaze, but I force the discomfort away. It's just John. And me. John and me.

"Are you... okay with this?" I ask carefully and his cheeks heat up again at the reminder of what we just did.

"I— yeah, I guess I— I've just never done this before. I mean I have but—,"

"Not like this." I finish for him and try to hide my smile. I know. I noticed.

"Yeah, I... I'm not sure... of how to go from here,"

I let my eyes fall shut as I make a mental list regarding the situation:

•I just had sex with John Laurens, the handsome and wonderful boy I've been lusting and crushing after for weeks, maybe months.

•I offered John to help him blow off steam, and that's exactly what I did. As far as he knows, there are no feelings attached to this.

•If this means there's a chance he'll stay out of fights, I'm more than willing to continue on his terms.

•Like, seriously. I'm more than happy to comply.

"Do you want to do this again?" I settle for asking. He subtly bites his lip but I still notice, and I'm happily reminded of a similar face he was making not so long ago.

"If we do continue... this. We'll still be friends, right?" John asks back.

"Of course," I nod and my heart clenches uncomfortably in my ribs. "It'll just be friends helping each other out," I say, and I mean it. Lately, my only bedroom companion has been my left hand given the fact that I haven't really been able to be genuinely attracted to anyone other than John for more than fifteen minutes. Everything will be going smoothly and then before I know it I'm thinking about how they don't have the same awkward freckles. It's stressful in a way, honestly. My dick too has needs.

His stares at me, his hazel irises drilling into my soul as his eyes squint slightly. "Okay." He says, and I smile.

"Good." I agree and push myself up on my elbows to be able to lean toward his face. Finally, I'll be able to know the taste of his tan, soft looking, freckle ridden lips.

My lips are met with a finger instead.

"Don't," He says and I pout. "Alex. If we're gonna keep this up, then we need rules. And the first one is that I don't want you to kiss me. It just doesn't feel right,"

I sigh with silent disappointment and settle for kissing his chin instead. So close, yet so far still.

"Of course, my dear," I slip up before I can help myself. Whatever, the blush that goes all the way from his cheeks down to his chest is worth it.

He smiles and passes his hand over my already messed up hair playfully. "With those nicknames you'd think you're trying to pursue me, Alex,"

Hah.

Yeah.

•••

Even in this non-romantic relationship, John still prefers to take it slow. And I don't mind. I'm used to being the charmer and John makes it a really desirable job. Occasionally, it will be him who unexpectedly throws a wink from afar or pinches my hips jokingly when we talk, and my very soul melts like ice cream on a summer day every time.

I've been acting careless and precautious simultaneously. Now, we meet up outside of school more often when we can and where know there won't be anyone to see, and I throw lie after lie toward my friends as easy as breathing. It's selfish, I know, but god some stupid high school drama won't take John away from me. Even if I can't kiss him or tell him just how much he means to me and know such feelings are returned, in a way he's still mine. He's mine to see smiling so wide his dimples show, he's mine when we're in the back of the school playing with Brutus, he's mine when he shows me his art and when our bodies melt together like two burning candles behind locked doors. He's mine to see happy and careless for a bit. And I cherish it even though it's not all I wish I had.

And if he only wants to be my friend who I occasionally have sex with, then that's fine. I'll take what I can.