Unthinkable

July***Part 3

***Author's Note:  TRIGGER WARNING! This chapter may contain language and imagery that may be a trigger for some people.  ***

***

I got my stuff packed early so I could spend the night hanging out with Jake. His mom is out of town. We've got the place to ourselves.

I check out "Reality Bites" from Wakefield Video — Blockbuster was out of it — and pick up food from Giulio's, before heading over. Of course, I'm not really hungry. Which may or may not have something to do with the two giant half-moons I scarfed down on the way over.

Chocolate AND Vanilla frosting — who can resist? Really?

"Let's set up a little picnic feast on the coffee table," Jake suggests. "Take these down, I'll meet you down there."

I carry our plates down to the basement. We've arranged quite a nice feast, I think as I step back to admire it all.

"Incoming." I turn to see him carrying several drinks, napkins, silverware, and the extra bag of rolls and butter, in a gentle balancing act. I reached out to help him, and that's when I saw it.

On the wall, behind me, just beside the TV, a giant plaster patch in the wood paneling. Does it seem darker than normal in here? Where's the halogen lamp?

He notices my distraction. Tracing my gaze with his. "Yeah, I still have to paint it. I told you I was plastering over the weekend." So nonchalant. He did tell me his parents had teamed up to make him fix the holes, I just assumed it was the two upstairs. I didn't realize there were more down here. I wonder when that happened. That's a big one, definitely much bigger than the others.

"You want eggplant too, or just ravioli?" He shakes my shoulder, knocking me out of my trance. "Just ravioli for now, thanks." He's so cute making plates.

But that hole. When did that get there?

"Extra cheese?" Holding the freshly grated pecorino under my nose.

"Always. Take what you want, I'll use the rest."

We smoosh down into the couch, balancing our plates on our laps and hit play on the video.

Damn I love these ravioli. Who said I was full?

After dinner, we are working off the calories from dinner with an aggressive make-out session. Really sweating. Lots of time to make up for.

We are barely half way through the movie, when my shirt lands in the leftover eggplant.

"Oh shit!" I wiggle out from under him, to see him gently picking my shirt out of the tinfoil pan. Crap! That's definitely going to stain. My mother's gonna kill me — that shirt is new. "Guess I'm going to have to borrow a shirt to go home."

He tosses my shirt onto the floor, apparently not concerned about stains on the carpet, and redirects his attention to the nape of my neck.

"No hickies! I've got to be in a bathing suit in front of my dad." Jake grumbles. He heard me, but he isn't stopping. I push gently on his bare shoulders. He takes direction well, shifting his focus lower. It kinda tickles, I get a little charge I wasn't prepared for. And, he really likes that.

***

We come up for air between movies. Nothing like full volume snow on the television to kill the mood. I cleared the plates, while he gets me outfitted with one of his t-shirts. Even though I have cargo shorts on you can't tell — I am swimming in his old boarding school t-shirt.