He Made Me Stay

by K. Webster

  “Am not!” the boy shrieks while the girl giggles.

  “Boys,” Tad chides, though not at all serious. His eyes are now sweeping down my form, studying me with quiet scrutiny. “Nice to meet you, Jasper. Your shirt’s wet.”

  “Your wife soaked him,” Kit tattles.

  Tad grins. “She’s a little crazy that one.” He motions for the kids rolling past us. “Bo and Quinn are the little skateboarding vermin.” He notices the way Kit holds my hand. “Boyfriend, huh?”

  “They’re impossible,” Kit explains to me, not answering his dad’s question. “You just have to ignore them.”

  “Hard to ignore when the Strong Force is everywhere,” Tad says, making his voice deep and cryptic like he’s announcing a sci-fi movie. “Welcome to the club.”

  Kit takes me into the kitchen and leads me over to the notepad. Reluctantly, I write my mom’s information down before accepting snacks Kit shoves my way. I’m enamored by the way he babbles about everything. Once he’s eaten his fill and checked his monitor through his special watch, he takes my hand again.

  We’re almost to the stairs when Tad calls out to us.

  “No hanky-panky under my roof!” He cackles, reminding me of his son.

  “See what I have to put up with?” Kit groans while I turn a million shades of red. “Come on. Let’s get away from the geezers and farm animals.” His voice is loud enough his dad hears, earning more laughter.

  I’m slightly dazed as he points at bedrooms along the way, explaining who sleeps where. We end up in a room that’s most definitely Kit’s. It looks like a rainbow threw up all over it. Funny posters line the walls and his stuff is piled up everywhere. It’s chaotic like him and his family.

  He shuts the door behind me and tosses his bag on the floor. I stand there, shifting on my feet, unsure what to do or say. After he hands me a shirt, I quickly swap it out, leaving mine on the floor.

  “I need to rest a minute,” he tells me as he pulls off his man purse and sets it on the end table. I’d learned at lunch it holds all his supplies like insulin and syringes and alcohol pads. “Come have a rest, Jasper. You look like you need it.”

  I am tired.

  So tired.

  I kick off my shoes like he does and round the bed to the other side. Once we’re both stretched out, I can’t help but turn on my side so I can see him.

  “Can I see the pump again?”

  Our eyes meet and his darken slightly. It makes me want to stare at his lips as he licks them, but I want to see his stomach again. He draws up the material. Gingerly, I reach out and touch the device. Then, my fingers graze over his abdominal muscles.

  “That tickles,” he breathes.

  “Oh,” I say, withdrawing my hand.

  “I like it, though.”

  The air grows thick with tension as I explore his stomach like I craved to do the moment I first saw it. Each time my fingers dance over his happy trail, he groans. I notice how hard he is in his cargo pants, which makes me hard too.

  “I’m glad I met you today,” he murmurs. “You’re the most fascinating person I’ve ever met.”

  I frown, jerking my gaze up to his. “Me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m not fascinating.”

  “I’ve never seen someone think so loud or wear their emotions so plainly on their face before.”

  I’m that obvious to him? To other people?

  “I should text my mom,” I grumble, rolling onto my back.

  My screensaver is a picture of me and Julian. It hurts to look at it. I swipe my phone, quickly finding Mom’s contact info.

  Me: I’m at a friend’s but I’ll be home by dinner.

  Mom: Who? Which friend? Are you okay?

  The urgency in her text confuses me.

  Me: Kit Strong. His mom wants to have dinner with us tomorrow. She forced me to give her your number.

  She doesn’t respond for a long moment even though the dots start and stop several times. Finally, she responds.

  Mom: Take your time, sweetie. Enjoy your friend. We can eat without you if you’re having fun.

  Me: I can’t miss meatloaf tonight.

  Mom: There’ll always be leftovers. Are you sure you’re okay? I’ve never heard of this boy. Is he nice?

  Me: He’s nice.

  Mom: What’s he look like?

  Kit scoots closer, nosily reading our texts. “She’s like my mom.”

  A chuckle escapes me. “Yeah, I guess they’re all the same.”

  “I like your laugh,” Kit murmurs, his breath hot and tickling my cheek.

  “I like yours too.”

  “Take a picture.” He leans over and I know he’s cheesin’ without having to look at him.

  Flipping the camera to selfie mode, I find that my lips are curling into a grin when I see how ridiculous Kit is being with his too big smile. He reaches forward and mashes the button.

  I send it to Mom.

  Me: Oh, honey, he’s adorable. Have fun. Don’t let me bother you two.

  “Can you send it to me?” Kit asks.

  I hand my phone to him and he sets to texting himself the picture. I’m mildly annoyed when he also changes the screensaver on my phone. But, each time I look at the picture of Kit’s goofy grin, I smile too.

  “Hey, Jasper?”

  I set my phone on my stomach and turn to look at him. “Mmm?”

  “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  Jasper

  His green-blue eyes sparkle with delight. Of all the guys I’ve kissed, not one has looked at me like I’m special and worthy and unique. My breath hitches when he lowers his pink, pink strawberry lips to mine.

  I need the sweetness.

  I need his lips.

  Before he reaches me, his grin quirks up on one side as his fingers run through my hair. My hair, like Julian’s was, is light brown and wavy. Mom would get onto us when it got too long. Mine hangs over my brows lately, curling slightly around my ears and at my nape, but she doesn’t complain.

  Mom doesn’t complain about anything when it comes to me anymore.

  Before I’m allowed to ponder why, Kit’s lips are on mine firm and demanding. I groan, not at all surprised at his insistence. Though Kit is colorful and loud and adorably dorky, he’s absolutely my type.

  Confident. Forward. Energetic.

  I need someone to counteract all my wrongness. Someone opposite. Warmth to my cold. Light to my dark. Good to my…whatever it is I am.

  My lips part to allow his tongue entry. We both moan when our kiss intensifies. I feel as though Kit is trying to consume me. I like it. So much. His fingers spear into my hair, tugging and stroking. It makes me want to touch him too. I run my own fingers through his hair, loving how his curls spring up once they come loose from my grip.

  He pulls away, my bottom lip caught between his teeth. I’m shocked by the sting of it and pop my eyes open. Fiery intensity blazes in his eyes that seem more green than blue at the moment. His smile is gone, even after he releases me from his bite. We’re both panting hard and I’m hard as a rock in my jeans.

  I want to rip his shirt off.

  To go down on him.

  Beg him to do the same to me.

  I want him.

  “Anyone ever tell you your gray eyes are stormy?” he murmurs, pecking my lips and then my cheek and then my nose.

  “Mom calls them my gloomy clouds. She says every gloomy cloud is gifted a rainbow.”

  His smile flashes across his face, bathing me in its warm light. “I like that.”

  “I like you,” I murmur, pulling him to me again.

  We kiss urgently for what feels like hours. My lips are raw and my jaw aches. Somehow while we made out, we each ended up on our sides, our legs tangled while our free hands explored. Each time his fingers tease at my belt line on my lower stomach, I feel like I’ll nut in my pants. He knows it too because he grins wider each time.

  “You want me to touch you,” he murmurs. “Don’t you?”<
br />
  I swallow and nod. “I do.”

  “This weekend.” His palm ghosts over my dick. “Stay the night.”

  Images of us in this bed, late at night, naked and writhing has me nearly forgetting my own name. I buck my hips toward his hand, wanting the feel the power of his hand wrapped around me.

  “Promise,” he pleads.

  I grip his wrist, pulling him to me. “I promise.”

  He rewards me by stroking me over my jeans. I groan against his lips, so close to coming, it’s embarrassing.

  “Kit,” I rasp out. “I want you to fuck me.”

  He pulls his hand away, kissing me gently. “We have all year, quark.”

  We only have tonight.

  Well, and tomorrow because his mom wants to meet mine.

  And this weekend because I promised him.

  “I have to go,” I whisper, hating how my chest locks up. “I…I have to go.”

  Before I can slip out of the bed, he fists my shirt. “Jasper, stay.”

  It’s like he knows I have an expiration date.

  No one knows.

  So why does it feel like he’s trying to keep me tethered to the world I no longer belong to?

  “It’s meatloaf night,” I say dumbly. “Mom will be upset if I miss it.”

  His smile fades and his brows furl as he watches me slide out of the bed. I right my clothes and mess with my hair. My dick has softened once my thoughts turned dark.

  “I’ll text you later.”

  I nod and start for the door. Before I leave, I sweep my stare over his body, settling at the way his dick strains in his cargo pants and the way his shirt has ridden up to expose his monitor on his abdomen.

  “Are you low?” I ask, though I don’t exactly know all the lingo.

  “High off you.” He snorts. “I’ll be okay.”

  His answer has me hesitating by the door. Finally, I release a sigh and give him a small wave. I hurry down the stairs. His family is in the kitchen all cooking. I peek my head inside and clear my throat.

  “You leaving, hon?” Leesa asks.

  “Um, yeah.” I fidget, unable to meet her eyes. “We, uh, studied a lot. Kit seems tired. Maybe you want to check on him.”

  She smiles, exchanges a look I don’t interpret with Tad, and then hurries past me. “Thanks, Jasper. See you tomorrow.”

  The ride home is like waking up from a Julian dream. In those dreams, he laughs and teases me. He pokes at me. He tries to get me to smile. But when I wake, I’m reminded he’s dead and I’m all alone. Half of a whole. Barely breathing.

  I pull into the driveway behind Mom’s vehicle and climb out. Rather than reaching for my pill bottle, I pull out the pin Kit gave me this morning. I’m still studying it when I walk into the living room.

  The house smells like meatloaf and memories of a better time. I want to walk back outside, running far, far away. Instead, I carry my feet toward the kitchen where Dad is working on a salad while Mom fusses with a meat thermometer.

  “Smells good,” I rumble.

  Both their heads snap to mine, several emotions flipping over their features. Confusion. Elation. Sadness. Relief. Why are they looking at me this way?

  “I spoke to Dr. Strong,” Mom says, her features settling on happy. “She’s a lovely lady. Very friendly. They invited us over for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “I didn’t know you made a new friend,” Dad adds. “Glad to hear it, though.”

  Both of them watch me with an expectant, hopeful expression.

  “I, uh,” I mutter. “He’s nice. I like him.”

  “Did you kiss him?” Mom teases.

  My skin burns red-hot and I shoot Dad an exasperated look. He smirks and shrugs.

  “Carla, honey, leave the boy alone,” Dad finally says.

  “What?” she whines, holding her very pregnant belly. “I’ve been waiting for him to find a new boyfriend. The last one was Henry. Henry was sweet, but not sweet enough for my boy.”

  Henry and I dated up until my brother’s death. After that night, I slowly cut him away from me along with everyone else.

  “Kit’s not my boyfriend.” I frown at her, trying to ignore her giddy expression. “He’s not.”

  “Don’t lie,” she chides. “I can always tell when you lie.”

  Dad chuckles when my face flashes hot again. “Are you wearing his shirt? Because it’s a size too small and quite…colorful.”

  “Can we eat already?” I grumble as I place my hand on her stomach.

  The twins are active, rolling and kicking like usual. It makes me wonder if Julian and I were that way. Did we bounce around her womb like hyper kittens?

  “I love you,” Mom whispers, covering my hand with hers.

  Her words cut into me in a way that stings. I recoil and retreat away from her, making a beeline for the table. I’ve just settled at it when I notice her shooting Dad a helpless look. Her eyes are watery and her lip wobbles.

  I don’t like seeing Mom cry.

  Staring at the tabletop, I think of happier things. Like Kit’s face. His man purse. His pink, pink strawberry lips. The way he made friends with Eric Davidson of all people.

  “What’s that, Jasp?” Dad asks as he sets the salad in the middle of the table.

  “Oh…” I hand him the pin. “Kit gave it to me in first hour. He wouldn’t stop talking to me after that.”

  “Stay positive.” Dad sets the pin back down on the table with a plink. “Words of wisdom.”

  Mom brings the meatloaf over as Dad fetches the rolls. She hands out the plates and silverware next. Dad brings over a pitcher of tea. I’m ravenous.

  I dive into Mom’s meatloaf and decide it’s never tasted more delicious. And to think, I almost missed it. Regret roils in my stomach, but I swallow it down with more tasty meatloaf. My parents are behaving strangely tonight. I want to ask them what’s going on, but in the end, decide to talk about something else besides me.

  “Kit has Type 1 diabetes,” I tell them. “He has a monitor and an insulin pump. If he gets out of whack, he has to bolus.” I quickly chew down another bite. “He has a tattoo on his middle finger. Some kind of diabetes symbol that lets people know about his condition. A lot of people wear a bracelet, but not Kit. I don’t think Leesa likes it, but Tad thinks it’s cool.”

  “A rebel, huh?” Dad asks, flexing his bicep to show off his whole sleeve of tattoos.

  Mom laughs. “Zach, you’re not a rebel. You’re an accountant.”

  “An accountant who plays in a Led Zeppelin cover band.” He winks at me and flashes me a rock-n-roll sign with his fingers. “I can’t help it if I’m responsible and rebellious.”

  “Try not to show off too much at dinner tomorrow night,” Mom chides. “We don’t want to run our son’s boyfriend off.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I grumble, but a smile peeks through.

  Maybe he is. For this week.

  “You forgot to bring your backpack to school,” Mom says, not meeting my stare. “Try not to forget tomorrow.”

  Dad’s gaze is probing as he waits for my response.

  “I’ll bring it tomorrow,” I assure her.

  Both of my parents relax.

  I dart my eyes back and forth between them, trying to read their unspoken glances. What is it that they’re thinking?

  Once I’m done eating, I stand up to grab my plate, my pills in my pocket rattling.

  “How is the medication?” Mom asks, chewing on her bottom lip. “Did it work?”

  “The doctor said it’d take up to two weeks to get it in his system,” Dad reminds her, a warning in his tone.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it helped a little. It’s hard to tell.” I shrug as I make my way over to the sink. “Can I spend the night at Kit’s this weekend?”

  “Yes,” both my parents bark out almost with too much excitement.

  I frown, studying them both. “He might be my boyfriend by then,” I challenge, wanting to see their reaction.

&nbs
p; “You’re a smart, responsible young man,” Dad says, lifting a brow at me. “Correct?”

  “Yes,” I murmur.

  “It’s good to have someone you want to spend time with, right, Carla?”

  “Absolutely,” Mom agrees.

  They’re being so strange.

  “Want to help your mother clean the kitchen?” Dad asks. “Then we could mess around on that new amp I got.”

  “The babies love the bass,” Mom says with a chuckle. “They’re just like you two.”

  I’m nodding at my dad as my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, a grin tugging at my lips when I see Kit’s face.

  Kit: Homeslice brought in a giant rat. Wasn’t dead yet either. Mom screamed so loud I’m sure the entire neighborhood thought someone was being murdered. Vesper wants to keep it as a pet. Dad hasn’t moved from his recliner because he’s Googling ways to get the rat out of the house. Meanwhile, Mom hasn’t stopped yelling at Dad to get off his ass to kill it.

  I laugh just imagining it.

  Me: Sounds intense.

  Kit: You have no idea. How was meatloaf?

  Me: Amazing. I think it’s the best version she’s ever made. I’m glad I didn’t miss it.

  Kit: Me too, quark.

  When I look up, my mom is crying, but she’s smiling. I used to feel better when I was a kid anytime she’d smile at me. I called it her mom magic. I’m not sure, before tonight, when I noticed the last time she smiled.

  I smile back at her and then I do the dishes.

  Knowing I have the entire week until the weekend to enjoy her smiles has me feeling good about my decision to promise Kit a sleepover.

  Soon, Julian.

  Not today because Kit distracted me.

  Not tomorrow because he’s going to tell me what Eric said and then we have dinner with his parents.

  Not this weekend because I promised to sleep over at Kit’s and he promised to touch me.

  There’s always next week.

  Jasper

  Kit loves enamel pins and helping friends.

  These are things I’ve learned this week.

  Tuesday, he gave me a pin with a bone that said, “I find this humerus.”