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“You think? Now pull harder.” He tries to no avail.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Lia. All of this was to protect you, not get you sucked in.”
“You keep saying that.” While saying nothing at all. “Listen, I’ve accepted my fate. Clearly this…” I clear my throat, gearing myself up to raise my voice about five octaves so whoever is playing these games can hear me loud and clear. “…good-for-nothing mamabicho wants me stuck here like the fucking douchelord they are but…” Another pause, this time to compose myself, and sweeten up my voice a bit to direct the rest to Rennix. “…wants me here with you.” Is that such a bad thing? “There’s not much we can do. The least you can do is tell me the truth.”
Just like that, the force on my limbs breaks. Looks like said entity has a degradation kink. Good to know.
“If I could, I would. Nothing is that easy.”
“You’re lucky, you know that?”
His brows lift in curious amusement.
“Being cryptic and vague oddly suits you.” Annoying as it may be.
I can tell by the blank expression on his face he’s not following.
“Must I spell it out for you?” I sigh, growing exasperated.
“Please.”
“This whole glow-up you’ve got going on. It works.” Really fucking well. “And the cryptic and vague way you’re talking, I don’t know, I guess it just adds to it. That’s all.”
My cheeks…why do they feel warm?
Seriously they are fucking scorching.
Now, while I probably look as mortified as I feel, Rennix looks the exact opposite.
Confidence rolls over his shoulders, his posture more pronounced, as is the way his broad shoulders test the barriers of his shirt.
He looks so hot. It’s not fair.
“Are you trying to say you like the way I look?”
Yes.
“Uh, no.”
“Are you sure about that?”
No.
“Yes.”
He breaks eye contact, drawing all his attention on the knuckle he’s about to crack. “You know, it’s okay to tell me how you feel. I’ve waited longer than you know for you to tell me something that would make me think what I’ve felt isn’t one-sided.”
Ordinarily I’m not this bashful about when I’m attracted to someone. But that’s the thing, Rennix isn’t just someone and this isn’t just attraction. It’s the culmination of years of friendship and having a bond that feels too intense to put into words. There’s so much I want to tell him. Even more I need him to say, but I’m afraid of putting my foot in my mouth like I have a habit of doing. Maybe staying silent will be better for both of us.
Head still hung low, he breaks the momentary silence. “When I agreed to all this, I didn’t realize how much I’d lose. I don’t think anyone prepares you for that when blood is on the line.” Blood? What is he talking about? As long as I’ve known him, he’s been terrified of needles. I mean, maybe that changed considering the tattoos he has, although tattoo needle pain and the pain that comes from getting blood drawn are two very different sensations. But blood and Rennix? That makes no sense. Consider me intrigued. “But I don’t remember there being any rule against me telling you how much I’ve missed you. Or how beautiful I’ve always thought you are. And funny. And smart. So fucking smart. And…”
This is a cruel joke. Here Rennix is telling me what I’ve waited for what has felt like a lifetime to hear, and my attention is drifting. Not because I don’t want to hear it or because that’s what my attention has a tendency of doing. It’s because the computer—my old strawberry iMac—is on…my old MySpace account.
As Rennix continues to profess his feelings, the screen goes haywire. Scrolling and recalibrating on its own, flashing bright streams of light from the screen. It keeps going until it’s managed to dredge up what appears to be an archive of over-the-top, dramatic-as-fuck, trying-to-be-cryptic-but-failing-miserable-at-it statuses. The more my eyes scan the screen I realize every status I vaguely posted about Rennix has been collected.
I jolt up, bear-hugging the screen to create a barricade.
Rennix places a hand on my back, rubbing it. “What’s wrong? Did I scare you off? Fuck, I’m sorry. I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I…”
