Page 13

Chapter Thirteen

Gabriel

One month down, and two to go. Things have been going pretty well. Storm still has his rough days, and there are plenty of things he needs to work on, but he’s trying.

It’s Monday, which means it’s omelet day. It’s not his favorite, but he likes it better than Thursday, which is oatmeal day. I’ve told him he can make his own breakfast, or sleep in like he used to, but he’s adamant about having breakfast with me each morning, especially the mornings I go off to work. I’ve come to expect it now, and dare I say enjoy it? The company is nice. It’s not a huge house, but it’s big enough to feel lonely in when you’re the only one here.

I get out of bed to go to the bathroom, but when I put my hand on the knob to open the door, I hear the water running from the shower… and something else too.

Moaning. Heavy breathing. Grunts.

My heart pounds, my hand stuck to the knob like it was covered in quick-drying super glue. My ears perk up, homing in on the sounds on the other side of the door. Wet slapping sounds.

He’s doing it again.

I haven’t caught him touching himself since that first time, even though I’ve caught him naked too many times. I should be disgusted by what he’s doing now. It’s such a dirty thing to do. Yet… I can’t move. I can’t pull away. I can’t go back to my room and forget this happened. My feet stay planted right here and I press my ear to the door to hear better. Swallowing hard, I focus everything on listening.

More grunting. Breathing gets heavier. Moans. So many low moans. I envision the way his hand was wrapped around himself when he was on his bed all those weeks ago. The way his cum spurted out of his dick like a volcano. Is that normal?

I wouldn’t know. I attempted touching myself one time when I was a teenager. One time , and one time only. Getting caught by my mother was traumatic enough, never mind the way she scolded me for it, and then reminded for months to never do it again. It was enough to put in my head that I, under no circumstances, do that. It’s dirty. Something that should be saved for your wife for the sole purpose of reproducing. And it makes a damn mess.

But now that I think about it, as I picture those white globs of cum on Storm’s chest as he finished, it doesn’t feel dirty. It didn’t look dirty. Sure, there was a mess, but even the times I’ve had to clean myself, it wasn’t difficult to do. Not like cleaning spilled syrup or tomato sauce. Now that is a pain to clean up. But cum? It’s not a lot of trouble.

I glance down at the bulge in my pajama pants and feel nothing but confusion. If this is only meant for a wife to make children with, why is it happening now?

I’m not so na?ve or sheltered to think people don’t have premarital sex or same-sex sex. I know they do, and if that’s what they want to do with their lives, then they can. I have nothing against any of it, it’s just, for me… I don’t know anymore.

For so long I was sure I knew what I wanted in life and how my life was meant to be, but little things that Storm does have me questioning everything. Wondering if I’m living my life wrong. If my mother lied to me for her own sanity. Did my brothers save all of their cum for their wives, or were they just better at hiding what they were doing?

Why, after all these years, did I continue to listen to my mother and not touch myself? I don’t live there any longer. It’s doubtful I will ever have a wife, so… what if I did it just once?

I slide my free hand over the bulge, hesitating before grabbing onto my erection. I swallow hard, my heart thundering. My other hand is still holding onto the doorknob for dear life. What’s going to happen if I do this? No one is here to yell at me. My mother won’t know. And aside from that, I’m a grown man who can make his own decisions, right? Of course I am. Taking a deep breath, I squeeze. A whimper escapes my lips just as the shower shuts off and I jerk away from the door, hitting my knee on it so hard I yelp. I scurry back to my room and close the door, hoping like hell that Storm doesn’t realize I was standing there.

I pace my room, worried he’s going to find out I was listening to him like some kind of creep. Why did I do that? I would hate it if he did that to me. It’s weird! Not because he’s a guy, though that is new and freaking me out a little. It’s more to do with the fact that he in no way consented to me listening to him. I’m a terrible person. And the fact my dick is still hard and aching makes it so much worse. I couldn’t possibly touch myself now… I’m too paranoid!

“Gabriel?” I pause, turning toward the door when Storm’s voice sounds way too close. His gaze goes from my face, down to where my pants are tented. “Fuck,” he mutters, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I just wanted to let you know the bathroom is free.”

Now he’s the one who hurries off. I should be embarrassed by this whole thing, but all I am is mad.

“Next time knock before you come into my room!” I call as I rush to the bathroom.

“Door was open!” he calls back just as I shut and lock the bathroom door.

My bedroom door was open? I closed it. At least… I think I did. Did I forget because I was panicking? It’s possible. My head is never on right when I’m in panic mode. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe I… maybe I wanted him to come in?

I stand by Marta’s car, waiting for her to get out. She has an assigned spot, but I’m always here before she is, and I wait for her by it.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she says brightly. Always happy, always loud. She’s smiling wider than normal. Her lips are glossy and her eyes are surrounded in dark makeup. She always looks nice for work, but today is a little extra. Even her dark hair is straight and down, not pulled into a ponytail like usual.

“Morning,” I grumble back, tugging my messenger bag into place.

We head through the parking lot together, and I swipe my card when we get to the door.

“You’re quiet this morning,” she comments. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“You know there is only one side I get off on, Marta.”

“Wow, you’re extra grumpy today. What did Mr. Thunder Storm do?”

“He—Well, he…” I pause, sucking in a breath as I think of what to say. Storm did nothing. My bad mood has nothing to do with him and all to do with me. “He didn’t do anything.”

I stop after a few steps, when I realize Marta is no longer on the side of me. I look over my shoulder and find her standing in the hallway, gaping.

“Can you repeat that?” she says, placing her hand over her heart.

I sigh again. “He did nothing wrong.”

“No puedo creerlo!”

I hold her gaze, waiting for her to catch up. It takes her a minute, but finally she does. Then we continue on.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks once we reach the ER department.

“No,” I say honestly.

“I’m worried.”

“No reason. Just having a bad day.”

“But why, Gabriel? If Storm didn’t do anything... Is it your mother?”

I shake my head, pulling open the door and gesturing for Marta to go in ahead of me. “No, dinner went well yesterday, other than her pestering me over the date for her anniversary dinner.”

“I wish I could go,” she says, giving me a sad smile. “If I weren’t going to be across the country, you know I would.”

“I know.” It’s the truth. Marta is a good friend, and her husband is nice. Luiz is an ex-cop who was hurt on the job and no longer works. He wouldn’t care if she attended a family party with me, but I’m not so lucky. Of course her family vacation is the week of the dinner.

When we reach the hallway where we part ways, she puts her hand on my shoulder.

“Please call me if you need anything.”

“You’re working.”

“This should be when I tell you that you’re more important than work but—”

“Life or death, I got it. I’m not offended, and if I need you, I will call.”

Lingering for a moment, she finally drops her hand and heads down the hall. I turn and go the way I need to, pulling my bag off my shoulder when I get inside the lab.

“Morning, Gabriel!” Wendy says, spinning to face me in the chair. “Hey, there is a new horror movie coming out on Friday. Do you wanna come with me?”

“I don’t do horror movies,” I answer, putting my messenger bag down.

“Oh, that’s surprising.”

“Is it?” I ask, pulling my phone from the side pouch of my bag and putting it in my pocket.

“Yes,” she says. “We could see something else?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s an action—”

“Don’t do action.”

She frowns at me, carefully getting up from the chair. “Do you even like movies?”

“I like documentaries and dramas. Comedies sometimes. Nothing with gore.”

“You work with blood.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to see someone gutted and choked with their entrails.”

“Fair point.” She nods slowly. “How about dinner?”

I hold my breath, watching her for a long moment. She doesn’t give up. Maybe this is what I need? Maybe all this confusion with Storm, and all these inappropriate things I’ve been feeling, are just my body telling me something. It reacted similarly when I saw Tara come out of the shower, or accidentally walked in on her changing. It’s a natural human response. I am at the age of marriage and having children, and maybe that’s what my body is trying to tell me.

I can’t imagine marrying or having children with Wendy. She’s too… Well, she’s just too much like a cocker spaniel. My family would approve of nothing less than a poodle, which is exactly what Tara was. Perfect makeup, not a chipped nail or hair out of place.

“I’m sorry, but I’m seeing someone.”

Where the heck did that come from? I shake my head and take the seat she vacated.

“Oh, my—I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

“Why would you?” I say over my shoulder, giving her a smile.

Her smile is sad as she gathers her things. “Have a good shift.”

“You too.”

She hurries out the door.

You too? Did I really say that?

The first hour of work goes by quickly. There was an influx of patients who needed blood work, but now that it’s slowed, I find myself distracted, which isn’t like me. My hyper-fixations sometimes make focusing a struggle, but work usually overrides all hyper-fixations because it is the top hyper-fixation. But for some reason, I can’t stop thinking of Storm.

Staring at my phone, I wonder if I should… I pick up my phone and send him a text. Maybe this will ease my mind.

Hello.

After sending it, I put my phone down, but it buzzes immediately, so I pick it back up. It’ll be impossible to work if I don’t know what his response is.

Hello?

How are you?

Fine. How are you?

Is everything okay?

You never text me. Like ever.

Everything is fine. I was just wondering what you were doing.

The bubbles bounce then stop. Bounce again. Stop again. This goes on for a full minute, so I put my phone down and get up to check the samples that are waiting. When I return, I have another text.

Getting ready to visit my mother. Are you sure you’re okay?

You haven’t told me much about her.

Was I supposed to?

Well, no, but since we’re roommates, I just figured it made sense…

Please answer your phone.

I frown at my phone, not understanding that last text until it rings.

“Hello?”

“Gabe?”

“Gabriel,” I say.

“Yeah, definitely you. Are you okay? Are you being held against your will? Trying to send me a sign that you need help?”

“What? No. I’m fine.”

“You never text me. Ever. We don’t talk.”

“We talk plenty.”

“Maybe over meals, or if we’re in the same room, but…”

Oh, I understand what’s happening.

“I’m sorry. I must have misread our relationship. My fault. Have fun visiting your mother.”

I end the call and put my phone on silent, my cheeks burning.

I’m not sure why this bothers me so much. It’s embarrassment, for sure. I thought we were being friendly. I’ve been trying to be nicer to him and he’s been nice to me. We share meals together; we sit outside together, we talk. But I guess that’s only an inside the house thing, and nothing more. I get it. That’s fine.

In fact, now that I know there are boundaries, it will be easier to stop my mind from making up these weird scenarios. Like that maybe he was thinking about me while he was in the shower this morning.