Page 12 of Only You
TEN
I can’t believe I almost messed this up again. I could feel him starting to pull away at the batting cages today when I brought up dating. But thankfully, for whatever reason, he didn’t push me away.
I know I need to tread lightly, but I can’t seem to help being sort of obsessed with him not ever finding love. Not that I want anyone else putting their hands on him, but still. The thought of Remy not dating, not having romance, it’s too much for me to bear.
But as I lie here on the couch with my arm wrapped around him and him snuggled into me as we watch a baking show, all I feel is stark fear of losing this. So I know I need to keep my mouth shut. Keep my questions about why he doesn’t date to myself.
Because it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want to talk about it. But as long as he’s still here—still cuddling with me—shouting at the television because one of the competition’s chefs is doing it wrong—well, I’ll be okay.
“I can’t believe he doesn’t know how to make a decent meringue. I mean, what is this? Rookies? I don’t think so. That looks terrible,” Remy says emphatically as he motions toward the television.
He really gets into baking, and I think it’s fucking adorable. “I know, right?” I agree with him, even though I think it actually looks pretty good, if I’m being honest. But I’m no expert, and I’ll trust Remy on this.
His head swivels in my direction, his cheeks a little pink. “Sorry. I get a little heated.”
“Well, pastries are your specialty,” I tease and hug his body to mine a little closer, hoping I’m not crossing a line. But I trust Remy to tell me if I am. He only seems to snuggle closer to me, but he’s not watching the television anymore. He’s looking at me.
“That’s true,” he says, all cocky and shit. I like this side of him—though I really like every side of Remy. Always have.
“Someday, I’m going to show up Phillip and his little baking skills.”
He grins at that, but then his look turns deadly serious, and he’s squirming out of my arms, hopping up off the couch and reaching out for me. “Oh yeah. I owe you a lesson.”
“Now?” I ask, whining just a little bit but still taking his much smaller hand in mine.
“Yes. Now,” he says, tugging on me, and I reluctantly lift my body off the couch.
“But I was comfy.”
He only laughs and pulls me into the kitchen. “We’ll watch more TV after we bake a pie.”
He’s downright jovial now, and I find myself watching him, feeling this strange fluttery sort of heat low in my belly. I don’t understand what’s going on with me lately. Not at all. And honestly, I’ve never really been one to question much.
I like just going with the flow because I never could really count on anything. Plans never worked out. Dreaming felt stupid because they never came true. But this thing with Remy—something I can only describe as pure and honest attraction—it has me thinking and questioning nonstop.
I’ve never been attracted to a guy in my life. That was true when I told Kellan the same thing, but I know, day by day and night by night, it has to be what I’m feeling when I look at Remy.
He gathers everything and then looks over at me with that bright smile as I stand there struck stupid. “Don’t just watch.” He grins. “Do.”
My feet carry me to him, that hot feeling only growing as I make my way to stand before him, looking into his eyes.
The playful smirk he was wearing just a moment ago slowly fades as he watches me with curiosity and maybe some nerves.
I can’t stop staring at his lips—they’re red and kind of puffy. Really damn pretty.
I swallow the lump in my throat, unable to move as I realize I want to know what they taste like. And it doesn’t matter that Remy is a man and I’ve never been interested in men that way before.
To me, he’s just Remy.
And I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone this badly in my life.
I lick my dry lips, thinking about what his must feel like, and before I know it, I’m leaning down and into him.
My hand moves to the back of his head, sweeping through his soft hair, and I hear him let out a stunned little whimper as I lean into him more.
But just before our lips meet, I feel his hand firmly on my chest, and he’s pushing back just ever so slightly—but enough for me to get the hint and pull back.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think you were about to kiss me,” he says softly, his eyes wide as he looks up at me.
“I was,” I answer honestly. “You don’t want me to?” I’m not completely dense. I know just because Remy is gay doesn’t mean he’s attracted to me. He could very well just want to keep this whole thing platonic.
“I...” he starts but then gives a slight shake of his head. I’m worried he’s going to say no, and I’m going to feel like a fool. So I drop my hand from his hair and take another step back before he says more. “Aren’t you straight?”
Okay, so that’s not a no. Or he’s not attracted to me.
“I’m not really worried about being straight or not, Remy,” I say, and it’s taking everything in me not to move closer to him.
To not touch him until I have his absolute consent because that means everything to me, and I know it means everything to him too. “I just know I want to kiss you.”
He shakes his head again, but this time he looks a little more determined, and I try not to be too crushed by it. “I can’t.”
“You don’t see me that way?” I try to keep my voice neutral, but inside I can’t deny I feel devastated. It’s odd—feeling that way when I only just realized I want this. Now it’s like this thing living deep inside me. This obsession.
Of course, I won’t act on it. He doesn’t want me like that. That’s perfectly okay. I’ll take anything I can get with him. But there is the thought that maybe his feelings toward me will grow someday if I’m patient.
But all hope is renewed when Remy answers, “It’s not that. Of course I see you that way. Look at you.” His hand sweeps the air in front of me along the length of my body. “How could I not see you that way? You’re gorgeous.”
“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” I say with total honesty.
I may have never really been attracted to a male before, but Remy seems to be the exception to everything.
I do find him absolutely beautiful. Even more so than anyone I’ve ever been attracted to.
I realize in that moment that it really doesn’t matter to me that he’s a guy.
The physical part may have a learning curve here and there with him, but man, do I want to learn.
I take a step into him, but I’m careful to not touch him.
“So then why don’t you want me to kiss you? ”
“I don’t kiss.”
“What?” I stare at him in utter shock. “Like ever?”
“Never,” he says firmly.
“Oh.” I know it’s not an intelligent response, but I don’t really know what to do with that information. “So you don’t kiss?”
He looks slightly amused with me now, which I guess is better than the alternative of him thinking I’m an idiot for asking the same question over and over. “No.”
“Oh,” I say again dumbly.
“Stop saying oh ,” he says, his smile growing a little larger, but he does look kind of sad too as he waits for me to process the information.
“Sorry,” I say genuinely. “But you hook up.”
“I do, but that’s just sex. I don’t kiss. I keep it casual, Tatum. I have to.” He’s looking at me like he needs me to just understand. To not push him. And I know that’s what I have to do, but my mind is reeling.
Remy doesn’t kiss. He doesn’t want to ever be in a relationship. I know it has to do with what happened to him when we were young. The thing I allowed to push us apart because I begged him to tell me what happened.
Hoping I could make it better, like I was some sort of superhero or something.
What he needs from me is understanding of his boundaries, even if it means I won’t ever get to taste his sweet lips. I’ll never know what it’s like to kiss him and be with him.
Which I didn’t even realize I wanted until this moment.
It feels like a loss, even though he’s right here with me.
“I understand,” I say, even though I’m not sure I do. Remy deserves the world, and he sure looks like he wanted to kiss me—but he won’t let himself.
So, I guess we’ll just never know what a kiss between us could be. Or anything else. And I just have to figure out a way to be okay with that.