I woke up with a trail of drool coming from the side of my mouth. I blinked drowsily and realised my pillow was warm and hard. I was laying on Mark's thigh. I yawned and slowly pushed myself up off of him. I looked around at the mess from the past two days. There was cold pizza from last night, various potato chip and corn chip bags, most empty, and half a dozen soda pop cans littering the tables.
The man himself was in a pair of sweats and the shadow on his jaws was hella sexy. We had just kicked back and ignored the world for a couple of days so he could collect himself. He was doing much better, all things considered. At the very least he had decided what he was going to do. He was filing for divorce. I couldn't blame him. Her blatant disregard for their marriage was ridiculous.
Part of me was actually happy about it. The other part of me was mired in guilt for feeling that way. I couldn't help the desire to go after him full throttle, but I knew better than to strike while I could still be considered the rebound guy. Plus, I had school to think about. My debit card also hadn't shown up yet, so I had needed Mark to buy groceries for me again. And the junk food we ate of course.
"I think something died in my mouth." I heard him mutter. I nodded in agreement. I was slowly waking up and noticing that more than just my brain was now awake. Dammit. I smelled like him. This was not going away any time soon. I put a throw pillow over my lap, curling around it tiredly to hide the real reason I was clutching it.
"Do I have to wake up?" I muttered. He laughed and sauntered off to the bathroom. I heard the sink and toilet run. Then I heard the shower going. I closed my eyes at the torture. My hard on had been going down slowly, now it was not. I refused to go as low as rubbing one out while he was in there. Especially since that was all I was thinking about.
His naked body under the hot water. Rubbing with spicy soap, grinning with that heart-wrenchingly handsome face of his. Oh goodness. I hobbled off the couch to my room and closed the door quietly behind me. I laid back on my bed, staring at my tent with a betrayed look. I laid back and tried to think about my mother. That should work.
At this rate I was going to have perpetual blue balls again. The place wasn't small, but I wouldn't be able to avoid running into him daily. I had to be patient. I had more important things to think about. If it was meant to happen, it would. It was a matter of timing, and this was the wrong timing. Slowly but surely I talked my body out of doing what it was doing.
"Hey Greg?" I heard Mark call out to me later.
"Yeah what's up?" I replied, getting up to open my door and watching him coming out of his room fully dressed. His face was shaved and he looked ready for work. He also looked more awake and alive than I had seen him in two days. That was a relief.
"I have to go take care of some things. I should be back for dinner though. Did you want anything in particular? I can get take out or make something when I get back...?" He waited expectantly for my reply. I smiled companionably and shrugged.
"Whatever you want is fine. I am not very picky. I can't be since I rely on others for food." I grinned mischievously and he tousled my hair as he chuckled.
"Alright. See you later then." He turned and left. I stood watching him go. I will admit I was slightly disappointed to see him go, and my ego took a hit on how he treated me when he left. Did that mean he thought of me as a kid? Did other adults usually do that sort of thing to one another? I was probably overthinking things, but hey I had time for that.
I played on my phone for an hour or two, talked to my friends about what they were doing, and then fell back on my old time killer... video games. I was shooting aliens when Mark came home. He looked tired again and had two boxes of things with him. I paused the game to come help him with them. He smiled gratefully as he took off his shoes and I put the boxes in his bedroom for later.
"Hey, how does tuna casserole sound?" He called out from the kitchen. I walked in to see him rolling up his sleeves with an apron over his nice shirt and slacks.
"Sounds like dinner." I pertly replied. He grinned and had me wash some vegetables for him in the sink. It was interesting to see how he chopped them without cutting his fingers off. He did a couple things at the same time to prepare the dish. Drain the tuna, cook the rice, chop the veggies, and preheat the oven. It was like an elaborate dance, and he didn't use a recipe book.
When the food was put together in the dish and placed in the oven, I got out all the utensils, plates and glasses. I had them all in place with the napkins, so when Mark came back in a set of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt it was all ready to go for dinner. The smell coming from the stove was simply heavenly too. I was drooling and asked him a few times if it was ready yet. He just gave me a look.
When the buzzer went off I practically jumped into my seat and grabbed my fork. He dished the casserole out onto my plate with an exasperated smile and warned me that it was hot. I didn't listen of course. I took a quick forkful and then spent the next minute gasping and panting around the bite in an effort to actually eat it.
"Are you okay?" He was staring at me like I was crazy again. I coughed and gave a thumbs up.
"This is delicious. The best tuna casserole ever. I swear." I managed to gasp out as I blew on another bite and shoved it in. He laughed at me and shook his head as he slowly ate his own.
"I don't even know how you can taste it." He mumbled. I moaned around another bite. It really was heavenly. Just the right amount of mushiness and crunch. There was creaminess and saltiness to it that was unexpectedly good. I couldn't help myself and went for seconds before he was even finished his first helping.
I finished that too and sat moaning on the stool because I ate too much, too fast. He rolled his eyes at me and asked me to take care of the dishes. I did. He had cooked after all, so it was only fair. I walked over to the sink and burped loudly. He stopped at the door and raised a brow at me.
"What? You are an amazing cook. Will you marry me?" I smirked and glanced over at his pursed lips. That look said it all. "No? Too soon?"
"Way too soon." Was all he said before leaving the room. I shrugged and sang to myself as I finished the dishes.
"I wait for you there, like a stone... I wait for you there, aloooone. Hmm, hmm, hmm." I heard the television turn on to the news and immersed myself in my chores. Until I heard him swearing, then I made my way out of the kitchen and into the living room area to see what was going on. There was my mother on the screen, with a guy younger than Mark on her arm and a big smile.
The headline was 'Where is husband number four?' They didn't even have the courtesy to use his name. She was attending a benefit with a boy who couldn't be much older than me. I thought it was gross. She could have at least waited until the divorce papers were signed before flaunting her latest catch. Not that he would probably last very long.
"That him?" I muttered. His mouth twisted in a mockery of a smile and he nodded faintly. "He looks like he is playing dress up from his father's wardrobe." I turned my back on it and went back to the kitchen to finish my chores. "Turn that crap off! You shouldn't be watching news, you should be watching something mindless and relaxing." I hollered the last bit.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the channel flip. The loud sound of racing cars came from the living room now and I shrugged internally. It was better than celebrity news. I wandered in after I was done and Mark was looking through the television. He blinked and looked up at me, seeming to come back to himself.
"You okay?" I asked him gently. He shrugged.
"I guess." He tried for a smile, but I could see it was forced.
"It's okay if you aren't you know. You don't have to smile if you don't feel like it." I picked at the edge of a pillow and glanced at him. The smile slipped off, but he didn't look any less handsome for it. He just looked how he probably felt. Sad.
YOU ARE READING
My mother never could keep to one man. It wasn't like I went out of my way to fall in love. She was just blind, and he was just... perfect. It was impossible not to fall in love with my stepfather. The real question was... Did he love me?