A Hotter Touch, A Better F... Than Any Girl You'll Ever Meet

Chapter 14

And he went down for the count.

Not that I was really focused on him anymore.

Brendon had fallen to the floor and was lying it pretty much a bundle, whimpering and crying. Looked like it was my turn to be the strong one again.

"Nothing happened, right?" I muttered, knowing I'd kill the man if anything had.

"No," he whispered. "But it was too close."

I nodded and pulled his boxers back up around his waist, careful not to touch anything. Then I found his pants a few feet away, somehow got him to his feet and helped him put them on, doing the zipper for him, buttoning and finally buckling his belt. Then I gathered him in my arms and held him close as sobs shook through his body.

I would've carried him back to the bus, but I knew very well that I wasn't strong enough to carry Brendon the way he did me. Especially since he had started gaining weight again, getting closer to his original, healthy weight. No, he was going to have to walk on his own.

My phone rang.

I picked it out of my pocket with a groan. "Yes?"

"Are you coming or what?" Matt asked aggravatedly from the other end of the connection.

I sighed. "No, I can't make it tonight, sorry."

"That's alright. Perhaps I'll get to talk with other guys aside from you for once," he replied. I could practically hear the smile in his voice.

I couldn't find it in myself to laugh. "Have fun," I said. "Talk to you tomorrow."

"Later," he answered and cut the connection.

I focused back on Brendon whose face was in my chest while his arms clutched my waist desperately. "We need to get out of here," I muttered, running a hand through his hair in what I believed was a soothing motion.

"Yeah," he agreed, making no move to get up.

I so should've asked Matt to come help. He'd have been able to carry Brendon with one fucking arm.

I slowly, gently eased his arms off me and got to my feet, holding a hand out for him to take.

He did, allowing me to pull him into a standing position, although it was with a struggle.

Perhaps I should start working out?

He never let go of my hand, intertwined our fingers instead as we headed out. And I allowed him the contact. He must've been needing it.

I narrowly managed to remember the cigarettes I'd come for as we passed them.

I got him dragged back onto our bus without much incident, but once there he broke down again, clutching me in a death-grip, his face in the crook of my neck.

I really have no idea how long we sat there, but when he finally let go, the shoulder of my hoodie was soaked and my left arm was asleep. I seriously couldn't feel it at all. Well, I guess 'let go' might be exaggerating. He let go of me with one arm, the other still around my neck just as mine was still around his middle. And his head was still resting against my shoulder. At least he wasn't really crying anymore, just sniffing a bit and occasionally expelling a few tears.

"I'm so stupid," he muttered.

"No you're not," I assured him.

"Then why is it that everyone can lie to me?"

I didn't answer. I'm pretty sure he wasn't accusing me of anything right at that moment, but my conscience was still acting up at it.

"I've been hanging out with him a lot the last week or so," he told me after a while. "He said he was into guys and asked if I wanted to you know, talk, hang out, all that. It's been fine, I just wanted to forget that I have any feelings for you that are more than friendly. And, you know, when he kissed me I came so close to being able to just shut you out of my mind. So I kept hanging around with him and kissing and making out, but I didn't want it to go any further." He paused a bit. "He did, though." With that a couple of new sobs racked through him and I cradled him close again.