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“Still working on those comics?” I ask him like I don´t meant it, raising an eyebrow as I usually do when I’m trying to look bored as fuck. It’s late and it’s cold, shivers building up my spine like they were trying to tell me something I didn’t know that day.
He lifts his golden head slightly, placing his goddamn so-well organized papers on top of the desk so carefully I can tell he is aiming to keep them in order.
Justin is such a free spirit that I sometimes forget how meticulous he is, especially about his job. Maybe that’s what I like about him, among others as dick-sucking and nice hot chocolate making. I do think that control and wildness can get along just fine, if not even balance each other like a fucking self-help book would so lamely imply. But Justin is not controlling and perhaps I should just accept the fact he’s not a freak like me and move on even if I feel stuck at nowhere.
“Yeah, sometimes we tend to keep working on unfinished things. You know, just for the fun.” His tone says more than I would like to hear, but I fucking smile anyway making sure he gets the message not to mess with me today.
But is Justin and I had known the little shit for so long that I knew what to expect from him.
“You look hot.” He says in that fucking sweet voice that makes me wanna puke out of love. And maybe that’s how I’m going to die someday. His playful yet tender eyes are staring at me and I don’t know what to do until I do.
“I see you’re trying out some pretty nasty shit, sunshine.” I take some of his papers and inhale the annoyed sound I get in return from messing his so precious papers up. “Feeling inspired?”
“I was.” He leans back the chair, stretching that thigh little body I would love to mouth all over if he weren’t taking my breath way just by looking at me like I was somehow made out of gold. Justin does that a lot. The looking up thing. Makes me proud on how I can so effortless build up such walls of coolness. I used to think that people have always felt a lot, gave feelings too much power over their actions that they were just so mesmerized when someone didn’t. Now, after I met Justin and my life went to hell on the process, I think they are just curious about how can I possibly live with myself?
“You’re such an asshole.” He laughs and his fingers start traveling up my expensive shirt like it was nothing.
“You need seriously to get over me and all I stand for.” I didn’t meant to say that but I’m not usually reckless so I take I did meant it. “Otherwise, fucking Deb will come for me with a hammer.
“Tried that.” He said cheerfully, beautiful fucking smile hanging on his adorable face.
“Did you try coming for me with a hammer?” I snorted, feeling proud. “Oh, wait. You did. Last night.”
“I tried to get over you.” He said with huge eyes, his soul at display like always, discomfort subtly settling over my stomach every time he would do that.
“I know you did, kid. I don’t blame you.” I blamed me but fuck If I was going to say that out loud.
“Do you want to go out?” He asked, like he knew that that was what I wanted. Fucking selfless pathetic kid he was.
“I want to go out alone.” I said rubbing my nose with despair.
“Oh.” He said. Just that. Oh. Like it was news to him.
“I guess I can go home.” He got up quickly; starting to gather all his paper like his life depended on it. It kinda did.
I rolled my eyes out of desperation. “By alone I meant without fucking Michael, Ted and the rest of the people I can only half stand.”
“Does that include me?” He asked in such a small, unsure voice that I couldn’t help but take him in my arms.
“You I can almost fully stand. You know, when you’re not being a smartass.” When Justin was a smartass, he would shut me up and I didn’t like that one bit.
“I think you should see a shrink.” He pressed his blond head in my chest.
“Shut up.” That was what I meant. Smartass.
I’m going to let him go. I just don’t know when.