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    Andr0gene
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The House Always Wins - 10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Dear diary,

I have to admit something: I basically fled the room tonight. Why, do you ask? Weeeeeeeelll...we had to put on our first act today, and I think I screwed it up. Oh, don't worry, Olivia didn't suspect a thing, at least I don't think she did, but it was a little forced on my part.

Michael apologized for it, and was kind enough to explain a few things to me I just haven't seen in the life I've lived so far.

He explained to me what couples do in a relationship, and since I haven't really been in one, I had no clue. I mean, my parents - Mom and my step-dad - weren't very...touchy-feely, you know? I never saw them behave the way Michael expects me to. And when you're over at a friends' house, their parents didn't tend to get physical with strangers around. Chick flicks are not my style so that act was completely new to me.

I guess we learn that along the way, as we grow up, but I'm supposed to be all grown up already; to be the object of affection, so to speak, and have an object for myself to show affection to, as well; fake affection, going both ways. It's weird.

But it's also exciting.

**********

Closing the diary, I looked around for a place to hide it. I ended up hiding it under the pile of new dress shirts we had bought that morning. I had spent an hour, after leaving the living room, clipping off the labels and putting my new stuff away, storing the boxes. I had chosen a part of the ‘casual' walk in closet that wasn't already occupied by the massive amount of clothing Michael had; the other closet was already filled to the brim, which left me the back end of this one.

I looked at my watch, another purchase of this morning, and saw that 2am was rapidly approaching. Any minute now, Michael was going to come in here and we'd have to sleep...there. Eying the bed, I felt nervous. The next few weeks, I'd have to sleep there. Next to him.

As if on cue, the bedroom door softly opened and Michael came in, silent as a thief, but when he noticed I wasn't in bed, he looked around, and closed the door with a not so silent click.

"Why aren't you in bed?" he asked, looking at his watch, "it's almost 2am."

"Who are you, my dad now?" I replied, a little edgy.

"No, I just thought you'd be asleep by now. There's no need for you to get defensive." He started to unbutton his shirt, walking over to ‘his' closet. In my mind, it was easier to refer to them as ‘his' and ‘mine'.

He disappeared, right at the moment he shrugged his shirt off of his shoulders, and my nervousness rose to its peak at that point: somewhere in the next few minutes, I'd have to also start getting undressed. I looked around for something to keep me busy, to drag it out a bit longer. But I was done unpacking, so unless I pulled everything off the hangers or shelves again, I'd already arrived at that moment. I dejectedly pulled cashmere over my head and unbuttoned my jeans, hanging both items over the back of a chair, taking my sweet time. I heard water running in the bathroom. It stopped a moment later.

My socks followed, and then I was out of excuses. I hesitantly walked out, flicking off the closet light, dressed only in my white boxer briefs, and walked over to the bathroom, to brush my teeth. When I was done, I stalled for a few minutes, and then gathered the courage to also turn in for the night.

Michael was already in bed, zapping the channels.

"So...how are we going to do this, then?" I asked, my voice breaking up.

He looked sideways and for a moment, his eyes traveled from my face to my chest and down. It was very quick, only a second or two, but it was enough to make me even more conscious about myself.

He picked up the covers and pulled them back, revealing that he was also only wearing black boxers, the CK cotton knit ones. I owned a pair myself but didn't like them; my whole business dangling free wasn't something I liked.

"Get in. Lie down. Sleep. Hardly a difficult task now, is it?" he replied, a bit sharply.

I ascended the three steps leading up to the bed and sat down with my back to him, and then lay down as close to the edge as possible.

"Night," I said softly, flicking off the lamp on my side.

He growled softly; it sounded impatient.

"Do you always lie in bed that way, teetering on the edge? Get in here, Jason. I won't bite."

I scooted toward him a bit more so I had enough room, and I could feel the warmth of his body radiating close to my back. Jesus, he was a millionaire; did he have to have a small bed like this? Why not a king-size bed, where you'd need phones and binoculars to communicate?

I tried to get to sleep, but the side I was on, my left, is the side I never sleep on; I sleep on my right, or on my stomach, mostly. So after about half an hour, I still wasn't asleep, and coughed softly, every now and then. Behind me, Michael turned a few times and at long last sighed.

"Are you still awake?" he asked, whispering.

"Yes."

"This is ridiculous," he continued whispering, "I can't spend the next month sleeping like this. I need my sleep."

"I'm sorry, I...I can't sleep on my left side," I whispered.

He remained quiet for a few seconds.

"Hmm, I sleep on my left but this is my side. Okay, we can solve that easily; turn over."

I turned onto my back and then on to my right side, facing him.

"Better?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'm going to shove my arm under your pillow, now, so don't freak out." I lifted my head a bit, to give him room and once he was done, he gave a satisfied sigh. "Much better. Think you can sleep now?"

"Yes." The smell of toothpaste entered my nostrils as he spoke, his mouth somewhere near my forehead.

"Good, try to sleep. We'll get used to it."

I closed my eyes and listened. It didn't take him all that long to get to sleep; within five minutes, his breathing leveled off into a steady rhythm and listening to it helped somehow; I fell into a dreamless sleep shortly after.

Edited; made some minor corrections.
andr0gene 2004-Present
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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