The Not-Outcast by Tijan

49

Cheyenne

Iwoke to Cut carrying me to his vehicle.

He was putting me inside the front seat when I started to stir.

“Go to sleep. I called and got directions on how to close up, and Reba is keeping your car at her place. I’ll give you a ride back in the morning, or whenever you need it.”

Oh.

I loved him.

Really, truly.

And I went right back to sleep.

* * *

“She’s sleeping,so I don’t think we’ll be coming tonight.”

No.

I heard Cut, and I didn’t remember what he was talking about or who he was talking about, but I didn’t want him to cancel anything on my behalf.

I was also seriously glad we were in my apartment. That meant no Chad, but also, my bed, my sheets, my pillows, mine, mine, mine. I did like his place, too. He had a bigger bed. More wrestling area.

I wasn’t feeling up to wrestling right now, though.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to watch here.” A pause. “No, it’s good. She needed the sleep. Truth told, I need it, too.”

He hung up after that, and it was starting to come back to me.

I went in reverse.

He locked up for me.

He put me in his vehicle.

He held me, rubbing my face, and I fell asleep.

He and Hendrix had been at Come Our Way.

Me cutting vegetables all day.

Me freaking out.

Me forgetting my meds.

And I remembered that we were supposed to go to Hendrix’s tonight.

My limbs felt like cement was in them, but I called on the force of my racing mind and summoned enough energy to sit upright. Then, I rolled.

Then, I staggered to the bathroom.

Then, I used the bathroom.

Then, I brushed my teeth.

Then, I felt a bit more presentable.

Cut was on the couch with a beer in hand when I came out, my blanket was pulled around me because I was that kind of girl tonight.

“Morning.”

“Har, har.”

He laughed, lifting up a pillow beside him, but nope. I had worked on my insecurity and I went and curled in his lap. I no longer had any shame. I was going to embrace this relationship status we had, whatever it was.

He didn’t seem to mind. His arm curled around me, and he lifted me to his other leg so my back was against the couch’s armrest. My feet were on the cushions beside him, and as he picked up the remote, turning it to one of the NHL games that was on, I tipped back to watch him.

Seriously. So hot.

Those chiseled cheekbones. Lips that seemed perfect and wanted me to touch them.

He could scowl and my pants would fall off.

I laughed a little at that last one.

“What are you thinking?”

“You’re so handsome. You’re like the Beauty to my yeast infection.”

He’d been about to take a sip of beer, but stopped almost mid-pour. He swung big eyes toward me. “What?”

I laughed. “I’m joking.” A pause. “Not really.” But I reached up and grabbed his chin and shook it gently. Playfully. “You’re so pretty. You’re so pretty that if you were a unicorn, you’d shit glitter.”

He frowned. “Thank you?”

I was just getting started.

“You’re so pretty that if aliens ever invaded, they’d take one look at you and declare you their cult leader.”

He groaned. “That’s a bad one.”

Just getting started.

“You’re so pretty that the blind guy at Come Our Way asked for your digits.”

“Stop.”

“You’re so pretty that I look at you and poof, my brain short-circuits.” I patted the top of my head. “Do you see the steam?”

He laughed, then shook his head. “You wake up funny like this all the time?”

“Only when I’m around someone as beautiful as you.”

He was shaking his head again. “Keep going with the lines and I’ll start saying ’em back. You want that?” His arms tightened.

I froze, but my heart started pounding.

Guys hit on me a lot. Looks wise, I knew I was the ‘hang ten’, but anything past that and fuck no. I was the shark-infested waves. But no. He wasn’t going to scare me that way.

I sat up on my knees, staring down at him. “I can quote you line by line from Night at the Roxbury.”

“Like that scares me.”

“That’s movie one. Anchorman is next.”

“Yeah? Well, here’s my pickup line.” He grabbed me, but I expected him to roll me on my back and him on top. He didn’t. Cut was a lot more direct and simpler than me, and I was having flashbacks to the first night I went home with him because he merely anchored me on his lap. One of his hands slipped inside my pants, my underwear, and he had two fingers inside of me in two seconds.

I died.

He started thrusting.

I was gone.

He won.

“How’s that?”

I groaned, my eyes rolling backwards as his fingers were already doing magical things. “You’re the alien god.”

“Damn straight I’m the alien god.”

Then, he really got busy, and I ceased being able to think or talk for the next hour.