Ex-Daredevil by Zoe Lee

Chapter 38

Eliott

Two days later, I was still on the couch, but now I was wearing my softest tee shirt, from Chicago Pride years ago, and my sad day pajama pants with cats holding wine glasses. A playlist of sad violin pieces was on and a plate of barely-eaten microwaved mozzarella sticks was on the coffee table, judging me for having even bought them.

Gavin hadn’t called me yet, but he’d texted a few times. The first time was to tell me that he’d gotten home safely, but he wasn’t up for talking. I’d cried a little and called Asher, who only made fun of me a little before he helped me brainstorm what to say to Gavin. Then yesterday I’d gotten four texts, about two hours apart, that had said each time, I’m still here, but I’m not ready to talk yet. Early this morning, I’d gotten one that just said, Soon, baby.

My cell was fused to my right hand, waiting for his next text but hoping for a call so I could hear his voice. While I waited, my camera roll was lit up with tiny thumbnails of picture after picture of Gavin or Gavin and me. It would have been pathetic, except I believed him when he texted soon, and I was focused on being ready to work this out.

But when it rang and vibrated, Gavin’s name and picture icon popping up at the top, I screeched like a spider had just landed on me. Laughing at myself, sounding rusty because I had barely been sleeping, I swiped fast to accept the call before it could go to voicemail.

“Gavin?” I croaked, knowing I sounded too hopeful and wrecked.

“Hey,” he said, breezy like nothing had happened. “Come unlock your door.”

I lurched to my feet, then forced myself to move at a sedate pace across the living room and down the stairs while I hummed and tried to be casual, patting my hair flat.

When I opened the door, the last thing I expected to find was Barley Finn holding a big neon blue plastic container with BEAUTY SHIT written on a wide piece of masking tape. Another man in his late forties, who I recognized from Barley’s party, was next to him, holding two wide, short neon green plastic containers with BIKING SHIT on its masking tape label. Five other people, all strangers, were behind them, all carrying plastic tubs in varying neon colors and dimensions with masking tape labels. COMIC BOOKS & LUBE. FLUFFY SWEATERS. SHIT FOR THE CLUB. GLASS GLASSES. FRAMED PICS.

There was no mistaking what this looked like, but I was sleep deprived and couldn’t make a connection between our fight and what was happening on my condo porch. I blinked and ran my tongue around my teeth, which I hadn’t brushed yet today.

“Morning,” Barley said with a grin. “Going to move over and let me by?”

Astonished, and kind of sure I was dreaming, I asked, “Uh, is Gavin here?”

“Hi, baby!” I heard him call from behind all these people. “Just let them by, please.”

Automatically, I acquiesced, stepping aside so that they were free to troop right inside, leaving Gavin in their wake. His hair was twisted in a knot high on top of his head and he was wearing a loose Barnyard top probably aimed at women and skin-tight running pants.

I rushed over to him, yelping wildly, “What the hell is happening?”

Carefree as you please, he bounced up and smacked a kiss to my lips.

“Gavin,” I growled in warning, my eyes narrowing down to slits, even though my heart was beating wildly with hopefulness.

“Hey, Eliott, can you open the garage too?” Barley called.

“Not now, Barley!” I yelled. Suddenly remembering that I was wearing the damn cat pajama pants, which undermined any authority I might’ve had, I sighed. “It’s 94657.”

“Wow, it’s so organized,” Barley complimented cheerfully.

But my focus was fully on Gavin, whose beautiful eyes flickered with uncertainty.

What had been a suspicion about what was happening firmed up into certainty, and I swallowed hard and asked him softly, “Sweetheart, what is all this? Are you really—?”

“I told you,” he said quietly, before he took hold of my hips and steered me across the driveway and around the side of the house. The noise from the people Gavin had brought over faded enough that I felt like we had a modicum of privacy. “I’m serious about you and I’m madly in love with you, and I promised you that I’d think of a way to prove it to you.”

Sunlight splashed across his face through the trees overhead. A butterfly flitted onto his topknot for a second. My eyes roved over his face hungrily.

“I’m in love with you too,” I finally answered, simply. “But you don’t have to prove it. That’s not what I…”

His gorgeous sly smile curved his lips slowly. “While we were at the Grand Canyon, we went whitewater rafting,” he began, still holding my hips firmly, “everyone was having a great time, but I got scared all of a sudden. I thought, if things get fucked up and I get hurt, then Eliott’s going to say I told you so and break up with me for putting him through that.”

I gnawed my bottom lip. “I will always say I told you so, given the opportunity.”

He smiled faintly. “Me too. And I know you wouldn’t break up with me unless I did something truly stupid and reckless, which I never have. Never will either.”

“I know. It’s never even crossed my mind to give you an ultimatum about choosing your daredevilry or me,” I replied, brushing away a few leaves squirrels had shaken down out of the tree onto his shoulder, taking a moment. “I… as long as I matter more—”

“You do!” he declared, his face going taut and fierce. “That’s what this is about, okay? I don’t usually have to explain myself to anyone and I trust my instincts, so I can’t always work out the details of how I get from a gut feeling to a decision. But I’m trying, so you’ll believe me when I say I’m madly in love with you, and I’m not going anywhere. I take this challenging, sexy thing between us very seriously. I love that we look mismatched from the outside, because it makes me feel like we share a secret world no one else can ever find.”

That made me smile, even as I got choked up. “Who would’ve guessed it?”

“Not me.” He laughed, then sobered and cupped my chin, stepping into me until every quick, hot exhale ghosted over my lips. “That’s how I should’ve started our conversation the other night, and then said I love you. But, Eliott, you want to see me take something seriously? Look at me—I take us seriously. So seriously, I realized how to prove it.”

“By moving in?” I asked, a tad more incredulity in my tone than I’d intended.

“Yeah.”

I raised my eyebrows and tried to work up some outrage, since normal couples didn’t move in together after one of them unilaterally made the decision and just barged in. But there wasn’t a single shred of me that was torn or against this. It actually, perversely, made me love him even more that he’d managed to prove his love and commitment while simultaneously challenging me to stop him from moving in, thereby rejecting him.

“Is your lease up at the end of the month?” I queried, keeping my expression and my tone cool and impeccable as if I were at work, because this was us, and I didn’t just roll over.

“I sublet illegally,” he tossed back.

“So you’re a fugitive and you think you can hide out in my very respectable condo?”

Humor, and not a little bit of relief, danced in his eyes. “It’s not respectable now. Now it’s full of economy size lube, sparkly princess crowns, my sheets with fat baby dragons all over them, and mugs that have the best gay sex phrases on all of Urban Dictionary on them.”

“Now that sounds like the opposite of serious,” I commented.

It must have come out with a little less levity than I’d intended, because his eyelashes dipped down before they swept up again. “I’ve been kicked aside a hundred times, but this is the first time I’m asking someone to accept me. This is the first time I’m putting myself in someone’s path and demanding an answer because I deserve it just as much as you do.”

I absorbed the hit, the rage on his behalf that people had treated him so poorly, or not even taken a second look at him to discover how amazing he was, and took a deep breath.

“Yes, you do deserve it, just as much as I do,” I murmured, cupping his neck. “This isn’t going to be flawless, baby; I’ve never been to your illegal sublet, so I have no idea if you’re a complete slob or if you eat disgusting, cardboard frozen meals. We’ll fight over music.”

“Oh, is that it?” He rolled his eyes and kissed me, moving against me slow and sweet.

“Sorry,” I said when he pulled back, “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

“I can handle sour morning breath,” he said, and it was so decisive and firm, I knew he wasn’t just talking about my taste. “I brought my big whiteboard and my rainbow of dry erase markers. We can make schedules and chore lists, and we can give each other gold stars and angry black X marks and whoever loses each week owes the other a favor.”

The quick answer told me that he’d actually thought about this, and had a lot of backup arguments and enticements lined up in case I wasn’t as easy or amenable as he’d been hoping. It seemed like a silly thing, but it was so thoughtful and so clever, so us.

I kissed him again, smiling stupidly when he made a little whiny noise of joy.

“We have to order pizza and run down the street for pop, so we can thank my friends for helping me pack and move,” he said once we’d both kissed each other breathless.

Leaning back against the slender trunk of the tree behind me, I plucked at my pajamas tented over my erection. “I’ll do it. I just need to stand here a minute and calm down.”

Gavin squeezed me and murmured in pure appreciation, “As long as I can rile you up again later, take all the time you need. I’ll just be flexing my cut muscles carrying heavy things and bending over to show off my cute ass while you do that.”

“Damn it, Gavin,” I groaned.

“I can do this every morning before you go to work, when you’re all prissy and perfect in your suits,” he said, eyes going wide as he obviously thought of this for the first time.

My laughter was so light and loud, it sent a bunch of birds into the air, squawking.