A Little Bit

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Warren

You’re disgusting. You’re depraved. You’re wrong.

You’re disgusting. You’re depraved. You’re wrong.

I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself.

My pen continues to flow over the lined paper of my notebook, taking some of the tension in my body with it. I keep writing the same lines until the feelings silence in my head. Until my hand cramps and I remember who I am. Warren James Baker II. Future senator. Not whoever that was last night. A deviant.

Something churns in my stomach. So I write another line for good measure.

I know this isn’t the best coping mechanism, but I used to do worse things so I consider it a win.

In the past, I would wear this rubber band around my wrist. When the bad thoughts would swirl around in my brain, trying to take over and ruin everything, I’d just find a quiet corner, pull the band back, and let it snap.

That bite of pain—the sting—would quiet everything, much better than the writing does now. It was instant, throwing a huge wet blanket over the fires in my brain, snuffing them out.

But it left red marks that my sister, SJ, noticed. She begged me to stop then watched me like a hawk to make sure I wasn’t still doing it. She even tried to make me stop the notebook. I told her I would, but I needed something , so I lied and kept going.

If all that wasn’t enough, Grandaddy noticed the rubber band and said it looked like a bracelet and “men don’t wear jewelry like a queer.”

So I had to adjust.

I know I probably should get help. But that’s not really acceptable in my family. You don’t go outside for help.

Read the bible.

Go to church.

Pray.

Be a man.

The only ways that you can fix whatever darkness lurks inside of you.

We’re not even a particularly religious family. But being a God-fearing person is an important principle in the party. So whenever you’re feeling off, the Bible and church are thrown around like valid suggestions, even though, in my twenty-three years of life, we’ve never been found in a church unless a camera crew was also invited.

But the suggestion coveted most around here is the unspoken one: pretend you’re fine. No one ever outright tells you to pretend, but they much prefer if you’re the type to always be happy. The one who never causes trouble. Never has issues.

Memories from last night flood my mind again. His black chipped nails wrapped around my dick. His hand, covered with tattoos. No big pieces, but small random ones. A rose. A swirl. Some numbers. Nothing that seemed to go together but somehow coalesced into the sexiest pair of hands I’ve ever had touching me.

He felt so good and right . The faint smell of liquor that wafted from him as his hot breath coasted over my face. The taste of me on his finger. Salty, musky, masculine . But also, the taste of his skin. It made me feel wild. I forgot about everything else in the entire world. In that moment, I would’ve sold everything I had to keep tasting him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I throw the notebook across the room and groan, grabbing my hair in my hands and pacing.

I stop in front of the mirror, looking at myself. I look strung out. Distraught. Disgusting. I pull the collar of my button-up away from my neck, seeing the slight red mark he left behind. I graze my fingers over it, shivering when I recall him sinking his teeth into me, how it hurt but also made me feel… something. Something not good.

I shake my head, trying to make it all go away, before scurrying back to where the notebook landed. I pick it up, trying to write a few more lines.

You’re disgusting. You’re depraved. You’re wrong.

But the thoughts are still here.

It’s not fucking working like it usually does.

Maybe I should get the rubber band.

As I’m debating, a ping from my phone rings through the room. Walking over to my bed, I pick it up and instantly roll my eyes.

Viv

Hey! I’m at the campus bookstore. Wanna meet me here?

I put my phone back down. Viv and I used to date. Used to . It was never anything very serious—for me anyway. The break- up wasn’t terrible and we agreed to be friends. But she’s having trouble letting go.

She wants to be a politician’s wife. Badly. When we were together, we used to talk about it quite a bit. Usually it was me nodding along as she would imagine how amazing it would be.

Honestly, she couldn’t be further from the truth. I’ve seen what the family goes through firsthand. Always having to put on a big, fake smile in front of crowds. Being stuffed into clothes you wouldn’t usually wear because it’s what voters would like. Having your life be controlled in almost every aspect. Doesn’t seem amazing.

Another text comes through.

Viv

Your friend is here. I guess he works here.

My brow pulls down in confusion. None of my friends have any reason to have a minimum wage job like working in the campus bookstore. I wouldn’t even call the people that come to mind, friends. Despite everyone knowing who I am—Darlene’s son, the future senator—no one knows me. No one wants to.

And anyway, the only ones to work those jobs would be the scholarship students. And I don’t know any of them.

Me

What friend?

Viv

The one from last night. Um. I forget his name.

Viv

He says it’s Eli.

I perk up, immediately beginning to sweat. The memories push to the front, but I try my best to put them back. Flashes still make it through, and it’s enough to make me grind my teeth. His hands. His smell.

I’m not gonna go.

Viv

He’s asking how you are.

Well, I’m obviously gonna go.

I stare up to the brick building of the bookstore. The walls crawl with ivy, covering almost the entire expanse of the facade. The Spanish moss hanging in the trees sways with the wind as I continue standing there. I reach my hand up and brush my fingers against a tuft hanging from one of the shorter magnolia trees.

Spanish moss is one of my favorite things about this picturesque, suffocating town. People have this misconception that it’s a parasite, trying to disrupt an ecosystem. But it doesn’t hurt it. It’s just existing. And some people still hate it. Especially Mother. She always has it removed from the trees in our courtyard. But it always comes back.

Walking away from the trees, I open the door to the bookstore and begin searching for Viv.

This place is huge. I’ve never been here, usually taking the route of ordering textbooks online like the rest of the population. Shelves of textbooks surround the circular room, leaving the middle with racks of AU merchandise and the occasional display of bestselling novels. Right at the very center of the room is a raised, round desk to match the shape of the room. A single light shines over it like a beacon, and I’m a moth, being drawn to the brightness.

My eyes snag on Viv, leaning over the desk with a smile while she props her face in her hands, animatedly discussing something with him. I try to keep my eyes trained on her. But they have to shift to him.

He’s directly under the spotlight, completely illuminated for me. The brightest thing in the room while somehow simultaneously being the darkest. His wavy dark hair reflects the light when he runs a hand through it, letting out a throaty laugh at something Viv says to him.

While she looks entirely too interested in him, showing all of her cards right out in the open, he radiates an air of detached confidence. He doesn’t need any of us. He chooses to gift us with his presence—a display of his generosity.

The tall rolling chair he’s sitting in squeaks loudly when he leans back, spreading his legs and clasping his hands behind his head. The motion causes his black jeans to stretch across his thighs and crotch. Viv watches every action with her entire being. Not me, though. Definitely not me.

It’s painfully obvious she wants him. I kind of wish she would go for it. That would take care of both of my problems at once.

But the more I think about it, while standing in the shadows of the room and watching their flirtatious exchanges, the tighter my chest feels. The tightness creeps up to my throat and squeezes. I try to clear my throat as quietly as possible to get rid of the feeling, but it’s obscenely loud in the silence. Eli’s eyes find mine and he plants a smirk on his face, making the tightness spread to every single part of my body. Even the parts it shouldn’t.

Viv follows his line of sight and spots me too. She gets on her tiptoes and waves her hand in the air. “Hey! We’re over here, Warren. Come say hi!”

I begrudgingly leave the shadows, making my way to the desk as slowly as I can. He watches every one of my movements, while Viv turns back and continues talking with him, oblivious to the fact that his attention has left her. It feels like he can see every one of my thoughts. The ones from last night. The ones I write in my notebook. The ones from the past. He’s peeling back every single layer I erect with that stupid smirk.

When I step up to the desk, Viv finally tears her eyes from him and throws her arms around my neck, letting out a tiny squeal. I flick my eyes back at Eli to see that his smirk is gone, replaced with a slight scowl while he watches her disentangle herself from me.

She pulls me by my hand to stand closer to the desk, staring between us. “You have to talk to Eli. He’s so funny.” She turns to me and does a fake pout. “Can I keep him?”

She’s joking. But some weird sensation hits me in the face. I don’t know how to describe it, but I know I don’t like it.

Before I can say anything, he hops off his chair, coming closer to us and leaning down to prop his chin in his hand. At this new angle, the light above him causes shadows to play across the muscles of his back, the black shirt he wears shifting around them with every slight movement.

When I look back at his eyes, he’s already looking at me, a lewd smile spread across his face from catching me looking at him anywhere but where a normal man would. I rip my eyes away and focus back on Viv, but not before noticing the eyeliner smudged along his lower lashes and how it draws me to the dark brown of his eyes.

A man in eyeliner. Disgusting.

Beautiful.

Disgusting.

“You know, Vivvy,” he chimes in. “I don’t really do well as a pet, but I’m great at being a pet owner.”

She giggles while he beams his smile at her, smirking at me for only a second when she bows her head to make herself seem more demure.

I interrupt her laughing. “Sorry. No pets for you, honey.”

Shit.

I should not have called her honey.

Her head immediately snaps to me, a wistful smile stretched across her beautiful face, promise blossoming in her eyes.

I didn’t mean to give her hope like that. It was just for him. I was trying to make him stop looking at me like that. Or her. Just stopping all his looks.

I clear my throat. “I mean, you heard. He doesn’t—he’s not a pet.”

He chimes in again, “Right. I own.”

I keep my eyes firmly trained on Viv, but I can still feel his gaze on me. Staring, assessing.

Viv laughs again. “See what I mean?” she says while pulling her phone out of her pocket. She glances at it and immediately raises her brows. “Oh. This is my mom. I have to take this. I’ll be right back, boys.” She blows a quick kiss to me and gives Eli a little finger wave before trotting off toward the entrance, stepping out to take her call so we can see her right outside the glass doors.

I’m still staring at her, willing her to come back in and save me when his voice comes from behind me. “So. Did you tell your girl that you sucked your cum off my finger?”

I whip my head around to glare at him. “Jesus!” I whisper-shout at him, while looking around the mostly darkened room for anyone who could’ve heard that. “Don’t-Don’t say that. And… she’s not my girl.”

“You know, a good southern boy shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“Desperate times,” I quip back, casting my eyes down to the floor so I don’t have to stare at him anymore. The eyeliner is too much. It brings him into another dimension. Like I was staring at him on paper before and suddenly he’s in 3D, right in front of my face.

“You should tell her that.”

“What?”

“That she’s not your girl. Because she doesn’t know. At all.”

“She does. She’s just hopeful.”

He’s still staring at me. That same stare that burns through me. I squirm under his scrutiny and pretend to be concerned with the pleat of my khakis, smoothing my thumb over it. But it’s perfectly crisp—it’s not going anywhere.

“When are we going to do that again?” he asks confidently, no indication in his face that my answer could be no.

I scoff at his certainty. “We’re not.”

A soft laugh slips out of him as he stands up straight, crossing his arms across his chest. My eyes trace down his arms, the various black tattoos popping against his tan skin. They’re just like his hands. Nothing seems to go together. They’re all random. A tiny heart. A slightly bigger clock face. An eye. It’s like he went into a tattoo shop every day and asked for a random object to be scratched into his skin forever. It’s chaotic.

“Oh, okay,” he volleys back. “So you’re just trying to be friends? Coming here to see me?”

“I didn’t come to see you.”

He stays silent, cocking his head in an unamused expression.

“Okay, sailor.” He leans down on the counter again as I roll my eyes at the nickname, then crooks his finger at me—just like last night. And just like last night, I somehow find myself inadvertently taking a few steps toward the same counter. That damn spotlight bouncing off all the parts of him I shouldn’t be noticing. “But just so you know”—he leans even closer, making the smell of fresh air and weed fill my nostrils—“you got to taste your cum, but I didn’t. And I still want to. Would you be okay with that? Shooting your load right down into my stomach?”

I stand there like an imbecile, breathing heavily and unable to form any words for him. Not even a denial for his revolting suggestion.

He stands back up, turning toward the cash register while letting out a low chuckle that makes my brain feel fuzzy.

The sound of the front door breaks me out of the spell. Viv comes back to us, throwing her arms around my waist and giving me a hug while she starts chattering to us about whatever happened while she was on the phone.

I honestly can’t hear her, I’m too busy watching Eli looking at her arms around me out of the corner of his eye, smirking and shaking his head.

Viv lifts her head up to look at me. “I just need to use the restroom and then do you want to go grab breakfast or something at that cute place down the street?”

“Uh, y-yeah. That’s fine,” I stutter and stumble over the sentence, my brain barely coherent while I watch Eli judging me.

“Okay!” she chirps before heading toward the back of the shop where the restroom is.

He continues counting the cash in the cash register as he says, “You’re lying to yourself. Just give in to what you want. You’d be happier.”

That’s not who I am.

You’re disgusting. You’re depraved. You’re wrong.

“I am happy,” I blurt back too quickly.

He lets out an exasperated sigh without looking at me. “Alright. Go find your girl and let me start my shift in peace.”

“I am happy,” I repeat more forcefully, unsure of who I’m trying to convince. Or why.

He ignores me, softly counting under his breath and starting to shove the small stacks into their slots.

I am happy. This is who I am.

I walk toward the restrooms without saying anything else. Finding the women’s, I wait until Viv starts pushing the door and slip inside, gently pushing her back in with me.

She gives me a confused look before searching my eyes and registering what’s there. I’m sure I look wild. Disordered. That’s what I feel like.

I just need to do this. I’m not proving anything to anyone. Myself or otherwise. No. I just… I just want this. Right now. No other reason.

“Really?” she purrs while raising one eyebrow at me and breaking into what’s supposed to be a sexy smile, but it just sends bad nerves firing within me.

I nod my head, all the sounds stuck in my throat.

Grabbing my shoulders, she pulls me around her so my back is against the wall and I’m facing the door. She drops to her knees and eagerly grasps at my belt, smoothly undoing it and pulling my zipper down.

As she yanks my khakis and boxers down my thighs, I can’t help but think that this isn’t fair to her. Calling her honey back there, plus this? It’s going to give her so much hope. Right now, as she’s licking and kissing along my dick, I’m sure she’s picturing all the respectable skirt and blazer sets she’ll wear as a senator’s wife.

Speaking of my dick, it won’t wake up. It stays sad and flaccid as she licks it, kisses it, pulls at it like a piece of hot taffy.

She looks up at me. “Um. Maybe you can direct me? What do you want me to do?” She takes my balls in her hand as she says it, rolling them around to try and get my cock to cooperate.

I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the wall. “No. Um, no. You’re doing good, just keep going. Sorry, I think I’m tired or something.”

She dives back in without another word.

I don’t want to do this, but I start letting images filter in my head.

Just to get myself going.

I won’t need this every time.

Her soft caress turns into something much harsher and more sure. When I look down at her, there’s a much darker person in her place. Dark hair. Dark chuckle. Dark aura. I watch as tattooed hands wrap around my rapidly filling cock, roughly stroking me, giving me a bit of pain to remind me that I’m not shit to them.

A bigger and plumper mouth wraps around me and begins sucking, taking me as far back as they can.

I start pumping my hips, looking down at dark-brown eyes as they blaze up at me, lined with black. Masculine, beautiful eyes. Bringing my thumb up, I smear some of the black eyeliner because for some reason, I want to see it messy.

A perfectly manicured hand with pink-painted nails smacks mine away, shattering the images in my head, bringing Viv’s presence back in full force.

“Shit,” I mutter, while throwing my head back and squeezing my eyes shut again, trying to bring the pictures back so I can come and get her off this floor.

When I open my eyes again, they find Eli’s staring back at me. The real Eli. His muscular body leaning against the bathroom door that he’s silently pushed open.

Viv continues working in earnest below me, desperately trying to get me off and earn herself in my good graces, completely unaware of our audience behind her.

That smirk he always has is brazenly plastered on his face as he watches, quietly roaming his eyes all over me, assessing my reactions. His hand skates down his torso and into his black jeans. His lips roll between his teeth as he grasps his obviously excited dick. The outline makes my mouth water, and without my consent, my brain conjures up images of what it could look like, huge and thick and veiny, wet from sliding across my tongue.

A pained whine leaves my lips. Viv thinks it’s about her, so she doubles her efforts, bringing her hand up to help jack me while her mouth slurps and drools all over my painfully hard dick, all while his eyes burn a path through my body.

I can’t quite come. I’m worked up and right on the edge, but something holds me back. The dark eyes across from me continue to watch as I writhe and whine with need, and then he silently mouths, “Come.”

It barrels out of me, cum shooting into the mouth sucking me. My body doubles over from the ecstasy, curving in on itself, making me grab her shoulder so I don’t fall to the ground.

When I look up again, I’m met with a firmly shut door. Which is a good thing.

While I slump against the wall, Viv stands up and goes to the sink to rinse out her mouth. She comes back and smiles. “That was nice, huh? We should do that more often.”

My stomach drops, because I don’t want to do this more often. I’m going to fix this, but I’m not sure how right now.

I say nothing, just kind of grunt in her direction, hoping she doesn’t really see it as an agreement to her suggestion.

I sigh heavily while pulling up my pants, because that did the opposite of what I wanted it to do. If anything, he’s more cemented in my brain than before.

“Ready?” she says brightly while standing next to the door.

I nod my head and push down the heavy instinct to run back home and fill up my notebook.