He knocked on G.G.’s door while holding a biodegradable grocery bag that contained a covered dish of spaghetti with meatballs and one pastry in a sandwich baggie. His grandmother hadn’t felt like cooking much after snacking on cakes and bars all afternoon. Trevor couldn’t blame her there, and they’d had the meatballs already made.
He hadn’t eaten any of the dinner himself. He’d snacked on too many pastries right along with her, but also his stomach was doing the occasional nervous flip that made him decide eating again was a bad idea.
G.G. opened the door wearing jeans and a paint-stained t-shirt that immediately made Trevor wonder if he’d been moping since he couldn’t possibly have been working on anything. G.G.’s hand was still bandaged, a loose, messy wrap of gauze that Trevor glared at, unable to help himself.
He looked up when G.G. said his name quiet and surprised, and wiped the glare from his face.
If G.G. had been saying no, he had every right to. But nobody liked being stood up, so Trevor also didn’t give him a smile.
“Are you okay?” G.G. asked, which threw him. “I thought your headache might have gotten worse.”
“You were worried?” was the first ridiculous question Trevor had, and for some reason, he asked it.
“I told you, you’re allowed to rest, Brian Trevor Matheson,” G.G. remarked in a faintly wistful voice, somehow sounding almost exactly like Sky.
Trevor stared at him in absolute consternation, which made G.G. frown a little, then drop his other hand to his bandaged one to pick at the gauze.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be by,” G.G. said, glancing over the empty court before looking back to Trevor. “It’s late, and you didn’t yesterday. Of course, you don’t have to. I just thought….” He didn’t say what he thought. He changed the subject. “I have a dish for you to take back but I wasn’t sure if I should wash it.”
Trevor bit the inside of his cheek and stared at G.G. offering himself up like that in his careful way. He cleared his throat to speak pleasantly. “Spaghetti with meatballs. The pasta is not homemade but the meatballs and sauce are. Although my grandma says to tell you that the sauce did not simmer all day because she is a busy woman.”
G.G.’s head went back and he drew his eyebrows together, perhaps correctly wondering if Trevor’s grandmother was angry with him.
“She’s ticked at the moment because she’s confused,” Trevor revealed without explaining anything more. If G.G. wanted an explanation, he could ask or beg for it. Trevor took a step closer to the door and held out the grocery bag. “Thank you for the box from the bakery.”
G.G.’s eyebrows unfurled.
“Did you like it?” G.G. briefly worried his bottom lip. “I wanted something that would go well with tea. But that’s not the tea you drink?”
Trevor slowly inclined his head without taking his eyes off G.G. “She said she told you that. And yeah.”
G.G. didn’t seem any less quietly anxious. “So you didn’t like them?”
“They were delicious,” Trevor informed him with real pleasure, rewarded by the flood of pink above G.G.’s beard. “Unexpected, and the sort of exquisite dessert it would never occur to me to try on my own.” He watched the shudder G.G. tried to suppress, then added, “I saved you one.”
Pretty eyes widened. “You didn’t need to do that.”
Trevor started to answer as he shook his head, but G.G. shifted the grocery bag around in his good hand, either nervous or trying not to strain it more than what he must have already done.
Trevor considered that fail attempt at a bandage again and then murmured, “I can’t tell if you aren’t asking because you still think it’ll bother me, or if you genuinely think I’m too angry to do it.” He exhaled in exhaustion at himself, at G.G., at broken kitchen knives, everything. Then he leaned in. “I know I didn’t need to save one for you. I did it anyway.”
G.G. stared at him without pulling back. “What?”
“What?” Trevor echoed him with false innocence. “I saved you one because I wasn’t sure if you ordered anything for yourself, and you should have a treat, G.G. I want you to.”
Tantalizing hints of feelings crossed G.G.’s face before he seemed to steel himself. “I thought you were disappointed. With me. When you didn’t show after we… after you said what you said.”
“I was disappointed,” Trevor admitted. “But not with you.” G.G.’s frown returned. Trevor shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you have your reasons. And I appreciate that you were concerned for me. More than I can say, really.”
G.G.’s frown deepened.
Trevor held out his hand. “If you want, I’ll rebandage that for you. Wrap it too, if you haven’t figured out anything else for the shower. We can do it in silence if you don’t want to talk to me. It’s fine. I really am happy to help.”
G.G. stepped aside for him and followed Trevor’s path to his kitchen with a perplexed, distracted expression that didn’t fade even when they were standing by the kitchen island and Trevor turned to gently remove the grocery bag from G.G.’s wrist.
“I wanted to get you something nice.” It was nearly a question.
Trevor set the grocery bag aside. “They were exquisite,” he told G.G. again. “Lincoln must have been overjoyed at the chance to make them.”
The door to the kitchen was nudged open by Miss Delilah, who came right up to G.G. and then Trevor, twisting around his ankles in a friendly greeting before sneezing and bolting to the spot under the nook.
“His business is still slow without as many commuters,” G.G. said absently. “Why were you disappointed?”
Trevor looked over, looked down, because G.G. was that much shorter than him. “You know where to go if you want me to do this for you.”
G.G. seemed to flutter, as if a spike in his pulse took hold of his whole body. He parted his lips, then nodded. He went and sat.
Trevor stood over him and took the hand G.G. gave him. He gave G.G. no praise in return, but his motions were practiced and smooth. He removed the used bandages and then went to get the replacements, which he set into place without a word.
“The flavors were to your taste?” G.G. asked, breaking the silence after several long looks up at Trevor through his eyelashes. “Even though you don’t drink tea the way I assumed?”
“Like proper tea from a proper tea pot?” The lack of bitterness in Trevor’s voice surprised him, but he suspected it had something to do with G.G.’s eyelashes, which were also pretty. “I like sugary drinks in well-designed cans, as you discovered. And I make herbal teas for Sky after… for after.” He finally returned one of G.G.’s looks. “I didn’t need an apology. No one was forcing you to come. I was disappointed that you didn’t, though. I wanted to give you that.”
G.G. brought his head up to stare at Trevor directly. He seemed to make himself breathe. “You meant that?” he asked as Trevor taped down the end of the gauze. “I thought that was one of your jokes.”
Trevor set the roll of medical tape down hard. “It was a written invitation,” he said in disbelief. “The expression is, ‘What, do you need a written invitation?’ but apparently even that isn’t enough for G.—what does the first g stand for anyway?”
G.G. gazed at him, surprise all over his darkening face. “I didn’t think that was serious. When you offered it, I thought you were teasing.”
“Because a tea party was a ridiculous thing to offer in the first place?” Trevor did his best to make that light and joking, although that probably didn’t matter, all things considered. He gathered up the mess and moved away to deal with it. “You know me,” he swept on, tossing the old bandages, putting the rest away, not addressing the paper invitation with the drawing of a cat on it that was sitting on G.G.’s counter. “I’m artistic and get carried away. So. The spaghetti can go in the oven—or microwave it. Whatever. You know how to feed yourself. You don’t need me for these things. You don’t want that from me.” He turned back to G.G. “It’s fine.”
G.G. was on his feet but hadn’t otherwise moved.
“The sketch of Miss Delilah was very good.” G.G. gave Trevor one of his small, cautious smiles and Trevor put one hand to the countertop linoleum, which was extraordinarily cool or Trevor was extraordinarily hot. G.G. watched him carefully, the way he always watched Trevor, at least until Trevor looked back. Then he’d usually glance away or lower his head… or scuttle away. But not this time. “The first g stands for Gregory, which nobody calls me or has ever called me. I’ve been G.G. my entire life. Although not how you say it.”
Trevor stared and stared at G.G. until G.G. began to breathe faster.
Trevor thought he should say something.
“You don’t need to throw compliments at me. I know I can draw. I worked hard at it. Even that sketch took me following Mr. Tammy around so I could get cat feet right. I—I wasn’t joking. The tea party was silly, but I wasn’t joking. You wanted a change in routine, so I offered you my garden. Not mine, I mean. My gr….”
“Your garden.” G.G. was quiet. He took a deep breath and seemed to settle as he let it out, his shoulders easing down. “There are clubs for people like me. But no one offering me their gardens.”
Trevor’s throat was tight. “Because it’s fanciful, immature, and nerdy?”
G.G. shook his head once. “Trevor, you must have noticed that I don’t have anyone.”
It was the worst thing in the entire world in that moment that G.G. would say those words and then dole out another private smile.
Trevor moved across the kitchen, around the island, so he could slide his hand up to G.G.’s cheek. “I don’t understand that.”
G.G. closed his eyes the second Trevor touched him, then slowly blinked them open again. “I lost a friend group just before everything shut down. No,” he went on a second later. “That’s not accurate. Not just before. But they’re gone. Anyway, none of them were the kind to…”
“Invite you over for tea?” Trevor finished for him, letting his hand fall.
G.G. met Trevor’s stare, his gaze very warm. “It might have been nice.”
“You don’t need to be kind about my failure.” It was easier to say now. “You aren’t a ‘sit outside with this dork’ kind of man. That’s okay.” Trevor meant that. “But you should believe that the offer was genuine.” He could even manage a smile about it. “It was a literal written invitation, Gregory,” he added softly. “Do only orders work on you?”
G.G. glanced around the kitchen as if something there could help him deal with Trevor’s teasing. “I don’t often get written invitations. Or any invitations, these days.”
“Yeah, well.” Trevor wondered if all that blushing left G.G. lightheaded. “I wanted you there. I bought snacks.” He had no idea why he was being this honest. He must want to torture himself with his failure.
G.G. made a startled face, as if no one in his life really ever did think to invite him over and feed him.
“I even bought some nice cider and beer,” Trevor continued, testing, pleased when G.G.’s gaze grew even warmer. “Cider in case you don’t like beer—hard cider. Like I said, I don’t actually drink tea from a teapot. Although I’m sure I could manage to serve some if someone wanted it. But I don’t. And my grandmother loves coffee. Too much really.”
“I used to drink a lot of beer,” G.G. said distantly before stopping to frown. “People expect you to like beer when you have my family or work in construction. I’m not sure I’ve had cider except for the sparkling kind they give to children as a champagne substitute.”
“Well, I still have it. The cider, I mean. Or I can make coffee for you.” Trevor took a moment to steady himself and make sure he was clear and didn’t use any cat puns. “We needed to talk, and you needed the break, and I… I wanted to see you there.” He thought he should be terrified, but he’d already been implicitly rejected twice in the span of a few days, and there was something freeing about honesty—and the way his honesty made G.G. look directly at him. “I want to get to know you. That is an invitation to hang out, if you meant it when you said it might have been nice. I know my social skills have atrophied the past few years but yours might be worse. I don’t know exactly what you want from me yet. But we can also be friends, or… more, eventually, if you don’t think that’s too ridiculous.”
Trevor was a fool, and as lightheaded as G.G. might be though he didn’t even have the excuse of being flushed. The idea of dating G.G. was ridiculous, for every reason Trevor had given to his grandmother. All of which were probably obvious to G.G. as well.
“Hang out?” G.G. didn’t seem to know what to do with those words. “I know I’m old, but doesn’t that phrase mean hooking up now?”
“You’re not old,” Trevor responded fiercely. “You’re just older. Anyway, that doesn’t mean anything. You’re not even my dad’s age.”
G.G.’s eyes widened. Then he licked the corner of his mouth before giving Trevor the most carefully mischievous look Trevor had ever received. “I think we both know who the daddy is here, Trevor.”
There was probably a smooth, smartass answer to that. Trevor was so stunned by hearing it said and with his name, not Brian but Trevor, that he said, “Fuck, I want to kiss you.”
G.G.’s answer was quiet. “Please.”
Trevor took G.G.’s face in his hands and pressed him back into the nook table to kiss him, rattling everything beneath it. Miss Delilah might have darted away. Trevor didn’t look to see. G.G.’s hands came up to reach for him. Trevor grabbed one wrist and pulled back long enough to say, “This one stays down. Put it behind your back, I don’t care, but you don’t bleed for me until I say so.”
G.G.’s lips were wet, his breath fast. He nodded quickly, gaze flying up to meet Trevor’s, then lowering. “Yes, Trevor.”
Trevor kissed him again, fucking enamored with G.G.’s easy obedience and the soft sounds he made between kisses, as if stopping to breathe hurt him. He put the barest pressure against Trevor’s chest with his other hand, clearly uncertain if he was allowed to. Trevor took that hand by the wrist too, tugging it down to his waist and pulling it under his shirt to let G.G. feel skin. He had to be starving for touch.
G.G.’s palm was slightly rough with calluses. He was breathless already, straining forward whenever Trevor inched back to look at him. But he was so sweetly fuckable, flushed and bright-eyed, lips wet, Trevor had to keep looking.
And touch. It had been months since the last time Trevor had touched another man with intent and for a second, his mind stuttered over the possibilities. Then he dropped his hands to slide them down G.G.’s chest and over his stomach.
G.G. was all shivers. So still, as if he understood he should be, but trembling when Trevor sucked a kiss beneath his ear and then whispered over the wet skin. “When was the last time someone touched you, Gigi baby?”
Trevor probably should have blushed for the nickname, but G.G. gave a whole-body shudder and turned his face to find Trevor’s mouth as if compelled to by one Gigi baby. Trevor pressed him back into the table again and dragged their mouths together without giving G.G. the kiss he wanted.
G.G. whined too, like Sky, but cut off the sound on his own.
“You can make noise,” Trevor ducked his head to experimentally nip at G.G.’s ear. “Has it been months? Years? Go on, baby, make whatever sounds you want so I can learn what you like.”
“Trevor,” G.G. exhaled, then jolted. “Brian, I mean. Please.”
“Trevor,” Trevor corrected, nipping again until he heard it.
“Years. Please. Trevor, please.”
“Oh, my poor G.G.,” Trevor cooed. “My poor little poodle.” He skimmed a touch over G.G.’s dick, hard in his jeans.
G.G.’s eyes fluttered opened. He looked dizzy, confused maybe by the other new nickname but then meeting Trevor’s gaze as he answered. “Trevor.”
“No one to give you what you needed?” Trevor continued, popping G.G.’s fly. “You going to let me?”
G.G. nodded before the question was even finished. “Yes,” he rasped.
He was so good, and so wound up Trevor didn’t think he should tease him anymore. Not today, anyway. Which he said while easing down the zipper on G.G.’s jeans and cupping his cock and balls through his gray briefs. “Not gonna make you wait today. But keep that hand back. All right?”
Trevor stopped, glancing up to G.G.’s red face. “I asked you a question.”
G.G. nodded again, then cracked his jaw to answer out loud. “Yes. All right.”
“You’re so fucking good,” Trevor leaned in to give him a small kiss, then left G.G. panting so he could look down and watch as he pushed down denim and then damp cotton. G.G. had a short, thick, cut cock with a tiny patch just behind the glans that felt different against Trevor’s thumb. It took him a moment to recognize it as a scar from a healed piercing.
G.G. got another kiss for that. Trevor looked between them again, running his fingertips over the scar and leaving G.G. to shake and stifle his moans until he must have remembered Trevor had told him to make sounds.
“I wish I could have seen your cock with its piercing. Did it make things more sensitive for you?” Trevor met G.G.’s distracted stare when G.G. opened his eyes. His poor, desperate hermit crab didn’t appear to have processed Trevor’s question at all. He was red all down his neck now too, and probably lower. He looked like it was a struggle to focus.
“What was there?” Trevor asked anyway, weaving fantasies about it while continuing his exploration. “I bet you looked incredible, baby. Did you wear a harness? If you still have it, I’d like to see you in it. You’ll be so hot all trussed up for me, won’t you?”
He had no idea if G.G. was into that, but G.G. murmured, “Yes. Yes, Trevor. Yes.” answering any and all questions Trevor put to him in a feverish voice. He hadn’t moved his injured hand from behind his back or pushed forward from where Trevor had pressed him to the table. He couldn’t be comfortable, but his eyes were bright and dazed and he wasn’t complaining.
The piercing would have made his torment greater, which he must have enjoyed, like everyone who had ever been allowed to touch him must have enjoyed it. “Did they restrain you first?” Trevor ducked down to nip at the other side of G.G.’s neck, finally sliding his hand down to search for more piercing scars on G.G.’s shaft or sack. G.G. whimpered again, trying to turn his head for another kiss.
Trevor spoke against his mouth without giving him anything. “I bet you beg the second they ask. That’s the fun, isn’t it, you spoiled thing? G.G. gets to be the greedy center of attention?” It drew another whine out of G.G., and then another, longer, when Trevor speculated, “How many did you let have you? Pretty G.G. fucked into oblivion. I can see it. You perform so well. You would earn everything they gave you. Everything I give you.”
“Trevor,” G.G. begged quietly. “Please.”
Trevor left G.G. to tremble and took one hand to push G.G.’s shirt up to his chin so he could finally lay his eyes on G.G.’s stomach and furred tits with gleaming silver barbells at each hard nipple. He took a squeezing handful before he looked up again.
G.G. was panting, his gaze locked on Trevor.
“Noises,” Trevor reminded him, “Loud this time so I know what you like,” and tried the edge of a fingernail first, then a pinch. G.G. made hungry, punched-out sounds, not loud, but noisy enough, trying to please. It was when Trevor gave one peaked nipple a twist that he finally cried out and his cock jumped.
Trevor bent down, giving G.G.’s mouth one kiss as a reward, and then the barely-abused nipple. G.G.’s skin was hot. He clutched Trevor’s side.
“Bet you looked incredible,” Trevor stood up and stepped in, removing the last of the distance between them as he returned his attention to G.G.’s dick, “your straining cock and its shiny jewelry. Did they give you a gag? A blindfold?”
Their talk, when they eventually had it, was going to kill him.
G.G. only had another whine for an answer.
Trevor stopped stroking him to lightly flick one nipple.
G.G.’s eyes flew open.
“Were you pretty, G.G.?”
“Trevor,” G.G. said in a rasp, head back and allowing Trevor anything. He’d spent years wanting someone to hurt him and make him feel good. Trevor flicked that nipple again, less lightly, and G.G. shivered all over as he groaned. “Yes. Yes, I was pretty.”
“Oh, that’s so good.” Trevor kissed his throat and tightened his grip, letting it be dry, letting it chafe and burn a little. G.G. seemed to like it. He was going to go under so easily when they finally did this right. “My good boy.” Trevor let G.G.’s shirt fall over his hand but left it there, working the one nipple with idle pinches and rolls. G.G. was louder now, gasping to the ceiling and exhaling rough sounds almost like words when something must have hurt right. Trevor nipped his neck again, leaving reddened, damp trails. “Come on, Gigi baby.”
G.G. shot over his stomach and chest moments later, nearly growling when Trevor didn’t stop jacking him and then falling back into a whine when Trevor finally stopped but continued to toy with his nipples.
Trevor reached down to squeeze himself through his jeans, breathing hard and not bothering to hide it.
G.G., shaking and still trying to come down, dug his fingers into Trevor’s hip. “On me. Please.”
Grinning breathlessly, Trevor hauled G.G.’s shirt back up. He took out his cock and allowed a moment for G.G.’s ravenous staring, then started to beat himself off to the sight of G.G.’s reddened nipples and thick, hairy belly. It didn’t take long for him to come all over G.G.’s chest and into the jizz cooling on G.G.’s stomach. He fell forward to place a kiss on G.G.’s waiting mouth and rub into their shared mess, adding more to it in the process.
He itched to find the piercing scar again, but didn’t know how G.G. felt about overstimulation. He suspected G.G. liked it, but for now exchanged a few panting kisses before dropping his head to kiss down G.G.’s throat and regard G.G.’s come-splattered torso with pride.
“Rhinestones,” he mumbled, more to himself than to G.G. Pampered pets in old movies always wore rhinestones. Maybe not every day, not for G.G., but G.G. would definitely need something that sparkled for special occasions. When he’d earned them. Trevor bit down, not hard, the lightest impression of his teeth to make G.G. start to breathe harder again. Then Trevor let go and straightened so he could go back to kissing G.G.’s mouth.
Trevor liked kissing. From how G.G. continued to sigh and push forward for more, so did G.G., and had probably missed it along with everything else. He finally moved his hand, reaching for Trevor when Trevor started to pull away, then freezing.
Trevor leaned back to regard G.G.’s dusky face with a contented smile.
“You can touch me. We haven’t really agreed to anything.” He wanted to kiss the tip of G.G.’s nose. That wasn’t entirely the leftover rush from coming, though it felt the same.
G.G. was a little come-drunk too. He took Trevor’s remark as permission to loop his arms around Trevor’s back, keeping him close, and Trevor sank back down for another kiss with a beaming smile on his dumb face.
“That was nice. Good.” Trevor ran his palms over G.G.’s shoulders to encourage him to come down and catch his breath. It could have been a lot, but Trevor had restrained himself and G.G. seemed happy without being overwhelmed.
“Yes,” G.G. agreed, nuzzling under Trevor’s chin. “Thank you.”
Trevor, about to comment on the nuzzling—adorable, honestly—nearly choked. He cleared his throat, then whispered, “Ah, no problem. You’re welcome,” only to worry if that was the wrong response. Since he didn’t know and couldn’t ask, he shut his eyes and let out a long breath. “Thank you.” That was better. “We should do that again. Or better things. Don’t listen to me. It’s been a while. What I mean is, we should talk, and then do whatever the fuck we want. If you still feel like it. Okay?”
G.G. snorted softly against Trevor’s neck, amused apparently. But he also wasn’t letting go.
Trevor waited, then gently urged G.G. back by his shoulder so he could look into his face. “No?” he prompted. G.G. still did not quite look pulled together. Trevor might have pushed more than he’d thought, or G.G. just went under that easily.
Trevor held eye contact, waiting for G.G.’s attention to sharpen even the smallest amount. Then he said, “A written invitation didn’t work, Gigi baby, I need words from you.”
The pet name outside of sex was probably too much. Later, Trevor might think about it and actually blush.
“Okay,” G.G. agreed slowly. He inclined his head, swaying toward Trevor to reveal, “I’d like to kneel for you in your garden.”
Trevor wanted to pin him down and use his mouth on every inch of him. In the garden, outside of the garden, he didn’t care. Holy fuck.
He took a few measured breaths instead. He nodded back. “Then I will figure out how to give you that.” If he had to let his grandmother get high as hell and then encourage her to pass out in her bedroom, then so be it.
G.G. peered up at Trevor with remarkably shy interest for someone who looked like the end of a bukkake scene in a bara manga. “You want that?”
Trevor got lost in the sight of him for a second. “I’m greedy,” he answered without thinking, “I might take all you’ve got to give me.”
When G.G.’s response to this was to smile beatifically, looking a little stoned himself, Trevor shook his head to help him get a hold on his runaway thoughts.
“Let me see your hand. Make sure we didn’t mess it up again.”
G.G. presented it without a word. He didn’t seem to be in pain and the wound hadn’t been reopened, so Trevor sighed in relief and let his hand go. “Seems to be healing well,” he said as he hadn’t earlier.
“I’ll be good,” G.G. promised. “I can’t build your desk until it’s better.” He didn’t appear to like it when that made Trevor sigh deeply. “If you don’t want it, then….”
Trevor kissed him quiet, one hand stroking his beard, which was getting wilder the longer G.G. had to wait to groom it. “You’re dying to get back to work and you can’t.” G.G.’s small huff said he agreed with that assessment. Trevor gave him another kiss. “Will you tell me what you do all day when you aren’t building things?”
G.G. jerked his head up. “Why?”
Trevor straightened. “Why what?” he asked in confusion. “Why am I asking—oh.”
They weren’t dating. They were nothing at the present moment but neighbors who’d gotten off together once. Trevor was getting ahead of himself. G.G. was right to remind him.
Trevor stepped back, turning toward the sink. He was calm. “We should get you cleaned up.”
“Trevor,” G.G. said, all appeasing concern, “it’s not interesting.”
Trevor nodded while letting the water in the sink run until it wasn’t cold anymore, then grabbing a dishtowel. One from the set that had yet to be replaced, he noted absently as he returned to G.G. to gently wipe away their mess.
If it made G.G. shiver and made his responsive nipples beg for attention, Trevor did his best not to notice. He went back to the sink to rinse the towel out. His shirt was dotted with splashes, hopefully of water, but Trevor could wash it once he got home. Which he should do sooner rather than later.
“Trevor,” G.G. tried again, so Trevor dried his hands and turned around to give him a smile.
“I should get back to my grandmother. She wasn’t expecting me to be gone so long. I left her talking to my mom, and there’s a whole extended family mess. I think the lack of get-togethers until this year is making everyone testy. And I should get some work done anyway.”
He tried not to think of himself as once again not needed after he’d helped someone else come. That wasn’t what this was. G.G. was cautious. Trevor could behave.
But he paused to pull G.G.’s shirt down since G.G. hadn’t, then said, “You can probably use that biodegradable bag over your hand in the shower. It’s stiff but it should work. No need for me to wrap anything. The bandage is thick enough that it should be okay if a few drops got in there.”
G.G. frowned up at him, confused and pink. Trevor didn’t allow himself a touch. Not a physical one.
“In the bag, there is one honey-apple tartlet. I’d like it if you enjoyed it. I hope I chose the pastry you like the best.” He paused, watching G.G. swallow, then offer the shallowest nod. Trevor smiled more genuinely this time. “When you’re ready, we still need to have that talk.”
He arched an eyebrow. G.G. nodded again.
“About a lot of things.” Trevor didn’t make it a question, but G.G. answered, “Yes, Trevor.”
“But I am not pushing,” Trevor insisted instead of telling G.G. how good he was. “Not about this. I… I’m not good at this part. I thought I was.” If Trevor had nothing else, he’d at least thought he’d been a good boyfriend. But apparently, he wasn’t even a good enough friend, since Sky wouldn’t talk to him. He’d pushed too hard the other night. He would be careful with G.G. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
G.G. nodded quickly. “Please.”
Trevor sighed and gave in to his screaming needs by pressing a brief kiss to G.G.’s temple.
G.G. shifted forward to keep Trevor close. Startled, Trevor nonetheless shut his eyes and stayed with him.
He was a little hungry too.
When Trevor finally got back to the house, his grandmother kept her gaze strictly on the TV and asked no questions.
She was the best.
Trevor went to his room for a new shirt, then grabbed Ellie and headed out for a long, thoughtful walk.