Defining Us: The Calvin & Eric Story (69 Bottles) (19 page)

BOOK: Defining Us: The Calvin & Eric Story (69 Bottles)
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He doesn't say anything for a few moments and I pull my hand away and watch as he shivers at the loss and my hand tingles to touch him again. "Eric," he breathes. I look at him, cocking my head and I stroke my thumb along his arm in encouragement. "I have to be honest about something."
 

"Anything," I tell him.
 

"It really wasn't until New York, when you came out to the guys and I saw their reaction, that I really let a lot of this side of me take over. I've been consumed with it since that night. Before that, I had my suspicions about you, but you'd never confirmed them. Yeah, you'd kissed me in the past, but a part of me rationalized it by thinking you were curious or bisexual. Sure, I've had feelings for you for years - thought I didn't know how to process them - but…" He pauses.
 

"You locked them away, unsure of what I would think?"
 

He gives me a sad smile. "Among other things. I worried about what the guys would say, think. In fact, I worry about it still."
 

I smile at him. "I wouldn't worry about them. You saw it with me, even now. Jesus, I knew that walking onto that tour bus would change so many things, but I never, in my wildest imagination, imagined that things would be happening the way they have," I tell him.
 

"How so?"
 

"Well, Talon and Kyle?" I raise an eyebrow at him and he smirks.
 

"No, I definitely didn't see that coming," he agrees.
 

"No, I didn't either, but then again, I'm not so sure those two would have ever considered being with each other if Addison hadn't come around. In fact, we have Addison to thank for a lot of shit."
 

He cocks his head at me, willing me to explain. Much the same way I had earlier, though in return I just give him a very pointed look. He laughs. "Yeah, I suppose. Dex and Raine - if Addison hadn't come with us, Raine would have never shown up in New York."
 

"Tori and Rusty."
 

"God, who'd have thought that those two…" he slips into his own thoughts.
 

"And if she hadn't encouraged me to come out…"
 

"We wouldn't be sitting here, like this," he finishes.
 

"Exactly," I agree.
 

We sit in silence for a few minutes before I get up. He stops me and leans in, bringing his lips to mine in a soft, ‘don't go' kind of kiss. My head swims with his contact. "I'm just gonna put some clothes on." I give him a smile as I get up off of the couch and head for my bedroom. Once outside of his presence, I take a huge, comforting, cleansing breath, pulling as much air into my lungs as humanly possible.
 

There is a huge weight that comes with Calvin, one that I never thought to expect, but it all suddenly makes perfect sense. It makes sense why I couldn't make a move, why he never made one on his own. The fact that we both feel things for each other confirms that my own emotions weren't one sided, which fills me with relief. I knew there was no rhyme or reason for me to have feelings for someone who would never reciprocate.
 

Jess and I have talked about it numerous times. She'd been in situations where she'd had feelings for someone, would do almost anything for them, only to be treated like shit and only to be told years later, after the fact, that they were really in love with her but didn't know how to handle it. I'd told her that it was because they didn't have to. She willingly handed over so much of herself that the guys didn't feel the need to work for it. That was until it was gone, then all of a sudden there is so much more to it than what was on the surface.
 

In a way, that is how it's been with Calvin all this time. Though I was giving and willing to give him pieces of me, whether he wanted them or not, he wasn't sure how to process them, how to handle them, but all the while, he too was falling in love.
 

"You're not doing your hair are you?"
 

The sound of his voice makes me jump. "What? No, I just…"
 

He grins. "You okay?"
 

My answering smile is big and bright. "More than okay. I guess I never really gave myself time to process anything from yesterday until now. Instead I just buried it, got drunk over it and now I actually feel freer than I've felt in years and I don't know how to describe it," I tell him candidly. Something I've always been able to do with him except when it came to my emotions. Like a shy freckle-faced teenager talking to the girl he likes for the first time.
 

"I understand that better than you think," he tells me as he sits on the foot of my bed.
 

I shiver as excitement courses through me, seeing him on my bed. I won't lie, all this talking about his past, his treatment; everything is overwhelming and scary as fuck, but seeing Calvin sitting on my bed has my cock stirring again. I swallow. "I'd imagine you do. I really hoped that you telling me would lift some of that burden from your shoulders."
 

He smiles as he lowers his head and clasps his hands together before his lust filled gaze meets mine. Fuck. I'm not sure, but I think he captures my reaction, the one I tried to hide, and his features shift and his demeanor changes enough to pull me back to the present and out of my fantasies. "Honestly, if I'd known that it would be like this," he gestures between the two of us, "I would've told you years ago." Then he shakes his head. "Then again, maybe not. I think that you coming out woke the beast inside me, made me take a harder, longer look at myself, who I am and who it is that I want to be."
 

"My coming out did all of that?" I ask, as I finally manage to straighten out my t-shirt and pull it over my head.
 

He sighs and my eyes meet his as I pull it down my body, that little smirk is playing at his lips again and I actually fucking blush. "That is so not fair," I mumble.
 

That's when he stands up and saunters toward me. Unsure of what he's going to do, I take a small step back between me and my closet door. He's still coming at me. "No, it's not," he says softly before his body is pressed against me and his lips are pressed firmly to mine.
 

His hands slide up my stomach, pushing my t-shirt back up. His hands are warm and rough, kneading at my flesh as he climbs higher and slides his tongue into my mouth when I gasp for breath.
 

Taking a cue from earlier, I put my hands on his forearms and slide them up toward his shoulders. He shudders and I'm concerned it's for the wrong reasons so I stop moving. He pulls his lips from mine and I tremble at the loss. "Don't stop," he whispers and his breath caresses along my jaw. I take his request and keep moving my hands further up his arms, going for his shoulders, then down his chest.
 

I feel my fingers scrape over one of his nipples and the piercing there. He shudders. I freeze, but he encourages me by bringing his hand to cup the back of my head and pulling me down to his lips. "Ahh," I moan into his mouth and pull back slightly. "You're pushing my limits of control, Calvin," I breathe.
 

"I know," he answers back before kissing me chastely once, twice, and a third time before releasing my head and pulling back from my body altogether.
 

His body locks down, and people constantly joke about turning green, but I watch Calvin, literally, turn green and pale with sweat on his forehead before he takes off into my en suite bathroom.

"Shit," I curse under my breath as I hear Calvin vomiting violently into my toilet. "Fuck! Shit! Fuck! Dammit." I stutter through every curse word I can think of under my breath as I slowly walk toward the bathroom door.
 

"Don't. Please," he pleads between heaves.
 

"Do you want me to leave?" He vehemently shakes his head.
 

"Just stay there." His voice is pained, softer than the last time we had an encounter like this, but I can hear it in his voice. He truly hates himself right now and that hurts me the most.
 

"Okay." I can't hide my own sadness and pain from my voice. I did try my hardest, but it didn't work.
 

Slowly his convulsions and the retching subsides, but he stays there, pulling in huge lungfuls of air and his color returns.
 

I'm a little anxious to know what I did to set him off, to trigger him, but it might be best to let him recover first.

FUCK! Fuck! Fuck!
 

He’s going to be pissed off.
 

I fucking threw up, I panicked, fucking hell, I don’t even know what triggered me.
 

Breathing becomes easier the longer I’m bent over the toilet, but I’ve got to get up. I either need to apologize or leave.

“If you’re thinking about running out the door, you can forget it. I’m not going to let you,” he tells me from his perch on the doorjamb.

How the fuck did he know I was thinking about…I look at him, his features are soft with concern, but there isn’t a trace of pity in his features, not at all. In fact, it’s just adoration and concern.
 

“I pushed you too far.” His voice is soft and resentful.
 

I shake my head before flushing the toilet and slowly sliding onto the lid with my head down toward my knees.
 

“Then what happened?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I tell him and catch him as he pushes away from the portal and walks the few steps toward his tub where he sits down on the edge of it, facing me, but there is a lot of distance between us. I subconsciously start to fidget with my hands.
 

“Think about it, please. I’d really like to know what I did.” There is a shy innocence in his voice and it twists my heart.
 

“I don’t think you did anything, Eric. I was totally into it, so much so that I started to get hard…” I let the thought trail off.
 

“That’s what happened last night though you fought it.”
 

I shake my head. “I got hard earlier too and didn’t have the same reaction. I think that when you said I was pushing the limits of your control that my mind ran wild, ran away from me, and…” I take a deep breath, “I couldn’t hold it back. It swept over me so fast that…”
 

His face turns sad. “I’m so sorry.”
 

“Stop, Eric, damn it, don’t be like this, you can’t help my imagination,” I tell him in a rushed breath.
 

“I know, but if I hadn’t said anything…”
 

“I’m glad you did.”
 

He huffs. “But look at what happened, if I hadn’t said anything you wouldn’t have had to come in here and…”
 

“Okay, you need to stop right there,” I tell him sternly with more force than I feel right now. In fact, I feel weaker now than I ever have before and I don’t quite understand why. “I told you things like this were going to happen and I’ll be damned if I want you walking on eggshells with me.” I rub my sweaty palms across my thighs, attempting to dispel the sticky feeling. “I can’t accurately describe the war that is raging inside of me right now, but I think I need to try.” I watch as he nods. “Have you ever warred with yourself about something, like buying a new car or wanting something really bad, but you know you shouldn’t or that you can’t afford it?”
 

I watch as he processes my suggestion, no doubt thinking of a time when he’d had that thought process. “Or maybe deciding what was more important? Hmm,” I say with a hum. “Or like how to spend a hundred dollars…god,” I run my hand over my head, “Does this make any sense?”
 

“Yes, it does, and yes, I’ve been there before,” he tells me confidently.
 

“Okay, so take that and amplify that by putting a time limit on something, like deciding whether to get the blue or the yellow car.” He scoffs at me but smirks. “You know what I mean.” He nods his understanding. “Okay, say you’ve got twenty seconds to decide which one and at the end of that twenty seconds, they both disappear completely?”
 

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