Page 25 of Balance

I paused to look back, and I shot him a smile that I hoped conveyed the elation surging through me.

“Good boy.”

If I thought I was a goner before, the way a million things passed through his expression when I told him he was good would have hooked me for sure. Troye was the perfect storm of a man. Bright and bratty. A bit rough around the edges, but so fucking earnest and sweet that it took my breath away.

He needed someone to show him that he was worthy. That he was better than he told himself he was.

Troye needed me.

And I was beginning to think that I needed him too.

CHAPTER 13

TROYE

Work kept Matthew and me apart for the next week, but that was okay. We texted often, and I sent a million memes as I’d warned him I would. I was a menace. It couldn’t be helped. Living my life as a chronically online streamer meant that I connected with people in different ways. And one of my favorite things to do was to collect little things that people might find interesting, or funny, or happy, and I liked to forward them.

I was still figuring out what made Matthew tick, so some of the memes I sent were pretty random, but he responded with the appropriate emojis. Sometimes he tried to turn the conversation to something more serious, and it wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk about those things—they were important. They were the basic getting-to-know-you questions. What’s your family like? What kind of childhood trauma did your parents give you? Do you have any siblings? Have you ever killed a man? Standard post-first date questions.

Eventually he’d get an answer out of me. I grew up poor, with poor parents who didn’t know what to do with a gay kid. To be fair to them, they didn’t know what to do with me when they thought I was straight either.

We don’t talk much. I told him that. I didn’t tell him why. The why felt like an open sore, and I hated poking at it. The pain was still too fresh. Too raw. Someday I’d have to tell him that I had to block my parents and had at one time considered taking out a restraining order, but you can’t get one for people who are harmless but annoying.

Eventually, text messages became phone calls. Matthew started calling me at bedtime. After I tucked myself under the covers, Matthew would call and we’d talk. Hearing his voice and seeing his face was a lot better than texting, but it still wasn’t good enough.

I missed him. I missed the way he looked at me and how I could feel the heat of his gaze whenever he let it linger on me. I missed the feeling of having his attention, and even that wasn’t the same over the phone. Without his gentle touches, like him reaching for my hand or my face, without him here to draw me close, I felt adrift.

Settled in for the night, I waited for Matthew to call. We had a routine now and after I sent a text telling him I was in bed, my phone screen lit up with his name. I hadn’t changed it to Daddy, yet… but maybe one day. I hadn’t called him Daddy since our date, but I thought about it all the time. In my head, he was Daddy. In my head, he was Daddy when I sent him a stupid meme and Daddy when he texted me asking how my day went. He was Daddy when we talked about the game he was developing, and he was Daddy when he told me goodnight and made me end our call.

My phone screen flashed to life, and I answered the call, eager to see him.

His face lit up when he saw me. Or maybe I imagined it did, but either way it made my insides fuzzy and warm. Something about Matthew’s presence, even on a phone call, made the world go soft around the edges.

Safe. He made me feel safe, and that didn’t make sense to me because I’d never really been unsafe, not in any way that I could recall. My parents were bad at parenting when I was a kid, and we were poor, but I wasn’t unsafe. My job wasn’t exactly high risk. But when Matthew was around, it was as if I’d never known what it was like to be protected before. To be important enough to someone for them to do something as kind as start my car for me so I could stay warm.

“How was your day?” I barely bit back the Daddy that wanted to roll off my tongue. Matthew looked haggard, his eye bags had eye bags, but he still managed to shine when he smiled at me.

“Exhausting.”

He stretched, and I wished I were there to comfort him. I’d never given a massage before, so I’d likely be shit at it, but he made me want to try.

My ache for him had cracked my foundation and now instead of a fracture, it was a gaping canyon.

“I don’t stream tomorrow.” I told him.

“I know.” Matthew smiled at me. “You take Thursdays off because they’re your slowest day for web traffic.”

“I know you work, but… I could come over tonight. If you want. You can say no if you don’t want company. I promise it’s not a big deal. We’re both in bed already.”

“Troye, I’d love for you to come over tonight.”

I was out of bed before he finished his sentence just in case he was going to try and add a but at the end. But there was no but. There was no statement to rip the rug out from under me.

“I’ll text you my address.” Matthew already looked better, lighter somehow.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“Don’t break any traffic laws. I’d rather have you here and whole five minutes later.”