Page 63 of Every November

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Has it not always been like that for you?” he asks, voice coming out stronger with a hint of something that feels a lot like protection underneath.

Now I feel myself starting to shrink.

“Uh, no. Not always,” I admit, and this time, he gives me space to continue. “There was a guy in college. My first time bottoming, actually. He wasn’t exactly gentle about it, and I really didn’t know enough yet to ask for what I needed, or even that I was allowed to. I just kind of suffered through it, but it hurt. A lot.”

Marcus goes very still behind me. “Evan.”

“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” I try to keep my voice light, but his arm tightens slightly around my stomach. “I just didn't bottom again for like two years after that. Took me a while to actually enjoy it instead of just tolerating it.”

“That’s not fine,” he growls, an edge of real anger in his voice that isn’t directed at me. “That guy should’ve checked in with you. Should’ve paid attention instead of just taking what he wanted. God, I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

“I know that now.” I turn slightly in his arms so I can see part of his face. “It’s part of why this feels different with you. I don’t even know if you realize, but you’re observant, Marcus. Attentive. It’s like my body knew it was okay to trust you from the first night. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now.”

“I’d never hurt you, baby. Never.” His voice is soft in a way I haven’t really heard from him before.

“I know.” I press back into him, grateful and safe. “That’s exactly why I trust you.”

“You deserve that, every single time.”

I don’t say anything. I just turn in his arms until our mouths meet. It’s the kind of kiss that isn’t leading anywhere. It’s just comfort.

“I hate that tomorrow’s going to happen,” I admit into his shoulder when we pull apart.

“Me too.” His voice is rough as he says it.

“Maybe we could just stay up all night so we have more time together,” I suggest.

“We can try.” He laughs, but it fades quickly. “I don’t know how to keep doing this. Every time I drop you off, it gets harder.”

“I know, I feel the same. Please come visit me in Seattle.” I don’t pose it as a question, because I don’t want him to say no and we haven’t talked about it again since I briefly mentioned it this morning.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Maybe it’ll make missing you hurt less.”

He agrees so easily that it takes me a second to realize he said yes without a shred of hesitation. I swallow down the emotion that brings up in my chest because we’re finally saying all the words out loud. “Nothing makes that part hurt less.” I press a kiss to his forehead, then his nose, then his mouth. “I think it’s just supposed to be worth it anyway.”

“Is it? Worth it?”

“Every single time,” I nod. “I’d rather have a couple of days with you than a hundred days with anyone else. Even though I’d like to get that number higher.”

“Me too.”

We spend the rest of the night trading stories. At some point, his thumb finds the tiny scar on the back of my hand, and he asks where it’s from. I have to admit I don’t remember, and he looks almost offended, like I’ve wasted a perfectly good story.

“Make something up, then,” he requests.

So I do. By the end, it involves a bear, a canoe, and a very aggressive raccoon, and he’s laughing into my shoulder so hard the couch shakes.

Later, he gets up and puts on one of the records Paul picked out. The needle crackles, and music fills the apartment. He comes back and pulls me against his chest, and neither of us says a word until the first side ends. Neither of us gets up to flip it, either.

We just lie there until we finally move to his bed, and the whole time I try not to think about the goodbye waiting at the end of tomorrow's drive.

Or how much harder every single one gets.

CHAPTER 23

Marcus