Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
He didn’t even know Damon well enough to know what spending the night together meant to him. If it was something casual, or if he was someone who needed emotional investment to even be able to touch someone, kiss them, be with them. Or if it was somewhere in between, where he could be casual but this wasn’t, or maybe it was a moment of impulse for him too, and now he was just as caught and lost as Rian in wondering just...just...
Where they went now.
If they talked to each other, if they felt anything, if those feelings were mutual.
Or if they just wrote it off.
One night that served a purpose; a balm on wounds that were no longer so raw and vulnerable this morning, the bleeding effectively stanched when they had just...just...
Used each other.
Or maybe you just used him.
Rian’s chest felt it was crushing in, some fist cracking his ribs and pulverizing them until they collapsed on themselves, and he swallowed thickly, turning his face away and hiding it in his arm, as if he could keep Damon from noticing. As if he could hide this sudden whiplash of emotion that cracked through his sleepy morning contentment and left it in tatters, his heart sinking with the weight of...
Of just how fucking thoughtless he was.
So thoughtless that he didn’t deserve to ask Damon for anything.
He couldn’t stop the harsh sound that hitched in his throat—which meant there was no way to prevent the way Damon’s arm abruptly went hard and tense against him, and a rough, worried growl rose in Damon’s throat. His hand splayed against Rian’s back, broad, protective.
“Oh—oh, fuck,” Damon said, words tumbling just a little too quickly. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you? I knew this was a bad idea, I’m sorry, I—”
I knew this was a bad idea.
Rian squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in deep.
Fuck.
That just cemented it.
He was a lousy, selfish piece of shit.
Plain and simple.
But he wasn’t going to make Damon deal with that, wasn’t going to make Damon comfort him or ease his thoughts or reassure him about anything. He could deal with his feelings himself; he’d already spilled too many all over Damon and left Damon apologizing constantly for being a jackass as if Rian wasn’t always antagonizing him.
Well.
They antagonized each other, but...
Rian could at least not put Damon in the awkward position of dealing with him now.
Especially if that was how Damon felt.
This was a bad idea.
Okay. Okay, Rian could accept that and not...not...be terrible about it.
He could.
So he gathered himself together, breathing in again and again until his knotted chest started to loosen, blinking his stinging eyes until he was sure they were clear, before he lifted his head from its hiding place against his arm and tried to offer a reassuring smile.
“No—no, I’m fine. It... I wasn’t hurt.” He searched over Damon’s face—his features drawn tight with creased lines of concern, lips parted. “Were you?”
“No.” Damon shook his head slowly, looking at Rian as if he’d grown a pair of horns. “Not hurt. Just...you know. That was a little sudden. Us fucking.”
“It was,” Rian agreed. “But like we said...we’re adults.” He bit his lip; he felt like he was doing something horrid here, retreating behind this careful practicality, but what the hell else was he supposed to do? “I think we can manage to keep being coworkers after a one-night stand.”
Damon looked as if he stopped breathing for a moment. His expression completely blanked, and slowly his arm drew back from around Rian, that reassuring warmth gone as Damon settled to prop himself up on one elbow, looking at Rian with dark brown eyes so completely neutral it was almost worse than that coldness Rian remembered from that first day in his studio.
“One-night stand,” Damon repeated, sounding out each word one careful syllable at a time. Not quite a question; not quite...anything.
“That’s... I...” Rian’s throat closed; he curled his hands against his chest, trying not to touch Damon too close when it seemed as if they were both putting up walls. “Do we have to fight about this?”
After several long moments, Damon rumbled, “No.” Grave, but sincere, and he sighed, that forbidding expression softening slightly—but giving away very little, and Rian realized...at some point, Damon had started to let Rian see him, but now...now that was gone, replaced by a careful withdrawal that wasn’t unkind or even lacking warmth, no, but it was most certainly...wary. “I don’t want to fight with you. We do a lot better when we’re not fighting, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Rian agreed softly. “... Damon, I...” He caught himself starting to reach for Damon, then jerked back, knotting his hands together so he’d keep them to himself. He couldn’t think straight. This felt all wrong, and he thought he’d just made things worse, but he didn’t know how to fix it now. So he just tried, “Last night we were both vulnerable. Hurting.” Maybe if he could explain it away as a logical, pragmatic thing, he could just...clear this tight, choking feeling in the air. “And I’m... I’m grateful to you that we could comfort each other, but...”