Starting with the Unexpected (6 page)

Brandon gave him a startled look at the use of the name Ollie, but before he could say anything, El Creepo started up again. “I didn’t fucking do anything,” Davis yelled. “I was just visiting my boyfriend!”

“I believe the fact that I told you I never wanted to speak to you again after you fucked my sister means you’re my ex now,” Marcus pointed out mildly as Brandon knelt down and examined my eyes.

“You need to get a restraining order,” I said and hissed as Brandon pulled something out of his pocket and shined a light in my eyes. “Fuck. Warn me before you do things like that.”

“You’re fine,” Brandon said shortly. “Though Mom’s likely to be frantic when she sees your face. It’s already bruising.”

“She doesn’t need to know,” I told him, trying to narrow my eyes. Fuck, that hurt.

Brandon snorted as he stood. “She already knows. We were watching the news when Jordan called. She wanted me to tell you that if you live, you have to come over for dinner next Friday.”

“Fuck,” I spat. “I didn’t want to worry her.”

“Whatever” was Brandon’s only reply and he turned and walked away, leaving the rest of us to talk to the police.

W
HEN
I
wanted to spend the evening hanging out with Marcus, I didn’t mean to sit in a police station as we gave statements. It didn’t make for a good time. On the plus side, Jordan was able to beg off from his deliveries, and I was able to call in to work and let them know an emergency had come up, which meant we could all hang out until sleep beckoned. The three of us ended up dragging ourselves into the house bearing bags of fast food and a backpack stuffed with a change of clothes for Marcus. Jordan and I both informed him that he’d be staying at our place, at least for one night, if not more. There was no way we were going to let him stay at that apartment alone.

I dropped onto the couch and groaned. “We need to be at the courthouse when they open,” I told Marcus. “You’re filing a restraining order. Sorry, but I’m not giving you a choice.”

“He’s right, you know,” Jordan said. “I mean, he
did
assault Zach. And if he’s under some delusion that you’re still his boyfriend, he might not take it well if he finds out that you spend all your free time over here.”

“I’m so sorry,” Marcus said quietly. He’d been eerily silent for a while, and I could guess why.

“Quit beating yourself up,” I said. “None of this is your fault.”

“I’ll make Zach spank you if you apologize again,” Jordan added.

Marcus gave him a hint of a real grin. “Are you threatening me with a good time?”

I rolled my eyes, though it eased the knot inside me a little to see Marcus goofing around. “Sit down and eat,” I ordered. “And get me some ibuprofen or something.”

“On my way,” Jordan said, and he headed for the bathroom. Hopefully he could actually find the bottle. It had a tendency to wander.

Marcus carefully sat down next to me, probably to avoid jarring me, and cleared his throat. “So, what was up with your brother’s question about hitting on straight men?”

I groaned and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to have this discussion, but if there was one thing I’d learned about Marcus, it was that he was stubborn as hell when he wanted to know something. He was nice about it, mind you, but he was still stubborn as hell. “If I bribe you with the ice cream in the freezer, can I convince you to forget he said that?”

Marcus raised his eyebrow and waited silently, until I sighed. “Do you remember what I said? That how he treated me may or may not stem from an issue with his best friend?” I asked. “When I was a freshman in high school, my brother and his friends were seniors. One day Brandon’s best friend dragged me into a supply closet and tried to force me to suck him off. He said if I was going to be so open about being a cocksucker, he may as well make use of me.”

Marcus paled and raised his hand to his mouth in the universal gesture of horrified shock. I shrugged. “I got away from him,” I assured Marcus. “But not before he was able to give me a black eye. When Brandon tried to find out what happened, his best friend accused me of hitting on him and trying to coerce him into messing around with me.”

“And he believed that idiot?” Marcus demanded.

“That seems to have been the case,” I sighed. “My parents didn’t, though. My brother was banned from spending time with him, and he’s held it against me ever since.”

“That’s so many kinds of fucked up that I can’t even describe it,” Marcus said, a pinched expression on his face. He brushed my hair out of my eyes and then settled his arm over my shoulders. “You deserve better.”

“I miss him,” I admitted. “The old Brandon, the one who used to laugh when I called him Bran Muffin, and who used to call me Olive Loaf.” I turned my head and made a face at him. “Have I mentioned that I hate my middle name?”

“You may have mentioned that once or twice,” Marcus agreed with a grin.

“Anyway I don’t seem to have the ability to fix whatever happened between us. He’s vague enough with his comments when my parents are around that they don’t notice it, but when they aren’t around….”

“Yeah, I kind of picked up on that.”

Jordan rejoined us then, tossing a bottle in my direction as he did. It landed harmlessly in my lap, and I popped it open.

“Movie?” he suggested as he sat at the other end of the couch.

“Whatever you’d like,” I said. “To be honest, my head hurts too much for me to maintain any semblance of concentration right now. If you guys want to play video games, go ahead. Courthouse opens at eight thirty.”

“I’ll probably need to take a nap in a few hours,” Marcus warned us. “I don’t usually stay up as late as you guys do.”

“We’ll let you sleep when you need it,” I promised. “When we’re done at the courthouse, we can come back and crash.”

“In that case, take your ibuprofen and eat your dinner,” Marcus told me. “You can sit back and watch while I kick Jordan’s ass.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Jordan challenged.

I chuckled, swallowed the pills, and grabbed my bag of food. “I vote that we make sure the rest of the evening is less interesting than it started out.”

“Amen to that,” Marcus agreed.

A
FTER
A
morning spent at the less-than-exciting courthouse with a worried Jordan in tow, we came back to the house and Jordan and I made certain Marcus had enough pillows and blankets to curl up with on our couch and headed into our respective rooms. I didn’t feel too bad about making him sleep out there, as it wasn’t
an exaggeration to say that the couch was one of the most
comfortable pieces of furniture I’d ever had the pleasure of napping on.

So after I said a quick good night, I took another round of painkillers and went to my own bed. I was pretty sure I’d still wake up with a headache, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. Weirder things have happened, right?

Unfortunately I was absolutely right about the headache being there when I woke. I groaned a little, and it took me a minute to realize something was different about my bed. I had my arm draped over something warm that hadn’t been there when I went to sleep. Something warm that was breathing. I tried to open my eyes and managed to only get one to cooperate thanks to the swelling in the one Davis had smacked. When I was finally able to focus, I was greeted by the sight of Marcus’s back. Thank God I’d slept in my sweatpants. I wasn’t sure I would have survived being naked in bed with him, even if I’d been the only naked one.

I carefully scooted a little closer, trying not to move my head. I angled myself so I could use my upper body to cuddle up to his back without grinding my dick against his ass. Not that I didn’t want to, but it wouldn’t have been polite. I mean, the guy was still sleeping.

My wiggling must have woken him, because he patted my arm and gave me a sleepy “You okay?”

“Somebody has been lying in my bed,” I mumbled and gave him a fond squeeze. “And here he is.”

Marcus gave a snort as he turned to face me. “You’re no bear.”

“And you’re no Goldilocks, but it was still funny,” I said. “Good morning.”

“Good evening,” Marcus corrected with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone tried to give me a lobotomy with a baseball bat.” No point in trying to hide how much pain I was in, considering Marcus would probably know I was lying anyway. “I’d offer to give you my firstborn if you bring me the ibuprofen, but since I don’t really want kids, that wouldn’t work.”

“Yeah, thanks anyway,” Marcus said. He gave me a look like I’d offered him a week-long vacation in a sewage processing plant. “No kids. I’d be a really bad parent. If you wanted to bribe me, you should have offered me something that actually interested me. You know, like really good cheesecake or a hand job or something.”

“Or both,” I said. “At the same time.” I frowned, then shook my head before I could remember that moving my head would be a really bad idea. “No, that would just be messy. It would probably work better if it was cheesecake and a blowjob.”

Marcus groaned and rolled away from me, dragging himself to a sitting position. “I don’t suppose you’d be amenable to the whole friends with benefits concept, would you?”

“I’d roll my eyes at you, but it would hurt,” I sighed. “Painkillers? Please?”

He climbed out of bed and shivered a little as he abandoned the warm blankets for me. He planted a kiss on my forehead and shuffled out of the room, leaving me behind as a melted puddle of Zach. It was kind of funny, considering he’d only kissed my forehead.

He took longer than I expected. At first, I figured the bottle had migrated again, but after several minutes, I gave serious thought to trying to get out of bed to find him. When I’d just about reached the point where I was gathering the courage to lift my head, he came back, the bottle in one hand and a mug in the other.

“Sorry,” he apologized as he returned to the bed and placed the cup and bottle on the nightstand. He helped me sit up just enough that I’d be able to get some pills in me, his hands gentle. When he was sure I was comfortable where I was, he handed me the tea. “Jordan told me how you take it.”

I nearly snorted the tea I’d started to sip. “Now
that’s
a loaded statement,” I teased weakly.

“I was talking about your tea, you perv,” he said fondly, shook a couple pills into his hand, and offered them to me. “Want some ibuprofen?”

“God yes,” I croaked. The pain was getting worse the longer I was awake. I popped the pills into my mouth and washed them down with another swallow of tea.

“If that doesn’t help, I’m taking you to the hospital,” Marcus informed me. “I don’t give a shit about how much you don’t want to or about the fact that your brother said you were fine.”

“I’ve had migraines worse than this,” I told him. It was an effort to reassure him, but I could tell it hadn’t worked when his frown deepened. “I don’t get them often,” I promised. “I’m just saying I’ve dealt with worse. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m glad I’m not working tonight,” he said, and he very carefully sat down next to me. “Someone needs to be able to keep an eye on you. You should probably go back to sleep once you’ve finished your tea, if you can. Maybe the ibuprofen will have kicked in by the time you wake back up.”

“I’ll need your help first,” I told him. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” Marcus said firmly, his brow wrinkling. “What do you need?”

I looked at him over the edge of my mug and smirked. “I need help getting to the bathroom. My bladder’s telling me good morning.”

“What? Don’t want to sleep in a wet bed?” Marcus asked.

“Hey. I have no issues sleeping in the wet spot, but not when my bladder’s involved,” I said.

He barked a short laugh, obviously surprised. “I’ll remember that when I bring over the cheesecake.”

“You do that,” I said, my smirk turning into a real grin as I handed the empty mug back to him. “Now help me up before I explode.”

Not only did he help me to the bathroom and back, but he climbed back under the covers with me, made sure the quilt was pulled up over our shoulders, and rested his arm over me. It was an echo of the position we’d been in earlier, and I sighed happily as I fell back to sleep.

W
HEN
I
woke up again a couple of hours later, I was overjoyed to discover that my headache was reduced to a minor and much more tolerable throb. Marcus was still in bed with me, but we’d shifted in our sleep, and I was the big spoon again.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

“No,” I answered just as softly. “I’m talking in my sleep.”

Marcus giggled. The happy chirp carried an edge of grogginess as it bubbled up. God, I loved the sounds he made. “You sound like you’re feeling better.”

“Much,” I admitted. I carefully moved my head a fraction to judge how much pain I was in. “The headache’s still there, but it’s nowhere near as bad.” Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed his shoulder. “So, not that I’m complaining, but weren’t you planning on sleeping on the couch?”

“I was,” Marcus admitted in a small voice. “But then I started dreaming. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t….”

“Don’t apologize,” I told him and hugged him close. “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to come in here if you were having nightmares. Besides, it was nice to wake up to you in my bed.”

“I….” His words trailed off before Marcus rolled around to face me, his expression serious. “Look. I get why you wanted to wait, but I’m pretty sure it’s obvious that I’m not crying over Davis. Not anymore.”

I nodded. What he was saying was true. It had become obvious over the weeks he’d spent hanging out with Jordan and me that he wasn’t missing his ex at all. “So what are you asking, then?”

Marcus took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip. When he finally answered, he spoke so fast that eight words became one. “Willyougoonadatewithme?”

I grinned. “I think you just broke the speed of sound. Did you ask me on a date, or were you speaking in tongues?”