Dragons of Drupes by Anyta Sunday

Author:Anyta Sunday
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, gay, fantasy, young adult, dragons

It was one thirty when he got back. Under the gap of his door I saw the light from the hall. I couldn’t hear his footsteps and he opened his door slowly as if making sure it wouldn’t squeak and give him away.

The hall light went off, but he didn’t bother turning his bedroom light on. Not wanting to freak him out again, I shuffled on the chair.

“Who’s there?” he whispered.

“Me,” I said, and he hissed. Guess I didn’t need to clarify with a ‘Drake’.

“What do you want?”

I stretched out to tug his curtains until a small beam of sunlight filtered through, giving the room a faint bit of definition.

“You’re home late.”

“Depends on how you look at it. In New Zealand it’s pretty early.”

I moved off the chair. “Jack, we were worried.”

“Oh, are Faye and Terry here, too?” he said with an edge of sarcasm.

“No. Fine, I was worried.” He stopped shuffling in the room and a silence filled the space between us. “I mean, I’m sorry about earlier.”

He sighed and fell back onto his bed. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d been so cruel to you in Quincey’s office. But I guess I was just as much a dick.”

“It’s alright. No biggie.”

He turned his head in my direction. “Call it even?”

“Sure,” I said, watching as he kicked off his shoes and moved to his built-in closet.

When he dug his hand into his pocket as he opened the closet door, I frowned. I found myself getting up and crossing over to him. He chucked some pajamas on the bed and closed the closet; he was just turning away from it when I closed the last few meters between us.

I pressed my hand on the door so he was trapped by my body, but not touching. He didn’t even try to escape; he leaned back against the door and looked at me.

His brow furrowed with concern. “Your eye.”

“It’s fine. Deserved, even.”

He glanced at my lips and up again.

I brushed my hand against his jeans, feeling something hard in his pocket.

I leaned forward. “I’ve been thinking about this,” I said, and slid my fingers into his pocket. He grabbed my wrist but I shook him off, plunging deep into his pocket until I had my fingers around it. Then quickly withdrew them.

I flicked my lighter open and a flame flickered between us.

“Sorry, Drake,” he croaked, glancing away from me, shrinking back against the closet door. “I didn’t want you smoking anymore.”

All the times he’d put his hand in that exact pocket came back to me—he’d been carrying the lighter with him the whole time! I believed him when he said he didn’t want me smoking, but touching it so often—it was more than that. Suddenly things were becoming clearer. A lot clearer.

He liked touching something of mine.

I swallowed a sudden intake of air, almost coughing. My body felt as if it was shaking to its core, my pulse racing so fast Jack had to hear it. He liked touching something of mine? Because he—because he liked me? He liked me.

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