Page 39 of Conceal

Tatiana

Lev leaves to chop wood, even though we still have plenty that he bought. I think he needed some space. Roman has sexy glasses on as he reads one of the books from the bookshelf, and Mikhail sits across from me, frowning at the chessboard. He’s always been better at chess than me, but it’s still fun to play him. He’s so patient and thoughtful; he’s always six steps ahead. And I just can’t be bothered.

But the silence is driving me out of my skin. Yes, I’m sore, but not done by a long shot. While I’ve always loved reading about sex, I’d only ever lived vicariously through words on a page. Now that I’ve had the real thing, I don’t want to stop. Knowing we have an end date makes me feel like a pressure cooker.

I want all the sex.

I don’t understand how Roman is just casually reading, and how Mik can concentrate on chess.

But then I remember his tattoos. How do I ask him about them? I want to know if he’s always wanted me, but what do I do with his answer? If his answer is yes, I’ll feel terrible that he’s been right in front of me this entire time and I never saw it. If he says ‘no’, where does that leave us?

Because I think I’ve loved him this entire time. It wasn’t sexual, even though he’s gorgeous, in an emo type of way, but it’s his personality; his soul. It’s the way he takes care of me without me ever having to ask. It’s how he anticipates what I need and always provides without effort. It’s in how he holds me and talks to me; like I’m someone important.

Because let’s be honest - I’m not someone important. My parents treated me like a houseplant growing up. I was watered and fed, and as long as I didn’t throw a tantrum, I was allowed to do whatever I wanted.

My mom’s matchmaking is bitter proof of how much she wants to get rid of me.

I don’t have friends, besides Mik and Lev and Roman to an extent - even though he’s tried to keep me at an arm’s length, I consider him a friend.

And that’s when it dawns on me. The thought strikes through me like lightning.

I love love.

But I have no idea what love actually is.

Disney is a lame example of love. A woman sees a man and “falls in love”. But what the fuck does that actually mean? And then we’re supposed to believe they lived happily ever after?

But of course, that doesn’t happen in real life.

I love Mikhail. I love his steadfastness, his thoughtfulness, his care. I love that I’m the only person who truly knows him. I’ve always loved him. I chose to love him from the moment I saw him, wet and bloodied in that alley.

Is that what love is? Choosing the other person?

It was just never romantic, because we were friends. What is romantic love anyway? Dinner dates? Flowers?

Do I even want that?

No. I can buy myself flowers, and I enjoy a quiet evening in with Mik more than dining out. I want my person. I want to know that I’m seen and chosen, even when I’m having ugly moments. And I want to choose that person right back, every day. I want to love them and support them, and be what they need.

I threw on pajamas before we decided to play chess, but Mik’s still shirtless and I let my eyes devour his skin. Pale skin, painted with my artwork, covers more muscles than I thought he had. Large, wide pecs sit atop cut abs; even relaxed and slouched forward like his is, he’s gorgeous. His shoulders, biceps, forearms, even his hands are sexy.

How I never noticed how hot he was before, I’ll never know. I’m an idiot.

“You’re staring,” he says, his eyes never leaving the board.

I want to lick every inch of him.

Fuck chess.

I stand, swipe my hand across the board, letting the plastic pieces fly onto the floor dramatically.

Mik suppresses a grin.

I stand up and move to sit on the board, demanding his full attention. I don’t give him a moment to object before I have his face in both of my hands and his lips on mine.

His lips are warm and soft, and he opens for me, letting my tongue dance with his. I’m instantly turned on again. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to kissing him. I love the feel of his piercings against my tongue, the way he turns completely pliant beneath me, like he’s been holding his breath and can finally release it with me.

This big, strong, stoic man melting for me might be one of my favorite things in the world. I know he doesn’t see it, but the way girls watch him on campus always bothered me. He’s got this edgy, bad-boy aura that attracts attention. It’s always bothered me, but I could never put a finger on why. I want to see him date. I want to see him happy. But that territorial little voice in the back of my head always screamed ‘mine!’ whenever girls would stare.