Page 29 of Jealous Guy

This is the reason I’m like this too. The reason I can’t get over my fixation with him, no matter what I do. He’s the best person I’ve ever met, and no one has ever come close to comparing to him.

I don’t think anyone ever will.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I dissolve into the pressure completely. I don’t fight or shrug him off. I lean into it, and when he slides his hand around the back of my neck and applies pressure there too, I lean into that even more.

Somewhere between the fever and the night that wouldn’t end, the wall I’ve tried so hard to put up between us got demolished. It’s in tatters. Dust. Ashes. All my usual defenses against him are toast. Nothing’s stopping me from letting him get close to me now, and nothing’s warning me not to take it the wrong way.

The truth I’ve spent so much time trying to hide simmers in my chest, rising alongside my unhinged laughter. The funny thing is that right now, I don’t mind it. I don’t hate it at all. With Jordan’s hand on me, I don’t think who I am is a bad thing.

With his hand on me, I think who I am might be a good thing. Maybe even a beautiful thing.

I test the words out in my mind, letting them form and imagining what they would sound like if I said them aloud. I’m gay. It doesn’t sound nearly as aggressive or confronting as usual. I’m gay. It sounds real and okay. I’m gay. It sounds like the kind of thing people say and keep living their lives without the world ending around them.

We pull up at the drive-through window, and Jordan hands in my script.

“When we get home, I want you to have a good dinner and take your meds,” he says. He’s adopted a weird dad-ish persona, all uptight and stern, and fuck me if I don’t find that hot too. “I’ve made some nice chicken soup for you, and I want you to eat a whole bowl of it. You heard what the doc said. We’ve got to keep your fluids up. This shit is serious.”

“But, but you don’t know how to make chicken soup.”

He shoots me a closed-mouth side-eye. “There are lots of things you don’t know about me, Orion.”

13

Jordan

Orion seemed to be doing a little better after we left urgent care, but by the time we get home, I can tell he’s flagging. He takes a shower, locking the door even though I told him to leave it unlocked in case I need to get to him. He thinks I’m overreacting, but I’m not. The doctor said he has a very bad case of the flu. Doctors don’t say things like that unless they mean it.

He looks like hell when he gets out of the bathroom. All shaky and unsteady and squirrely about letting me help him get dressed. He slumps onto his bed, and I prop him up with some pillows so he’s sitting up. He’s going to eat the soup I made, and that’s the end of it. He’s barely eaten in days, and there’s no way I’m going another minute without knowing he has something good in his belly.

We don’t have a tray in the apartment, so I put the bowl of soup on a wooden chopping board and carry it to him like that, taking care not to spill it.

“Not really all that hungry,” he mumbles when he sees me.

“I know,” I say firmly, “but you’re going to eat anyway.”

He makes a face but doesn’t move away when I sit next to him. I put a pillow on his lap, placing the board holding the bowl of soup on it. Not owning a tray is more of an issue than I thought, so I make a mental note to buy one as soon as I find out where people buy things like that, in case Orion ever gets this sick again.

He stirs the soup lethargically and tries to bring a spoonful of it up to his mouth. His hand shakes so badly as he does it that there’s barely a drop on the spoon by the time it gets close to his lips.

I take the spoon from him, bracing for a big argument, but he’s so weak the best he can do is roll his eyes unsteadily at me. I scoop up a spoonful, making sure I get a nice mix of chicken and veggies, and raise it to my lips. I blow on it until I’m positive it isn’t too hot and then offer it to him. To my relief, he takes it, swallowing it down with a soft sigh.

“’S good,” he says after the third or fourth mouthful.

“And there you were, doubting my soup-chef abilities. When you’re better, I’m going to make you pay for that.”

It rouses a halfhearted smile out of him, and as always, the sight of Orion looking happy does something to me. Something good and settling. The same feeling I get when I’ve had a long day, and I finally get home.

Getting the soup into him is slow going, and it’s a lot harder to feed him without making a mess than I thought it would be. It’s easier if I put my hand around the back of his neck and keep him in place by fisting his hair gently. The poor guy is super sleepy. His eyes flutter shut between mouthfuls and his head rolls back against my hand.

Orion goes to sleep straight after dinner. I clean up the apartment, do a load of laundry, and watch a little TV. Every twenty minutes or so, I look in on him. He’s out for the count. He’s sleeping so deeply that he hasn’t moved since he fell asleep, and I think that’s a good thing.

I could probably sleep in my own bed tonight, but I don’t want to. The thing most people don’t know about me is that I need Orion a lot more than he needs me. People who know us probably think it’s the other way around because I’m more extroverted than he is, but they’re wrong. I know I’m important to him and that he loves me a lot, but he’s someone who’s kind of okay on their own, and I’m not. I thought I was, but after I got to know him back in high school, I realized I hadn’t really been okay until I met him. At least, I hadn’t been as happy as I am when I’m around him. I used to dread the days he was absent from school, and I still hate it when he hangs out with people without me. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth.

We could have lived in a dorm when we got to college, but I pushed for us to get an apartment. I told O it was because I thought he’d be happier without so many people around, but really, it was because I wanted to spend all my time with him. Because a not-so-great part of me wanted him all to myself.

I’ve been fine up to now with him being sick because I’ve been so busy helping him, but now that everything’s quiet and I’ve run out of things to do, it’s hitting me how much I fucking hate him being sick. I’ve always hated it when anything upsets him, but usually, there’s something I can do about it. Now that it’s dark and the day is done, all I can think about is how un-okay I’d be if anything ever happened to Orion.

Once I’ve taken a shower and am ready for bed, I pad down the hall to check on him one last time. He’s lying on his side, curled up with his back to the door. He hasn’t moved since he fell asleep. I tiptoe around to his side of the bed and fire the thermometer at him. It lights up green.