Chapter 219

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Why did I do that?!

As soon as I asked him I knew I shouldn't have, but he responded so quickly saying he'd be here in ten minutes that I just couldn't take it back.. That was fifteen minutes ago and yes I'm fucking counting.

Liam is still unsettled but at this point I think he's just picking up on my own fucking anxiety.

It was one thing to see him at the party but now he's going to be in our... in my house. I know that Liam will appreciate having him here, I hadn't realised how solidified that bond still was until I saw them earlier, but I'm still a fucking wreck.

Breathing, remember breathing Josh? It generally fucking helps. Try it.

I just keep pacing the floor at the bottom of my bed, watching Liam twist and turn whilst keeping my eyes firmly glued on the window waiting for headlights.

Is that? No.

Oh wait that might be... no.

For fucks sake Josh, get a grip.

I don't know why I bothered worrying about looking for lights, the moment he got close I could fucking sense it.

It can't be like it was earlier, that was just a combination of all the pent up anxiety and finally seeing him again, this time it just has to be about Liam.

Nothing else.

My driveway fills with light, walking over to the window I expect to see the silver Merc he was driving before he lost his licence, but he's got something new. Black, muscle car, hot... Fuck, it suits him.

Of course he fucking got something new, he's signed to an NBA contract now Josh. He's grown and he's fucking changed. You don't truly know anything about him anymore...

I go to take a step out of the room when I realise I've got no fucking shirt on, there's a stupid part of me that just wants to answer the door like this but I can't do that if I just want to keep this about Liam.

You shouldn't be doing it anyway Josh, you are fucking engaged to another man.

I reach into the closet, going to pull down my favourite hoodie before pausing, my fingers stroking the soft fabric. I can't exactly wear this one.

He might want it back.

Instead I pull down one of my white crew necks and just about manage to pull it over my head without tumbling down the stairs as his fist hits the front door.

He's here... he's fucking here at your house.

I don't know why I check the peephole, I know who it fucking is, there's just a part of me that wants the extra minute while I still have this barrier between us.

He's changed too, his striking black suit from earlier replaced with washed out grey jeans and an extremely well fitted black t-shirt. I really need to ask him one day where he buys his fucking clothes, nothing I ever own fits me the way his stuff fits him.

He looks good in everything.

I didn't realise how long I've been standing here just looking at him until he takes a step back from the door and glances at the upstairs window before hesitating to knock again.

Shit.

Answering the door generally helps when you're trying to let someone into your fucking house Josh.

I pull the door open so quickly that he almost ends up knocking his hand against my chest, his knuckles lightly grazing against the fabric of my shirt before he pulls his hand back. This is so fucking weird, he looks so cool and calm, I'm riddled with nerves, it's like the very first time he came to my house all over again.

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