Yes, I Am

Chapter Three.

"Are you gonna tell me what pissed you off?" asked Caleb casually.

We were sprawled across the floor, leaning against the back of the couch in the living room. His arm was lying over the couch, stretched out behind me, my neck pressed against it as I leaned on it.

"I had lunch with my mother today. She can be- how do I put this delicately?- a bitch," I said.

"What did she do?"

"For starters, she threatened to disown me. Again. And coming from her, it's not just a line. She actually means it."

"But why?" It was so adorable how he was actually confused.

I sighed, all the sarcasm leaving me. "Because I'm a constant disappointment. I can't be the guy she wants me to be."

"Are you kidding me? You're awesome. How can someone be disappointed in you?" He pulled me closer until my head was on his shoulder and started playing with my hair in a comforting way.

"I've always been a nerd. I preferred to read rather than go out and fight with the other boys about who can kick the ball first. And then I went on to get a degree in literature which, according to my parents, is useless and career suicide. I can't be The Typical Son and that makes them want to die in shame."

"This isn't the twentieth century. A degree in literature is tough and prestigious. We break our bones on the field because that's the only way we can get into college. You're smart enough to get into one without it. Your parents must know that," he said.

I knew he was just saying that to make me feel better but it felt good nonetheless. It warmed me to see him trying to cheer me up. It wasn't something anyone had ever done before. Even my best friend would merely tell me to man up and forget the A-holes.

That was the problem with this world. Girls were taught to be pretty. Guys were taught to be tough. No one was ever taught to be smart or kind or a good human being. Then they say the world has no humanity. Of course it doesn't. If you teach your kids to be barbie dolls and animals, that's what they'll be.

"It's been years since I've talked to my father. He has pretty much disowned me. And my mother threatens me fifteen times to do the same every time we meet. I think it's safe to say they don't know that," I said.

"Then they're the biggest idiots on the face of the earth. You're damn smart and I'm very, very proud of you." He pressed his lips to my temple and every nerve cell in my body experienced a simultaneous current of electricity and warmth traveling at the speed of light.

I scooped a spoon full of ice cream and stuffed it in his mouth. "Tell me, Caleb, is that sweeter than you?"

He clamped a hand over his mouth as he tried to control his laughter while glaring at me. He tightened his hold around my shoulders so I couldn't escape, as if I wanted to, his expression promising an amused retribution. He had no idea how fucking cute he looked.

"Why don't you taste me and tell me if it is?" he said, his voice lowered into a seductive growl.

My mind wasn't working any longer. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to more than taste him. His moist lips were a sinner's synagogue, carrying the power to create a pool of desire in anyone in his vicinity and I was more than willing to drown. My eyes flicked to his lips and back to his hazel eyes smoldered into a husky golden.

I didn't notice how close we had leaned into each other until I heard the sound of the front door being thrown open, effectively throwing a bucket of ice water on anything between me and Caleb, and I jumped up in fright, suddenly scared of what was happening. Like someone had tasered me, I untangled myself from Caleb before whoever was at the door could see us, pointedly ignoring the hurt that crossed over his features.