The Art of Trust

TOM WELLS

A month had passed since I last saw Ghost. I would've called but Ghost didn't own any form of technology. I vaguely remembered the neighborhood he lived in, but there was no one there when I went to visit. After running around town looking for him, I finally realized that what I thought I knew about Tobias Mitchel was nonexistent. He was still a mystery, even to me.

I slammed the shot class down on the bar, making Larson glance over at me. He was taking a break, deciding to have a drink with me. I smiled at him, trying to reassure him and myself that everything was okay.

"He'll come back, Tom." Larson said in that gruff voice of his. He threw a arm around my shoulder, taking another shot of whatever kind of liquor was in there.

"He better," I grumbled, shrugging his arm off. He looked offended so, I smiled again, ruffling his hair even though he was not the type to ruffle. Larson was made of broad muscle, red hair, and narrow eyes that calculated every chance he got. I stood up, about to leave when he grabbed my arm.

"He's gonna be okay," He said, staring hard into my eyes. He finally let go of my arm and walked over to the entrance now that his break was over. I rolled my shoulders and continued walking back to my office. It was purposely secluded from everything else.

I went over to the mini fridge I kept tucked away in the corner, turning around abruptly at hearing the door open.

"Ghost?" I said. He was the only one I ever let come in without knocking. I could feel all the tension leave my body as he came into view. I quickly grabbed him and hugged the life out of him while he gently patted me.

Noticing other presences in the room, I pull back to see a mop of curly hair, the bright color hurting my eyes. Icy blue eyes, platinum hair, cute smile. This had to be Noah. I smiled as big as I could, internally grateful that I got to meet the boy holding Ghost's heart captive.

I complimented him and watch him blush as he held out his hand. Noah shifted and I was so close to bursting out laughing at the irony. Of course it had to be him of all people. Slim legs, bony knees, long blonde hair tied back, the strings dipping into bright green eyes. Holy fuck.

I vaguely remember asking Ghost who the hell was standing in front of me. Samuel King. Fuck yes, he could be my king. I harshly bit down on my lip because I was a grown fucking man acting like a teenager again.

"Tom," I introduced, eagerly reaching out to touch soft skin. He wouldn't look at me, so I eyed the blush coating his cheeks. Oh fucking hell, please let him be gay.

We sat down on the couch, but I couldn't keep myself from glancing over at him. He wouldn't keep still. His leg was bouncing uncontrollably, and he'd fidget with his hands occasionally. He was so... good. He was cute, and innocent with his big wide eyes and adorable twitches, and I swear I was listening to Ghost, I really was.

When they began to stand, I felt a tug in my chest. What if this was a one time thing? There was no guarantee I'd see Sammy again, none at all.

"I'd like to spend a little more time with Samuel, if you don't mind." I said slowly, explaining that I'd take him home. I was hoping that Sammy would trust me since Ghost did. I was still a stranger, but damn, I did never learn to let go.

Ghost shot me a look, and I rolled my eyes discreetly. Noah asked Sammy if that was okay with him and to my surprise, he said yes. Someone was totally fucking with me. Noah and Ghost exited my office, and I awkwardly turn to see Sammy leaning against my desk.

"Did you wanna kidnap me?" He asked jokingly, tapping his fingers against the wood. My mouth suddenly became dry at the sound of such a mellifluous voice. It was unusually deep, but soft in a unnatural way.

I chuckled, "Not my thing."

He reached up to untie his hair, letting the locks brush his skin. His hair stopped just above his chin.

"What is your thing?" He asked, straightening up. The atmosphere changed, and I rolled my shoulders, very uncertain.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, trying to look him in the eyes but even with his confidence he still wouldn't look at me.

"Why'd you ask me to stay?" He asked, glancing at the carpet as he waited for my answer.

"... I've seen you before... on Mel Street." I responded, and finally those eyes met mine. Innocence, so much fucking innocence.

But the words that came out of his mouth next were nothing of the sort.

"Did you wanna... do things to me? Is that why?" He asked, beginning to unbutton the shirt he was wearing.

I held a hand for him to stop and he did, pulling him self atop my desk, part of his chest exposed to me.

I laughed in disbelief, shaking my head, "How old are you?"

He looked me in the eyes for a second time, "Seventeen."

That's when I grounded my self, already feeling the self loathing. Of course he's still a teenager, you idiot. I so badly wanted to crawl into my bed and scream into the pillows.

I let a breath of air out, "You're still a kid. I'm sorry for this. It won't happen again. I'll take you home, as promised."

I walked over to fetch my keys, and he watched me, until he didn't.

"I can make my own decisions... Tom," He said my name in such a certain tone that it made me freeze.

I gazed at his youthful face, couldn't believe the words coming out of such innocent lips.

"You're too good," I said, snorting before grabbing my jacket off the coat hanger. Samuel hadn't moved from his spot on my desk, his shirt still undone.

"I'll be bad for you."

There. The very words that burned my core.

didn't expect that did you? DID YOU?
- mason