It's Worse Than You Think

I did it. I actually did it. I don’t know where I finally got the fucking courage, but look where it’s gotten me. I’ve been dating Zeke for two days now.

Seriously, it’s hard to believe that he actually likes me back. Obviously, that was the ending scenario that I was hoping for when I blurted out everything, but he could have felt the complete opposite. And it puts a smile on my face when I realize that Zeke doesn’t.

I swear I’m not trying to sound creepy, and he’s my boyfriend now anyways so it shouldn’t matter, but he is a really good fucking kisser. Even though it only lasted a few seconds, I’m still thinking about it.

I sighed as I handed some older woman her coffee, plastering a smile on my face as she handed me her money and turned away. It’s so weird working here at Bridgeport without Finn. Everytime I get a stupid ass customer, or I want to talk about something, I don’t have anyone to turn to here. I’m not friends with any of my other co-workers, partially because they’re douche bags, and partially because I could care less about any of them. And without Finn, I start to remember how much this job sucks.

I glanced up at the clock above my head, frowning. Two o’clock. One more hour.

--

I sat down by the front window, waiting patiently for Zeke. I think I’m going to ask him to come over to my place today. He’s only been there once, which is kind of ridiculous the more I think about. I’m nineteen, I should be having people over all the Goddamn time.

Not two minutes later I saw Zeke heading down the sidewalk, walking towards the coffee shop door. He paused momentarily to stomp out a cigarette, bending over and throwing it away before heading inside. My nose wrinkled slightly at the sight of him smoking. It doesn’t really bother me that he smokes, I’m not going to judge or criticize him because I know what it does for him, I just don’t like thinking about how much damage it’s actually doing to his body.

I cleared my throat when he walked right past me, and he whirled around, a gorgeous smile appearing on his lips when he realized it was me.

“Sorry if I’m late, I had to pick up an earlier shift at Quimby’s. Why are you sitting up front?”

I grinned, standing up. “I was thinking that maybe we could hang out at my place instead of staying here like we usually do.”

He nodded immediately, “Sure! I love your apartment.”

I scoffed, and opened the door again, allowing him out the shop first. “I don’t see why, seriously. It’s completely average.”

Zeke shrugged, “I haven’t even seen it with furniture yet.” I grimaced at his comment, knowing that all the furniture I’d bought was basically still crowded together in the living room. He noticed my face, “What’s that expression for?”

“No reason,” I smiled, and he pouted. I chuckled as we crossed the street to get to my apartment, and slipped my hand in between his bravely, loving the way his cheeks flushed and how his fingers squeezed mine.

“Can you imagine what Finn would be saying right now, if he could see us?” Zeke commented, an amused look in his eye.

“I don’t want to imagine. He’s going to… I don’t even know, freak out or something to that extent.” And I’m probably right, which I think is fucking hilarious.

Zeke nodded and let out a sound similar to a giggle, and I smirked, turning to look at his blushing face that he was trying to hide as we made our way into my apartment complex. “You’re adorable when you giggle,” I commented, and he groaned, leaning against my side.

“Far from it, actually.”

Instead of protesting, I merely rolled my eyes and reluctantly removed my hand so I could pull my keys out. Before I opened the door, I turned to face him with a mocking stern expression. “It’s a little messy, so you can’t say anything.”

“What would I say?”

“I’m serious,” I continued, and he smirked, “You have to promise you won’t break up with me because I’m lacking the motivation to do anything with my place.”

“I promise.”

I grinned, “Good.”

Zeke laughed, and walked through the door, immediately stopping in front of the living room. His head tilted in a way that was so fucking cute, I almost tackled him down to the hardwood floor. But that probably wouldn’t have ended well. “I swear, this isn’t me saying anything, but is this your furniture from IKEA?” he asked.

I pursed my lips, “Maybe.”

His eyes widened, “Marshall, that was weeks ago!”

“I know, I know! I’m not good at stuff like this, I don’t have the decoration skills to know what to do with everything.”

Zeke laughed at me, smiling. “Can I help you? I mean, if you want me to. I’m probably no better at it then you, actually so never-”

I shook my head, interrupting his modest ramblings, “That’d be amazing if you could help me.”

He nodded to himself, and I walked into the kitchen, pouring us each a glass of water. From behind the cabinets, I frowned when I saw him move to take off his dark grey cardigan, but then hesitate and drop his arms back to his sides. Does he really still feel self conscious about his scars? I know about them now, so shouldn’t that be enough? I want it to be enough, at least.

“Zeke,” I murmured, “You can take off your cardigan, you know.”

He spun around, surprised that I had been watching him, and bit his lip anxiously. “It’s hard to.”

“Can you try? They don’t disgust me, or anything even close to that. I want you to be comfortable around me,” I admitted, running a hand through my black hair. Zeke was silent for a moment, contemplating the situation in his mind. After a few seconds, he pulled off his sweater and set it down on the counter.

“I am comfortable around you,” he finally said, offering me a smile, which I returned. “Now,” he began, “I don’t really know where we should start.”

I laughed, “Shit, me neither.”

Zeke walked over towards the thing that was supposed to be a coffee table, and sat down in front of it. “I’m going to get this thing put together, and maybe you can start working on your nightstand?” His expression was so cute, because it was obvious he felt odd ‘telling me’ what to do. I didn’t say anything though, nodding my head in response.

It actually is pretty embarrassing I don’t have anything put together yet. I mean, what the hell have I been doing for a month? Then again, doing all of this is a good way to spend extra time with my boyfriend. Even if it just shows him how much of lazy ass I am. I brought the hunk of wood closer to where he was and took a place next to him, our knees touching.

“Do you ever miss Oregon?”

I almost jumped, Zeke’s voice the only sound in the past fifteen minutes. I looked up at him, his head still ducked down towards the coffee table. “I don’t know, actually. There’s only a few reasons too. Blake being one of them, and I guess the other would have to be the scenery. I loved how green everything was. That’s not enough to ever want to move back, though. Why?”

“I was just wondering. Speaking of Blake, does he have plans of ever coming to visit you?”

“Probably not anytime soon. Hopefully before he starts college next summer.” And I was right, too. There was virtually no chance of seeing my old best friend for almost a year. As much as I hate to admit it, because it’s so screwed up, but being away from him isn’t that bad. He’s still important to me, but I just don’t really dwell on it anymore, you know?

“There! I’m done with the coffee table!” Zeke exclaimed after a bit, standing up and stretching out his limbs. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t inconspicuously checking him out. Oh yeah, Zeke. You’re helping me set up my furniture because I’m so fucking lazy and stupid, and I’m going to check out your ass in the meantime. But he’s just so perfect.

“You’re still working on the nightstand?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hey!” I said, feigning a hurt expression, “It’s harder then it looks. You’ve got to work with a certain precision, don’t you know?”

“Right, precision. Anyways, I’m going to start rearranging everything you have in here, so it actually looks like a living room.”

“I’ll help you when I’m done.”

“But I’ll probably be finished by then,” Zeke teased.

“I hate you.”

--

I groaned, dashing over to my bed, throwing myself onto it. Three hours. Three long hours, we’ve been working on my apartment nonstop. Entertaining and fun sure, but still. That’s a long ass time to be spending hunched over, putting screws into decorative pieces of shaped wood. Jesus.

Zeke wasn’t far behind me, and he leaned against the doorframe to my bedroom, rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“No, not really. I’m fucking exhausted, though. Thank you so much for helping me, because otherwise that would have never been done.”

He smiled shyly, “It’s no problem.” Zeke looked unsure for a moment, but I fought back a grin when he sat down on the bed, laying out next to me.

I bit my lip and rolled over, slowly leaning forward so I could press my lips against his. He responded immediately, our lips moving together greedily. I broke it apart, smiling at his blushing face, and rested my head back on my pillow without another word. I think kissing him is probably already one of my favourite things in the world.