Breach

One Month Later

And yet another night goes by with me sleeping comfortably in my bed…in Antony’s apartment. His spare bedroom has been officially dubbed my room, obviously dubbed by me since Antony continuously says it is still a spare room but really…we both know it’s mine. All the things that were once at my apartment are now here, other than the large things like my bed and dresser but that’s all right since Antony had some in this room. They are now mine.

Yes I dubbed them mine because that’s what they are. They are filled with my things and covered with my things therefore they’re mine. See my logic?

Anyways, after the incident with my dad a month ago I guess I just…didn’t feel comfortable returning. For the first week I didn’t even bother going over. I had countless missed calls by him but when I got a message saying he would call the cops if I didn’t return the message I finally did reply to him.

I went back to that hellhole for about three days. Although the alcohol was obviously gone and he seemed to be his normal self again I just didn’t feel…safe. I felt like one slip up would have him screaming at me so I basically moved myself into Antony’s apartment, which I’ve been calling home more often because that’s what it feels like to me.

It feels like a home. I feel safe. I feel welcome. Isn’t that what a home is supposed to feel like? So yes, this is home.

I go to see my dad, usually on a weekday so we brush by each other but I stay here mostly. I’m basically like a house hubby. With Antony working he doesn’t have a lot of time for housework so I do it for him, as a kind of payment for moving myself in.

He complains but not in the I want you out now way it’s more of a I don’t want to admit I like having you here so I’m going to complain way. Like my name for them? I bet you do. They’re pretty creative, I know.

I wake up Saturday with a pleased grin. Another good night’s sleep. I sit up, stretch, look to the clock and chuckle at the fact that I got up at noon again.

“Good morning,” Antony says after hearing me make my way out of my room. He’s facing the TV as he speaks to me. “You sneak your way into living in my apartment and don’t even bother to wake up early enough to make me breakfast. You’re worthless.”

I grin although he isn’t looking at me. “Annie, you’re a big boy. Make breakfast yourself.”

Antony huffs. Finally he turns his head just enough to see me from the corner of his eye. With a scowl he asks, “Isn’t it about time you go back to your own place?”

“Are you implying that you don’t enjoy my presence?” I gasp in fake pain.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m implying.” Antony grins at the pout he managed to put on my face. Mumbling, I wave him off and head to the kitchen where I cook us a quick meal of grilled cheese. I sit beside Antony on the couch, handing him his food, which he happily takes and shoves in his mouth.

“You’re lucky I’m too lazy to cook for myself or you’d be out of a second home,” Antony says between bites.

I grin. “Even if you could cook it wouldn’t be as good as mine and you’d come crawling back, begging for me to return.”

By the look on Annie’s face I can tell he clearly thinks otherwise. The man snorts before smacking me in the back of the head. I yelp, “Hey! That’s abuse.”

“How so? There’s nothing in there to abuse.”

“Ah…that was a stab at my intelligence, wasn’t it? How mature of you Mr. I’m Almost Thirty.”

“Keep rubbing in my age brat and you’ll regret your conception.”

Before I can make any witty remark back Antony’s phone goes off. Our conversation is put on hold for a moment as he exits the room to take the call. About ten minutes pass before Antony returns in his work attire, which makes me raise a curious brow.

“Where are you going?” I ask, watching as Antony grabs a pair of shoes.

While tying said shoes Antony replies, “Work. They just called me in asking for some help. I’ll be back…eventually.” Antony frantically scurries around the apartment for about five minutes before reappearing, “Damn it, where’s my keys!”

I perk at his question because really he has to be blind. Chuckling, I grab the object that was currently driving him mad, which was resting on the coffee table in front of me. Antony has made his way back into his room so I walk back there to give the keys to him.

“They’re right here!” I call to him. His bedroom door, which I was standing right next to, flies open and he tumbles out and into me. Thankfully we both managed to brace ourselves on the wall to keep from falling to the floor but that didn’t keep us from stumbling into each other.

Antony’s hand places itself over my own on the wall. His leg slips between mine, the other manages to stand beside mine. Our chests touch and my face brushes against Antony’s neck. Suddenly I can’t breathe.

And folks let me just start by saying that I have always been interested in girls, just girls, only girls my entire life so yes I do find it a bit odd that my heart picks up its pace the moment I feel our chests brush. How is it that my cheeks burn only because Antony has snaked his hand into mine to retrieve the keys? And why is it I get goose bumps when I feel his breath pass my ear as he says, “Thanks.”

And why is it that neither of us bothers to move away even after Antony has managed to get the keys into his possession?

My eyes are staring directly at Antony’s shoulder, even as I feel him turning to face me. I feel his breath fanning over my cheek but I refuse to look anywhere but at his shoulder because…because if I do I might end up doing something crazy.

Antony clears his throat as he quickly pulls away from me. My hand, which was covered by his a moment ago, feels cold. I bring it to my side where I clench it into a fist, hoping to will the feeling of loss away.

I haven’t managed to look at Antony yet, not even as he says, “Um…yeah, thanks for finding them. I’ll be back later. Don’t throw a party while I’m gone.”

When I say nothing in return he takes that as his cue to leave. Once the door opens and closes and I can no longer hear his footsteps I slam my fist against my forehead.

What the hell is wrong with you Bishop?