Breach

I feel better having spoken with Bishop about what was bothering him. It’s to be expected. Graduating seems great until it gets here then people begin to realize they aren’t ready just yet. Things like ‘what college should I go to’ or ‘should I go to college’ suddenly pop up and you don’t have an answer yet. I had those same thoughts so it doesn’t surprise me that Bishop has them too.

He’s too cute, being concerned that he’d appear childish if he couldn’t make up his own mind. Knowing he fretted over it so much makes me a bit happy. I would never say that to him though. I doubt he’d understand, that brat.

Having such a huge age gap between us does have its problems. I know people say things like ‘age doesn’t matter,’ but I think it does. When you’re younger than your partner it feels like they are so far ahead of you, like they are doing so much more. It leaves a person feeling insecure and…childish. Bishop must get thoughts like those, but I don’t want him to be concerned about it.

I am older than him so of course I am farther along in life than he. Once he goes to school and gets a job I’m sure he’ll feel less pressured. It will take time but he’ll get there. We’ll get there.

I’m here to help him when he needs it. One good thing about being older is that I’ve already gone through this, the anxiety, the fear though mine was a bit different seeing as my only concern at that age was taking care of Jean. Ah, the idiocy of youth…

Bishop has a long list of things to choose from. There are many things he can do, many things that he would be good at doing, but finding the right one is always the hardest. I want him to know that he can talk to me about it. I won’t see him as being childish. I will see him as a man worrying about his future, which is a perfectly normal and ok thing to do. If anything it’s a very ‘adult’ way of doing things. Jumping into something without any thought is stupid and childish.

It’s been a week and Bishop hasn’t said much else about the matter. I’ve given him use of my lab top, saying that he can use it to look up schools or possible majors that he may be interested in. He’s been doing exactly that, surfing the web for a while with this concentrated and concerned look that makes me laugh. I know I shouldn’t laugh, seeing that this is a serious matter, but it’s more of a proud laugh? Like I’m happy that he’s concerned? I don’t even know if that makes any sense.

The boy notices me smiling to myself. Tearing his eyes away from the lab top for the first time in hours, he asks, “What’s so funny?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“If it was nothing you wouldn’t be laughing,” he says around a suspicious look. What? He doesn’t trust me? I’m not planning a prank on him or anything, which he probably thinks I am. My thoughts are confirmed when he looks over the couch and from side to side, checking to see if anything is going to magically hit him or something. When nothing happens he turns his attention to me. “You’re up to something.”

“I’m not,” I laugh, shaking my head at his disbelieving look. “Do you want me to be up to something?”

My suggestive tone has Bishop wiggling in his seat. “No,” he mumbles, slowly returning his eyes back to the screen. “I’m trying to get work done here.”

“A miracle.”

“Shut up,” he grunts, fingers tapping away at the keyboard. I see him take note of a few things on a notepad at his side. I’m curious to see what it is but decide that he’ll show it to me if he wishes for me to see it.

Bishop finally sits the laptop on the coffee table. He shuts the lid and falls onto his back on the couch, one arm over his eyes. He looks annoyed and exhausted, a feeling I know very well. Getting up, I walk over to him, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. He lowers his arm enough to peek at me.

“What?” He asks.

“Don’t be so stressed out about it. It won’t help,” I say, grabbing his wrist and using the hold to pull his arm from his face. Said face is now tinted a light shade of pink and getting darker as I lean closer.

“I’m fine,” he lies, avoiding my eyes. Everyone knows when someone says ‘I’m fine’ it’s total bullshit. It’s like the word has an opposite meaning. They might as well say they feel like shit because it’s better than feeling fine.

I roll my eyes before leaning close enough that our lips brush. Bishop’s eyes widen as his cheeks go from pink to fire hydrant red. He’s too cute. His arm, which is still in my grasp, is shaking and his eyes keep going from my lips to my eyes, like he’s just waiting for me to kiss him.

“You’re a terrible liar, another thing adults need to be good at,” I chuckle before pressing my lips to his.

My assumption of him waiting for a kiss must have been right because it only takes a second for him to let me rest myself between his legs. One arm wraps around my waist, the other that was once in my grasp is thrown over my neck, pushing our lips closer together.

I trace the seam of his lips with my tongue. Wasting no time, Bishop parts his lips allowing me to explore every crevice of his mouth. Running my tongue over his, he releases a sweet moan. I’d imagine he would be embarrassed by the sound but he’s now too preoccupied by trying to force himself into my mouth to do anything else about it.

I allow Bishop to take over the kiss, his tongue desperately trying to find a spot to make me moan. I’m already trying my best not to but if he keeps moving his hips against mine I won’t be able to keep quiet much longer. His hips buck up to meet mine, creating a delicious friction. I have to pull away from the kiss to bite my lip to keep back a groan.

Bishop quickly takes that as his chance to attack my neck. His lips are running over my pulse, nipping at sucking at the point. I finally release a groan. I can feel Bishop’s smirk against my neck. The pace between our hips are picking up. Once the touches were hesitant but now they’re rough and erratic. I grip the back of my couch as I bring my hips down to meet his.

Bishop moans against my throat, his hands moving to remove my shirt. I toss the garment across the room, going to do the same to him. I lean in, kissing at his neck as I run my fingers up his chest. His body arches up, the friction of our hips and my fingers playing with his nipples cause him to moan. One of his hands is buried beneath the back of my jeans while the other seems to be going for my belt.

I’m about to rip all his clothes off when…

The doorbell rings.

The both of us stop, as if someone had walked in when really they were just ringing the doorbell. I look to Bishop, eyes wide, cheeks bright red and a hickey forming on his neck…not to mention the obvious bulge below his belt, not that I’m any better.

The ringing stops. I’m thinking ‘screw them,’ because right now Bishop looks far too tempting to resist. However, an all to familiar voice shouts through the door, “Antony, are you home?”

Somehow Bishop’s eyes grow even wider.

Shit. What’s Jean doing here? Shit. Shit. Shit.

My phone starts ringing. Bishop quickly jumps up and runs to the bathroom while I answer the phone, “Hello?”

“Hey, I saw your car in the parking garage. I’m at the door but are you not home? I thought I heard you in there.” Jean asks. Shit, why is she here? Why’d she have to see my car? I could lie and say I’m out with friends and we took their car…except I don’t really have any friends. Damn it, if we weren’t married before that plan could have worked, damn it!

“Uh, yeah I’m home,” I answer, peeking into the hallway to see that Bishop has locked himself in the bathroom. “Why? Do you need something?”

If she just wants to talk we can do that over the phone. I would like to keep her outside the apartment at all costs right now.

“Ah, I left something here or at least I think I did. Could you let me in? It’s a lot easier to talk in person rather than on the phone?” She laughs.

I should say no. Really I should. I am sure there’s a mark forming on my neck that she’s bound to notice, not to mention Bishop is still in the bathroom, which she’ll also find suspicious but…what am I supposed to say? No? My younger boyfriend by 10 years is here so please leave…ugh…

I open the door, pretending to rub my “aching neck” in hopes to hide the mark Bishop left. Jean smiles upon seeing me. “It’s been a while.”

Not long enough.