Part 5: The Tension Before the Fall
The morning light streaming through the window woke me up, the soft glow warming my skin. My body was aching in all the right ways, but it wasn't just the lazy soreness of a good night's sleep--it was the lingering effects of last night with Dylan.
I woke up with a raging hard-on, my mind still hazy from the events that had unfolded in the hours before. The warmth of the blankets felt a little too much, like I couldn't escape the memories of Dylan's touch, his breath on my neck, his hands on my skin. My heart was still racing from everything that had happened.
I turned to my left.
Dylan was gone.
The space next to me was empty--still faintly warm, but definitely absent. No arm slung over me, no steady breath at my side. Just quiet.
He'd said something last night about how he liked to start his Saturdays with a lift--"Got to hit legs on Saturday, bro"--like it was some kind of ritual.
I rubbed my face and sat up slowly, swinging my legs over the side of the pullout. My body ached in the best way--lazy, sore, spent. Maybe it was me being slutty and trying to arch my back the whole night, but I didn't care.
I made my way upstairs, padding into the bright morning light of the kitchen. Jake was already standing there, shirtless in his sweats, pouring cereal into a bowl like it was a sport. Jake was skinny, like me, but I didn't see him the way I saw his brother. His brother did things to me--figuratively and quite literally last night.
I spotted the note on the counter:
Jake & Dylan--there's food in the fridge. Don't burn the house down. We'll be back Monday. Love you! P.S. Dylan--don't annoy Troy too much.
I smirked.
