My phone starts ringing. Everett glances up from the book he is reading and raises his eyebrows in question. I keep my pen down and close my books, I will just have to study later. The moment I see the caller ID my whole blood drains out of my face. No. This is not supposed to happen today. It's only been a week since we have been in a relationship and my worst fear is already here. Not yet. Not ever.

I take a deep breath. Everett has already moved towards me from my bed, and I shake my head at him. He shouldn't be here. I don't want him to know about my dad. I can't drag him into this. But he takes my hand in his and all the fight in me drains out. He grabs on to let me know I can't push him away no matter what. So I pick up the phone.

“What do you want?” I spit out.

My Father sighs. “The way you left that day was absolutely disrespectful and shameful. What were you thinking, Zachary?”

I bite my lips so hard, I almost drew blood. That doesn't happen though, because Everett touches a finger to my lips it slides it out from the grip of my teeth. He pulls me to the bed holding me against him. He doesn't do anything else.

A sigh comes through the phone again. “I want you back in the cameras to get more publicity.”

My whole body feels hot. Hot with anger. “I don't owe you shit. I am an adult and can do whatever I want.”

“Well, if I can't do that I might as well just send the public your way and maybe to your sister as well. She has never been the center of attention has she. Her mother has kept her away from that trouble. Maybe it's time she knows what it means to be famous?”

“You rotten bastard! She has nothing to do with this. I am not playing into your games. I refuse to do what you tell me to do.”

My father doesn't say anything for a minute. Then the call cuts. I drop my phone on the ground, I don't have the strength to hold onto it. I notice that my body is shaking with anger.

“Zachary, baby?” Everett soothes me with his voice. I look up and see warmth in his eyes directed at me. His eyes don't leave my face. Focusing on nothing except me. He slowly brings his hand to my cheek and rubs my skin with his thumb. “I am here. Alright. No matter what.”

Warm tears escape my face without consent. Just as I realize that I am starting to cry I try to pull away from Everett but his grip on my hand tightens. I haven't ever cried. Not since I was a kid. But right now with Everett looking at me so determined to not let me be alone, I don't know how I will be able to hold back.

“Please baby, let me hold you,” his voice is steady when I am losing myself. I press my forehead to his chest and just let go. He holds me through my sobs, and gasps for air. I am soaking his shirt with my tears and grabbing onto his shoulders with my hands. His hands are around me, clasping me to him. He kisses my head when the tears finally stop. I still don't look up to him. He doesn't remove his hands from around me either. I have never felt more safe in my life.

“I don't know why I let him do it, Everett. I don't know why I hadn't just reported him to the police long before. I wanted him to care, for once in my life I wanted someone to care. So I let myself think that he'll come around one day.” My voice is barely a whisper as I tell him things that I have never said to anyone. The thoughts I have held onto during the nights I couldn't sleep.

He moves his hands up and down my back but doesn't say anything else. So I continue speaking. “When I came out to him as bisexual when I was thirteen, he punched me, right across my face. It hurt then. That was the only time he ever hit me. At that time instead of yelling or being scared all I thought was that he cared. The only time he has ever acknowledged me as anything to him was when he had punched me.”

I let out a humorless laugh. Everett pulls me closer to him trying to eliminate any space between us. My fingers clutch onto his shirt. He grabs me harder as though it hurts him. I rub my hands across his forearms trying to draw strength from him.

“I used to bring boys into our house thinking that he would show any kind of emotion towards me again. But no, that was it. It was like I wasn't worth anything more. He wanted me to not exist. The funny part is he isn't even homophobic to anyone. It was just me.”

I breathe in. “Then there's my mother. She thinks I ruined her life. My father and she were fine until I came along, they had a professional relationship. But my father didn't want me and took out his displeasure on my mom. Their arguments got intense, and I was just there thinking what I did wrong. I used to smoke a lot when I was a teenager. I reduced it when I decided I wasn't going to let them lead my life.”

I wanted to say so much more. To tell him everything and just let it go even if I get scared tomorrow morning. Tonight he is here in my room, on my bed, holding me. Tonight I can believe completely that he is mine, and I am his. “And still all I do is let him do whatever he wants. A part of me just wants him to acknowledge that I was something. I was so scared and terrified when I was young. I don't think I ever outgrew it. I don't think I am strong enough for any of that.”

Everett holds my shoulders firmly and forces me to meet his eyes. His face was stern when he looked at me. Really looked at me. “You are strong, dammit. The fucking bravest person I know. But you are also just a person. You just told me everything when that was what you were afraid of the most. To let someone in. You still did it. There's nothing weak about you.”

I bury my head to his chest again and breathe him in. Maybe if I breathe his scent hard enough I can keep a part of him with me.

“Zachary?” Everett whispers.

“Mmm?”

“I think it's time you completely quit smoking. Don't you think?”

My breath gets caught in my throat. My eyes burn as I look up at him. “Okay. Yeah. I should.”

“When I was young, I used to be scared of riding motorcycles, My mom got into a small accident when I was eleven or something and I guess it stayed with me. Though no major injuries except a few scratches happened to her. So even when I grew up I was still scared of riding them but well one day I decided to hell with it and just took it to ride and crashed it.”

I snort. Everett grins at me. “I broke my arm, but I wasn't scared of riding it after that.”

“Aren't you supposed to get more scared if you crashed the bike?” I raise my eyebrows at me.

“I was just so pissed at the damn bike. Ain't letting a damn motorcycle get the better of me.”

I laugh out. Jesus. Of course, he thinks he needs to be better than a fucking motorcycle. I hold him closer to me, muffling my laugh by pressing my face into his shoulder.

He smiles at me. Then kisses my forehead gently.

“Do it again,” I tell him.

He smirks at me before kissing my forehead again. He slowly undresses me till I am in my boxers and then tucks me under the blankets before coming in himself. I pull him to me till everything from our toes to shoulder is pressed against each other. I forget about everything else, just letting myself enjoy this moment. Deep inside, I know that a confrontation with my father is way overdue. For now, I decide to just count Everett's heartbeats till I fall asleep.

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