Page 79 of Challenge Me

You seek truth, boy, yet flinch at its burn;

The heart is a forge, and all men must learn.

You pray for wisdom, you pray for peace;

I present them both, so be at ease.

Good enough for me.

With both hands, I gripped Amir’s hair tightly at the roots and tipped his head back. “What fool would feed a starving heart?” My lips found his, and my control fractured. “I promise you’ll come to regret this.”

“We’ll have to wait and see.” With a smile, he relaxed against the pillow. “This isn’t a sex kiss either, by the way.”

“I don’t care about that.” I ran my fingers gently through his hair while I looked down at him. “Why do your parents live in Dubai?”

“You care now?”

“Only if you stop giving me the runaround.”

His expression was soft as he stroked my thighs. “They wanted to be closer to home, but somewhere new.”

“And where’s home?”

“They came from Iran. Isfahan, to be exact. My mom wanted to study architecture in the States, so when I was two, they came here. We settled in Arizona, and they built great lives, but they always missed home. Once I went to college, they decided to go on a new adventure.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Of course. Our relationship is sort of casual. We see each other once or twice a year, but we keep in touch.”

“How do they feel about this?” I motioned between us.

He lifted a shoulder. “They said if I’m happy and my family is taken care of, they’re happy too.”

“I respect that.”

“Tell me about yours.”

Pushing my lips out, I pinched his chin, enjoying the roughness of his stubble. “No.”

There was a frown on his face, but he nodded. “Alright.”

“You always accept it when I don’t answer your questions.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Throw a fit, obviously.”

“Would it work?”

“Never know until you try.”

He laughed, drawing my attention to that smile. It wasn’t innocent like Oli’s, but it was pure like his.

“The fucked up things are easier to talk about,” I said. “Maybe because I spent so much energy fixing all the broken parts of me that the happy ones make me sad. You can’t heal from those ones, so they exist like alcohol in your wounds, curbing the infection but burning like a motherfucker.”

“Anything you want to tell me, I want to hear it.”

“Hm. Maybe I’ll have Renshu make notecards.”