I mightactuallyhave this.
MATTHIAS
“Well, how’d it go?” I ask the minute Frank walks in the front door. I try not to crowd him or sound too demanding, but I’m desperate for information. I spent the whole evening pacing around my house, waiting to hear how he felt about the exam. I texted him as soon as it was over, but all I got back was,I finished. In what world is that enough information?
“I don’t know.” He toes off his shoes in my entryway. One of them gets stuck on his heel, causing him to nearly tip over before finding a wall to grab onto. He looks as tired as I feel.
“How do you think it went?”
Frank shrugs. “Medium? I answered all the questions, so hopefully, even if I got it wrong, I’ll get partial credit.” His face is pale, eyes dark.
“Come on, let’s get some food in you.” Frank doesn’t argue. I know he didn’t have time for dinner before class. At best, he ate a granola bar on his drive to the college. After dinner, ideally, I get to put him to bed. In my home. For the second night in a row. I’d prefer it if it was in my bed, but that’s a step too far.
“Okay.” He follows behind me with no question, straight to the kitchen, where he practically falls into one of the bar seats. “I’m not that hungry.”
I snort. Sure. I pull some things I saved out of the fridge. All the stuff I know he can eat, but also fast. I can tell time is limited before he falls asleep, and I don’t want him going without something in his stomach. Otherwise, he’ll wake up starving in the middle of the night. Not the best way to ensure he gets a good rest. The veggie stir-fry I made earlieronly takes a few minutes in the microwave. It’s not amazing, but it’s hearty and easy to make.
“That smells incredible,” he says, perking up as I slide the plate in front of him. “What’s in it?” I’m glad he takes his health so seriously, though I suppose that comes from learning the hard way.
“It’s a mix of vegetables, ginger, soy sauce, hoisin sauce, and some cornstarch to thicken it up.”
“Do you still have the bottles for the sauces?”
“Yeah.” I turn and pull them out of the fridge, lining them up so he can see the ingredient labels. He takes a few seconds with each bottle, scanning over them carefully. He must decide they’re okay because he slides them back toward me.
“Sorry, sometimes companies add weird things.” He shovels a couple of bites into his mouth, moaning around the fork.
“Don’t apologize for taking care of yourself.” I should’ve thought of that before I made dinner. Since I didn’t add any meat or dairy, I thought it’d be safe. I make a mental note to do more research and to read the labels on everything in my kitchen.
“It’s annoying to people when I have to check every label.” He takes a few more bites. “It’s called alpha-gal syndrome. Apparently, I got it from a tick.”
That’s what I’d worked out for myself with a little help from Dr. Google. I’d never heard of anyone with an allergy to animal products like he mentioned, so I figured it might be something more complicated. “Got it. Well, tell me if anything doesn’t work for you, and we can find something else.” I’m not easily offended, and I’m willing to eat almost anything, so accommodating his needs isn’t a big deal.
I’m not sure exactly when I decided that I’m keepinghim, but now that the decision’s made, I’m going to do everything in my power to protect him. At least while he lets me.
Of course, right now, he’s shoveling the stir-fry in his mouth so fast I’m afraid he might choke. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to ask him to slow down. Instead, I grab a glass of water and slide it across to him.
Coughing, he grabs it. “Sorry, I guess I was hungry.”
“Take it easy. I’ll heat up more if you need it.” Hell, I’d make a whole second dinner.
“No, this is plenty. If I’m too full, I have trouble sleeping.” He blushes a little at the words. “Plus, I have to drive home.”
“You can stay here again,” I offer way too quickly. “If you want. The guest room is still set up for you.” I can pretend I didn’t have time to change the sheets, but I’ve been secretly hoping he’d be back. “Then you can get plenty of rest.”
“I don’t want to interfere. You must have better things to do than play host to me.”
I really don’t. I could do some work—I can always work—but honestly, I’m exhausted, and I’d sleep better knowing Frank is safe under my roof. “It’s no bother at all. I’m going to go to bed early tonight anyway.” I’m way too old to pull an all-nighter.
“Sorry.” I wave him off as he slinks into the seat. “If you really don’t mind, it would be nice. That bed is the most incredible thing.” Lucky bed. I’d rather he slept with me. I’m sure he’d approve of my mattress.
And we’re back to the wildly inappropriate thoughts that have been swirling through my head all day. We’re—well, I’m not sure what it is we’re doing, but it’s closer to friendship than a relationship. Although, Aaron would killme if I bossed him around and made him eat. I’ve tried and only barely survived.
“It’s yours. Finish up, and then you can go straight to sleep.” I know I need it, and I didn’t have to put in a day of manual labor or take an exam.
It only takes a few minutes for him to finish everything on his plate and chug the last of the water from his glass.
I don’t know why, but I walk him to the guest bedroom.
