“Really?” he asks, sounding hopeful.
“I cancelled.”
He’s quiet for a moment.
“Maybe you should talk to someone?” he mumbles.
I pull my arm back. “What?”
“I mean… Maybe it’s stress,” he shrugs one shoulder.
“But I’m not stressed.” I frown. And maybe that’s a little lie. But I can’t pinpoint why I’d be stressed so, until I figure it out, I’ve decided not to stress about it. Look at me, playing with words.
I’m utterly fucked.
“Fuck it! Let’s hang out tonight.”
“Yeah?” He shoots me a lopsided grin.
“If you can get me out of this fucking chair, yeah.”
I caved. I’m face down on the sectional of Seth’s couch, with a heating blanket covering my back and neck. I don’t even know why anyone living in California would own a heating blanket, but here I am, grateful as fuck that he does.
“Okay,” he says, coming back from the bedroom. “I’ve got this lube—”
“What?” I pull my head up, staring at him.
“Relax, it’s like a heating oil. Great for massages. And stuff,” he adds under his breath.
I let my face fall down again as he climbs on top of me, planting himself on my thighs.
“This okay?”
“Yeah,” I mumble.
He pulls the blanket down and the cold air hitting my skin makes me shiver. The cap snaps as he opens the bottle, and he rubs his hands together for a second before he places them on my back. My skin prickles immediately, the hair on my neck stand on end, and I sigh.
With every stroke he makes, I feel my body relax, and I fall deeper into the cushions.
I’m somewhere between sleep and Nirvana when he mumbles, “You flinched.”
“Hm?”
“The other day, when I touched you at work, you flinched.”
I turn my head slightly. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
I snort. “’Cause my body’s all on edge and I don’t trust it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, man. Sully says I’m touch deprived and whenever you put your hands on me lately, I pop a boner.”
He chuckles. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” I drawl, smiling down in the cushion.
