Page 102 of When In Doubt

There’s some shuffling, a grunt as I accidentally drive my elbow into his side, and more than a little frustration as we try to find a position that’ll be comfortable for both of us. Eventually, Oscar grasps me by the waist and tugs until I’m splayed half on top of him, head on his chest and legs tangled. His arms envelop me, only leaving my back as one reaches down to grab the sheet, pulling it over us.

Our breaths sync up as we lie in our newly made cocoon.

I wonder what we’ll emerge as.

“How come you’re here? You didn’t want to go back to your place?” I ask.

“I needed to be near you. Just in case.”

I hide my face in his neck, breathing in his scent. It’s detergent and coffee, but there’s that hint of smoke that never quite goes away. “Why didn’t you come up?”

He sighs, so long that I feel myself dropping as his chest deflates. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You’ve had a hard enough night as it is, I didn’t want to crawl into bed with you and have it be too much.”

My chest aches at his admission, both from how touched I am that he would do that for me, and how much I hate that he was probably right to worry.

“Is that why I’m here? I mean, I could have waited for you at yours?”

“Partly?” He says it like a question. “I felt better knowing my mom was with you, that you were being looked after.”

“I don’t always need looking after, you know.” I frown a little against his skin.

“I know, but your apartment complex just caught fire. Anyone would need a little care after something like that.”

“I guess,” I grumble.

“And besides, when I have you in my home for the first time, it’s not going to be because you need some place to stay. That’s not how this is going.”

“Oh?” I prop my chin on his chest, looking up into the face that’s only vaguely illuminated. I reach up to trace what I can’t see, to feel his expression with my fingers. “And how is it going to go?”

“I have a few ideas.” I feel his smirk under my fingertips.

I let out a quiet giggle.

“Freya,” he says, his voice suddenly earnest. “You’ve got to help me out here. I don’t know how much to push with you, how far I can go.”

“You can push as much as you want,” I say automatically.

He pauses, the reflection in his eyes glinting. “I don’t think I can,” he replies softly. “We’re not there yet.”

“We could be.” I push myself up slightly, wanting to do something to erase that note of sadness in his voice.

“It’s okay.” He guides my head back down to his chest. “We can just enjoy the journey.”

Insecurity builds, that old voice telling me that I need to fix this, that I need to figure out what he wants so that I can give it to him. “I don’t want to make you wait around.”

“No.” He kisses the top of my head. “Freya, I fucking love waiting for you. And God knows I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

“What does that mean?” I know he had a crush on me, but this sounds like more than that.

His sigh ruffles a few strands of my hair. “I used to tell my mom that I was gonna marry you.”

“What?” I go to sit up, but he keeps me against him.

“I was a dumb kid, but I knew you were something special.”

“Oscar,” I whisper. I don’t know what to say.

“We can talk about it some other time, when we don’t have to whisper like we’re a couple of teenagers.”