Page 186 of In Somnis

I stay exactly where I am, cheek against her knee, her hand in my hair, the cold ground under me, and the pale sun on my face. I think about nothing at all for what might be the first time in months.

Then she pulls, a gentle tug at the roots, and the sound that comes out of me is completely involuntary. It’s a low groan that I feel in my chest before I hear it, and she laughs.

“Are you even listening, Nev?”

I open my eyes and look up at her. “What?”

Her eyes are dancing. “We were talking about your birthday.”

“What about it?”

“It’s in two days.” She looks down at me with an expression that is doing several things at once, mostly fond and exasperated. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrug, which is difficult to do with my head on someone’s knee. “Wasn’t important.”

It never is.

She pulls at my hair again, a little less gently.

I glare up at her. “Hey.”

“It is very much important.” Her hand resumes stroking immediately after, making the glare hard to maintain. “What do you want? Two days isn’t much, but I can still grab you something.”

“I don’t want a gift.”

“Nevan.”

“Hmm.” I consider it, letting her fingers work through a knot at the back of my head. “Lately I’ve been into rent. And groceries.”

She laughs, even though it lands a little sideways, and it’s only a half joke, and we both know it.

“Fine,” she huffs. “But I’m baking you your cake. That’s not negotiable.”

I look up at her again. “Yeah?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay.” I settle my chin against her thigh so I can see her face. “I’d actually love that.”

“What kind do you want?” Her fingers turn even gentler in my hair, more massaging, and I have to hold back another groan. “I can do anything. Layered, mousse, tart, whatever you⁠—”

“Banana bread.”

She stares at me.

“Please,” I add.

Her nose scrunches so completely that both eyes narrow with it, and I laugh, reaching up to press two fingers to the bridge of it, pushing the scrunch smooth.

“What?” I chuckle.

“I can make literally anything.” She says it with the gravity of someone laying out the full scope of what’s being wasted. “Whatever you want. From scratch, nothing bought, anything in the world. And you want…” She sighs again. “It’s not even a cake. It’s bread. It has the word bread in it.”

“It’s a very good bread.”

“It’s bananas, Nevan.”

“I’m aware of the ingredients, yes.”