Page 23 of Save Me

Beside me, Micah lets out a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “Mother fluffer! That–” There’s a silence where it sounds like his words are all stopped up. “That kumquat!”

I pause for a beat because I have no idea what Micah is saying.

“That unsalted pretzel! He’s three lines short of a triangle! ‘Bout as useful as a…a chocolate teapot!” Micah sputters.

All the stress is crashing down, and I feel an odd high. Princess is okay. He’s fucking okay. And that makes warm tears gather at the edges of my eyes.

Micah keeps rambling, and I stare up at Micah’s ceiling, trying to keep the stupid tears back, giving a soft laugh.

Micah turns on me. “Are you defending him?”

I raise my hands. “Not me.”

“Holy Toledo, you are! You’re totally smiling!”

I try to stifle the smile, which just makes me smile more.

“Traitor!” Micah rolls over, and for a second, he’s gone. Then something is hurling down toward me.

I roll, but not in time. Something thwaps me on my back, and terror floods my veins. I roll to my feet, holding my hands in front of my face to fend off another blow.

Only, it doesn’t come. It’s just Micah, grinning at me, loading up another shot with the pillow.

Immediately, I scan his eyes. They’re their normal clear blue, the edges crinkled up. They don’t look like Arthur’s eyes. They look like he’s having…fun?

The longer I stare, the more those crinkles start to disappear.

Fuck! I try to swallow down my racing heart, mortification setting my cheeks on fire. But still, I search the lines of Micah’s body for tension.

“Sorry, I uh…” Micah drops the pillow. “I don’t know what came over me.”

It feels like fear has my neck in its jaws. Micah is seeing me. He’s seeing my weakness.

But instead of lunging for me, Micah just lets the moment pass. He groans, dropping his face into his hands. “Now the neighbors are gonna think I’m crazy. There goes the neighborhood kook, chasing his skunk at an ungodly hour.”

I struggle to recover. To sound normal. “It could be worse.” I clear my throat. “You could have been in your tighty whities.” As soon as I say it, I wince. What am I even saying?

Micah gasps. “First of all, that would be a blessing to their eyes.” He takes his hands away from his face to watch himself flex a bicep. “Second of all, don’t insult me; I don’t wear tighty whities."

I snort as Micah gets up. Relief that he said nothing about my freakout floods me, and then the words slip out, “I don’t know, I would definitely peg you as a granny panty kinda guy. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I’m more of a boxer guy myself.”

As those words settle, I want to die. Because why am I talking about Micah in granny panties? Suddenly, what Micah looks like in underwear is all I can think about.

Micah turns outraged eyes on me, but there’s a playful tilt to his mouth. “Excuse me? Granny panties?”

I raise an eyebrow, and immediately I see a shift in Micah’s body language. His pupils dilate, and he licks his lips, swallowing. I see that damn piercing again, and I wonder what it feels like.

I’ve dug too deep in the bit to stop, and there’s an absurd voice in my head that wants to keep going. So I just cock a questioning eyebrow.

Micah’s gaze flits down to my lips, then back up to my eyes. “I...” His voice is like a whisper. He takes one tiny breath through his open lips, everything hovering in the silence. Then a loud sound breaks the silence.

I jump before I realize it’s just Princess snoring. And like that, the moment is broken. Micah shakes his head, smiling. “You got me. It’s granny panties.” But the smile isn’t as genuine as it was before.

I shake my head, also plastering on a smile. “I knew it.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t lord it over me.” He waves me off. “I won’t bow down and kiss your feet or anything.”

Then my head is filled with the image of him doing that. Of more than that, of Micah, shirtless, crawling to me. Of him staring up at me from his knees with a worshiping look in his eye. Of me behind him while he grabs the sheets, muscles bunching in his back as he holds on.