Page 106 of Glitched Play

2:18 a.m.

Panic immediately pushes away the last traces of sleep. In less than four hours, Witt will be getting ready for work, and instead of spending the night in his perfectly researched mattress inside his meticulously organized bedroom, he's been folded onto a couch because of me.

Because I fell asleep.

Because somewhere between baking disasters and quiet conversations, my heart forgot this wasn’t my home.

It was Witt's routine.

And if there's one thing I've learned about him, it's that routines aren't preferences.

They're how he keeps the world from becoming too loud.

Carefully, I pull my knees up to my chest, deciding whether to wake him. He must be a light sleeper because his eyes open.

“Hey, we fell asleep. We should go to bed.”

Witt surveys the space, not me. I push the blanket from my body as I stand and fold it up to put it exactly where I found it. Draped over the left side of the couch and at a precise angle of forty-five degrees.

He reaches around me for the remote, turning off the television and when I turn, we’re close enough that I can smell the clean scent of his soap beneath whatever airport and airplane smells are still clinging to him.

His gaze drops to my oversized T-shirt.

GAME OVER.

When his eyes lift back to mine, they're softer than I've ever seen them. He’s staring at me. This is major. My insides twist tighter. My heart feels like a freight train is barreling through me.

He’s hesitant at first as his hands skate up my arms and land on my neck with his fingers tunneling into my hair and his thumbs swiping my cheeks.

"Game on."

With his face half shadowed with the only light coming from the windows, his soft lips connect with mine. Coffee lingers on his lips as they overlap mine. At first his top lip is over mine then it’s between mine. He rotates until my mouth is begging for more.

Witt’s tongue slides in, confident and sure, rolling tenderly around mine. Maybe I’m still dreaming. But then I feel his growing erection as he draws me against him.

I am not dreaming. This is real.

When we break apart, a lazy smile spreads across my face before I can help it.

"That might be the nerdiest thing you've ever said."

"It had a purpose." His lips twitch with amusement. Something I don’t see often.

"It did."

Neither of us moves.

The silence stretches between us, comfortable and warm, yet charged. Somewhere along the way, silence stopped feeling awkward with Witt. It became something I looked forward to because I never had to perform inside it. I never had to fill it with meaningless conversation or pretend to be someone else.

With him... quiet feels like being understood.

My fingers settle against the front of his dress shirt, brushing lightly over the first button. I glance up, silently asking permission, and when he gives the smallest nod, I slip it free.

Then another.

Then another.

Each button feels strangely intimate, not because of what I'm uncovering but because of what he's allowing me to see.