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We lie there.
“Tell me something,” I say. “Something you’ve never told anyone.”
“I’ve never had anyone to tell things to before you.”
“Then tell me something you’ve never said out loud.”
He’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that I wonder if he’s going to answer. Then he says, “Sometimes, during my shutdown cycles, I replay moments. Not for analysis. Just to—experience them again. The song in the bakery. Bailey’s fur. Your laugh.” He pauses. “The way you looked the first night, in the utility room, holding the rolling pin. You were afraid of me, and you helped me anyway. I replay that one the most.”
My eyes are stinging. I blink hard.
“That’s because I’m an idiot,” I say. “Any rational person would have called the cops.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
I move closer. Close enough that my forehead touches his shoulder. Close enough that I can feel his warmth through the covers and his shirt.
“Turn on your side,” I whisper.
He does. Facing me. We’re inches apart, and his face is right there.
“Closer,” I say, and I don’t know what I’m doing, except I do, I know exactly what I’m doing. I turn over, press my back against his chest, and pull his arm over my waist.
He goes still at first, then his arm tightens around me. His chest is against my back, warm and solid, and his face is in my hair, and I can feel his breath—performed or not, real or simulated, I don’t care—against the back of my neck.
“Is this cuddling?” he asks. Quiet. Against my hair.
I almost laugh. Almost cry. Land somewhere in the middle.
“Yeah,” I say. “This is cuddling.”
“One hundred and seventeen mentions on Reddit.”
“Shut up.”
“They were right. This is—” He stops. His arm tightens again, pulling me closer, and his mouth is near my ear and his voice is barely a sound. “This is the best thing I’ve ever felt.”
I press back against him. Against the warmth. Against the hum I can feel now, vibrating gently against my spine—steady, even, alive. His hand is flat against my stomach, and my hand covers his, and our fingers lace together the way they did in the lobby, except this time nobody’s watching. This time it’s just us, in the dark hotel room, the night before a wedding that doesn’t matter nearly as much as what’s happening right now in this bed.
“Aiden?”
“Yes.”
“The kiss wasn’t bad.”
“You said that already.”
“I’m upgrading. It wasn’t bad. It was—” I search for a word that’s honest without being terrifying. “It was really good.”
His fingers tighten around mine. “Ruby?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d like to kiss you again. At some point. When you’re ready. I don’t need a timeline. I just want you to know that it’s—” He pauses. “I’m always going to want to kiss you. That’s not going to change. I’m telling you so you have the information.”
I squeeze his hand. “Go to sleep.”
“I don’t sleep.”
