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“You scared I’m gonna tell your friend Theo Decker the rock star that you like Secaucus Psychic?” he teased.
“Psh, Theo’d probably love it,” I said. “But don’t tell Whitman.” I jabbed a finger in his face.
“Theo’s partner? I don’t even know him. Don’t worry—your secret’s safe with me.” He settled back on the couch and then casually said, “Your secret deep love of Secaucus Psychic.”
When I glared at him he laughed.
“Oh, man, did you see the one about the little girl whose gerbil had died and she saw the host, Jackie, at the ice cream parlor and begged her to communicate with the spirit of the gerbil, and her mom was there and was staring at the camera like ‘Oh God, please don’t let this make it through editing’?”
I nodded. I’d seen every episode.
“I like that she never tells kids their pets are less important than people,” Felix said. “She’s so great. Do you like animals?”
I nodded.
“But you don’t have any? How come?”
A distant image of a cat from long ago dropped into my mind, and I shook my head to banish the thought.
I shrugged. “Just don’t.”
“Okay,” Felix said softly. After a moment, he scooted closer to me so our arms were pressed together, and gently took the remote from my hand. He scrolled through the episodes and chose one called “A Day at the Beach.”
I tried to focus on the television, but mostly I was paying attention to Felix, who’d tucked his legs up, knees tilting slightly toward me, and was absently twirling a chunk of hair around his finger as he watched the show.
My fingers itched to touch him, draw him closer to me, play with his hair myself. I held myself rigidly still, arms clamped to my sides.
I couldn’t pinpoint exactly the moment when awkwardness had turned to comfortable teasing, but…I liked it. I liked being teased by Felix. He had a vulnerability about him that made me feel deeply protective and was demanding in a way that gave me the sense that Felix would keep asking sensitive, personal questions. Keep pushing me.
I pressed my palm to my stomach. It was terrifying to hope.
“Oh my God,” Felix murmured, and I tuned back into the show. It was a part of the episode where Jackie told a young woman who’d lost her husband that she could feel the moment of his death and how he’d wanted to stay with her but had to leave. The woman was crying and Jackie was crying, and when I looked over, I saw Felix’s lower lip quivering just a little.
“That’s so fucking sad,” he said, blinking up at me. Unshed tears made his brown eyes luminous.
Before I could think it through enough to stop myself, I slid my arm around his shoulders and pulled him tight to my side. He made a small, happy noise and tilted his knees over to lean against my leg.
A sense of contentment washed over me and shook me to my core. Not because it was such a strong feeling. In fact, it was soft and quiet.
But I hadn’t felt it in a very, very long time.
My heart thudded heavily with the realization and my mind shied away from it. I slid my fingers into Felix’s hair to distract myself. He made a low, purring sound and pressed closer to me.
Felix seemed like a map folded up small and perfect that would sprawl when unfurled and show you everything. And I…fuck, I wanted to see it.
The episode ended and neither of us moved a muscle, both making the choice to let the next one play. A few minutes later, Felix began absently plucking at a loose thread on my shirt as he watched. I let him, steadfastly refusing to imagine what it would feel like to hold his small, warm body in my arms asleep in bed.
I didn’t let myself imagine how I’d gather him close and tuck his head beneath my chin. I didn’t let myself imagine drifting off to the smell of his clean hair or the softness of his skin against mine. I didn’t let myself imagine waking in the night to the feeling of him still in my arms. I snapped the rubber band in my mind and kept my eyes firmly on Secaucus Psychic.
When the episode ended, he gave one last tug on the thread, and a button fell off my shirt and bounced onto the floor.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Felix said, sitting upright, eyes wide. “I didn’t think that was attached to anything.”
My shirt gaped slightly and a bolt of warm tenderness shot through me.
I squeezed his shoulder lightly.
“It’s okay.”
“Do you want me to…sew it back on or something?”
“No,” I said, amused.
“Sorry,” he repeated. “Um, I guess I should go. I work early tomorrow. Besides, I don’t want to destroy any more of your clothing.”
