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“Hi,” I say, and it comes out as a tired moan.
Rex turns in my arms and leans back to contemplate my face. He strokes my cheekbones and rests his thumbs under my eyes.
“You look beat,” he says. I drop my head forward to rest on his breastbone and he holds me close. Every few seconds, I wonder if he wants me to let go—I know most guys don’t love to hug—but it’s as if he can read my mind, because each time the thought occurs to me, he gathers me tighter against him. I must fall asleep for a microsecond because the next thing I know, Rex is guiding me down onto one of the stools and I feel that lurch in my chest that happens when I’m awakened suddenly.
“You’re all done?”
“Yeah, thank god,” I say.
We talk a little bit about a new commission Rex has for a sleigh bed and he makes magic happen on the stove and the next thing I know, my forehead cracks against the counter. I have such a clear memory of this kid, Martin, in tenth grade who was always falling asleep during class. We’d all watch his head start to slump and usually he’d jerk himself awake. But once a week or so, he’d fall out of his chair, waking up halfway down and scrambling to catch his balance. At the time, I thought it was hilarious. Now I wonder what shit job he was working until late to make him that tired at fifteen.
“Jesus, are you okay?” Rex asks, rounding the counter toward me.
“Shit,” I say, rubbing my head. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“You’re asleep on your feet, sweetheart,” Rex says. “Why don’t you go take a hot shower? When you’re done, dinner will be ready and then you can crash.”
“Do I smell that bad?” I tease as he hoists me up by the elbow.
“Only a little,” he says, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Go on.”
I manage to stay awake in the shower. Under the hot water, my mind wanders to my apartment and I realize that I should make sure to start running the taps every day so they don’t freeze. At my old apartment in Philly, the kitchen taps would sometimes freeze because I never used them.
I feel a little better after my shower—more floaty than lightheaded—and wander back into the kitchen to find Rex putting what looks like roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and peas on the table.
“Oh my god,” I groan. “That’s, like, the dinner I’ve been waiting for my whole life.” It smells amazing and looks perfect, like one of those fake dinners on a 1950s TV show.
Rex crosses to me in three steps and practically knocks me over when he kisses me, hard.
“You look so fucking hot in my clothes,” he growls, and kisses my neck. His smallest T-shirts are baggy on me and I’m wearing the sweatpants he left out for me the night we met.
“Got a binder clip?” I tease and Rex smirks.
“Nope,” he says wolfishly, looking torn between pulling my sweatpants down himself and waiting for them to inevitably succumb to gravity.
The chicken is as amazing as it smells and I basically stuff my face while I tell him about finishing my grading. He gets a pained look on his face when I mention accidentally falling asleep in my office last night, but doesn’t say anything. I have all sorts of elaborate plans for how I’ll let go of my borrowed sweatpants, letting them fall tantalizingly to the floor in the hopes that Rex will follow through on the promises of seduction that his eyes have made throughout dinner, but when the moment comes, all I can really do is stagger to the bedroom and let Rex guide me down to the bed.
My eyes close the second the soft mattress and warm smell of Rex cradle me, and I reach out a hand to where I thought Rex would be but he isn’t there.
“Hmm?” he says, and I must’ve made a sound.
“Are you sleeping too?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” he says, even though I catch sight of his alarm clock and it’s only 9:36. I wake up a few minutes later when he settles into bed beside me and roll toward him. He puts on headphones and settles in on his back, propped up on a few pillows. I put my head on his chest and sling an arm and a leg over him.
“What’re you listening to?” I ask, but if he answers I’m already asleep.
I WAKE feeling the kind of rested that only ever happens after being totally exhausted. A glance at the clock tells me I slept for twelve hours. I hear the shower running and slide out of bed, suddenly desperate to feel Rex’s skin against mine. I knock on the door because I still can’t imagine barging in on someone while they’re in the bathroom, even if it is Rex. He opens the door, not even in the shower yet, and pulls me in.
