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13
Lark
I woke up all warm and cozy in Dylan’s arms. He was pressed against my back, as secure and protective as a turtle shell. I grinned and snuggled even closer.
After a while, he stirred a little and ran a hand down my chest and over my stomach. I rolled over and watched him as he slowly awoke. His expression was blissful, and a little smile curved a corner of his mouth. He raised his lids a fraction of an inch and glanced at me through his thick lashes.
In the next instant, his eyes flew open. He seemed confused and disoriented, and he launched himself out of bed.
It was a damn good thing there was a railing around the edge of the platform, to keep him from falling ten feet to the living room floor. He backed up so fast that he ran into it. Then he dropped to his knees. He was breathing really fast, and I wondered if he was having a panic attack.
I climbed out of bed, but I didn’t try to approach him. Instead, I crouched down and asked, “Are you okay, Dylan?”
Even though he nodded, he looked like he wanted to cry. He sat down and hugged his knees to his chest. Then he took a few deep breaths, which seemed to calm him a little.
After a while, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I was having a dream. I thought I was in bed with my husband. Then I woke up, and he wasn’t there, and it all came crashing back.”
“You have a husband?”
His voice was rough as he whispered, “No. I did, but he died a few years ago. I’d never spent the night with anyone but him, not until last night. I guess…I guess I got confused when I felt you beside me. I thought it was Travis. The dream was so vivid…”
I’d never seen anyone look so completely devastated. It was like he’d just lost his husband all over again, and now he was fighting back tears with everything he had.
Even though I desperately wanted to hug him, I didn’t think he’d welcome that right now. So I stayed where I was and whispered, “I’m sorry, Dylan.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have told you sooner. Actually, I was going to tell you about Travis last night, but we were having fun and it just…it was so nice that when you looked at me, all you saw was Dylan, not ‘Dylan the widower.’ That’s who I am to every single person in my life, but there was no pity in your eyes, none of that constant concern.”
I asked, “Is he the reason you ran off after we kissed on New Year’s?”
He nodded. “I feel so guilty, even though I know he’d want me to move on.” No wonder he said he wasn’t looking for a relationship. After a pause, Dylan stood up and told me, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Once he was downstairs with the bathroom door closed behind him, I raced down the ladder and got dressed. Then I rushed around and put his apartment back together as best I could, starting with the dining chairs in the middle of the room. Dylan struck me as someone who needed things neat and orderly, and this was the only way I could think to help.
He’d gone into the bathroom just wearing boxers, but he came out fully dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved black Henley, and sneakers. I was standing beside the couch with my backpack on, and I smiled at him and said, “I’m going to take off, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
“What about breakfast? There’s your cereal…” He looked around and seemed confused by the way I’d tidied up.
I’d stashed it in one of his cupboards and almost said we could have it next time, but I wasn’t sure if that would ever happen. “I already requested a Lyft, so I need to go.”
That wasn’t true. He clearly needed some time to get himself together though, and that was a good excuse to get me out the door.
“Okay.” He crossed the room and gave me a hug as he said, “Last night was amazing. Thank you for everything.”
I let go of him and pulled up a smile as I headed for the door. “I had fun, too. Take care, Dylan.”
Once I got downstairs, I dropped onto one of the uncomfortable couches in the lobby and pulled up the Lyft app on my phone. Screw the bus—I was absolutely going to treat myself, after the morning I’d just had.
When I got home, I found my housemate Kel in the living room with his gay chinchillas. He’d had one of them for a while, and his boyfriend had given him a second one for Christmas. The animals had been crazy about each other from the moment they met, which was how we knew they were gay. The website Kel had read after the fact said you were supposed to introduce two males slowly, or they’d probably fight. But these two little furballs had failed to get that memo and had fallen in love instead.
At the moment, they were side-by-side on a striped beach towel that was spread out on the floor, happily munching away on the grassy hay stuff that made up their diet. Kel was lounging on his side next to them, with one hand propping up his head. He smiled when he saw me and exclaimed, “Hey! Hot date last night?”
I sat down cross-legged on the living room floor and said, “Mostly. How are you doing, Kel? Is your boyfriend back from L.A.?”
“Not yet. He stayed for some meetings with the network. They were impressed with the job he did on New Year’s Day, so they’re talking to him and his agent about an ongoing position as a football commentator.”
