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Maggie yawns and then flops backward onto the bed, his small frame barely taking up any space. Fuck, he looks good in my bed. I’ll sketch this tomorrow when he leaves for work.
Grabbing the back of my shirt, I pull it over my head and kick off my shorts before crawling over next to him. I press myself right up against his back, and he sighs happily as if it’s all that he’s been waiting for.
For me to cuddle with him.
He reaches for his phone and sets his alarm, and while he does it, I spread my hand across his thin stomach, tracing my thumb over his ribs and rest my chin on the top of his head.
“You’re very warm. Nice and cozy,” he says groggily. I watch as he opens an app on his phone, and immediately a jumble of words appears on the screen. “I’m going to read for a bit. Is that okay?”
I nod, biting the inside of my cheek, as I’m once again reminded how damn smart he is. A college grad going for a teaching credential. What the hell is he even doing messing around with someone like me? When I was sixteen, I was expelled from high school and ended up in a continuation program. Barely graduated from that too. I have a juvenile record, and there’s a good chance that sometime soon I’ll end up with a criminal record just for doing something stupid. I’m a total fuck up compared to him.
I clear my throat, trying to squash the negative thoughts. “What’re you reading?”
“Oh,” he says, looking back at me and smiling shyly. “A gay dystopian romance. It’s fire. Seriously. People need to write more of this stuff because it’s life.”
What the fuck does dystopian mean? He must read the confusion on my face because he says, “You know what that means?” When I don’t answer, he says, “Dystopian is like the end times. The world is destroyed. That kind of thing. Someone recommended this book to me, and I’ve been dying to start it. It’s been sitting on my TBR list for days.”
I squint at the phone and try to make sense of it all but end up just feeling like more of an idiot.
Maggie watches me for a second and then asks, “You know, I’ve never asked. Do you like to read?”
That question catches me off guard, and I stiffen against him. He barely tolerates me as it is. If he knew….”
“Does it matter if I fucking read?”
Goddammit, I sound defensive.
Probably because I am.
“Well, no. Some people hate it and that’s fine. I’m just curious as to why.”
I feel my face turn red, and I turn my eyes away from his and choke out, “Nah. I don’t like to read.”
“Ok. Any reason why? What do you hate most about reading?” he asks, fully turning his attention to me.
I swallow and keep my gaze diverted. I want to sink into the floor and disappear. But I can’t lie to him. He should know who he’s been hanging around with. I’m literally the opposite of Colin, who reads for a living.
“What I hate most is…fuck…I just…I can’t read, okay?” I whisper the last part so softly I can barely hear it.
Maggie stills and then shakes his head. “I’m sorry,what?”
“You heard me. And I mean…Icanread, but the words are all jumbled. Backward and upside down. And it takes me two hundred hours to read something simple.”
“Oh…so…do you have dyslexia?”
I shrug and then say, “Yeah. So, I just don’t read if I can help it. It’s frustrating and gives me headaches.”
“I’m sorry, Sem. I didn’t know. Thank you for telling me,” he says as he places his hand on my chest. The contact feels warm and good against my skin. He bites down on his lip, glances at his book, and then back at me. “Want me to read to you?”
“What?” That wasnotwhat I was expecting him to say.
“I can read to you. Do you like listening to stories?”
I nod and find that I have a lump in my throat. “Yeah. I do.”
“Okay then. Buckle up, big guy, because this is going to be amazing.”
* * *
