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DARIUS
No one’s there when I wake up.
Well shit.
I haven’t even gotten my eyes open properly and there are fucking tears trying to come out. I felt so warm when I fell asleep, I thought maybe this would be the time it was different. But now I’m naked in a chilly bed, staring at a shadowy ceiling in the silence. Maybe I dreamed it all.
Rolling onto my face, hissing at the ache in my shoulder that woke me up in the first place, I resolve to see how long I can stay here without moving. Days? But unfortunately I have to pee first.
Stumbling and grabbing the wall to stay steady, I limp to the bedroom door and shove it open on my way to the toilet.
Weird–I never shut my bedroom door.
The living room glows softly with yellow lamplight, even though I didn’t turn them on. A freshly-showered man with dark hair and moody eyes turns and props his chin on the back of the couch. His sexy mouth twists into a grin. “Hey, brat. You’re up.”
I won’t let the tears out, so they make a huge, tight ball in my throat. I have to clear my throat to get my voice around them. Even so, it wobbles a little. “Fucker. You’re supposed to clean my whole house while I’m sleeping. That’s what they do in the books.”
His eyebrow arches in a way that makes my knees weak. “Thanks for reminding me that I’ll be watching you clean your house later. On your knees with a toothbrush if I don’t like how you’re doing it.”
I snort, which hurts when I’m trying so hard not to bawl with happiness. “You’re hilarious.”
“And you think I’m kidding.”
I have to look away to hide the heat in my face. “It smells good in here.”
“I got takeout. Hope you like ramen.”
“Fuck yes.” I’m suddenly ravenous. Forgetting I’m still naked, I climb over the back of the couch and curl up against him, grabbing a Styrofoam container and a pair of chopsticks from the table. That’s when I notice Tate’s ramen has a plastic spoon. I clack my chopsticks at him. “Can you not use these, know-it-all?”
He grabs mine with a grumpy sound and tries to maneuver them in his big hand. My chest breaks open into a full on, rib-aching laugh at the way he’s flopping them around and dropping everything he tries to pick up, splashing broth onto his arm. “We’ll work on that.”
At those words he glances over at me with a question in his eyes, like he’s wondering if he understood me right. Daring to hope. I just lean over and press my nose into his jaw. “And if I don’t like how you’re doing it, you’ll have to get on the floor like a dog and use them to count pieces of floor lint.”
He lowers the chopsticks, staring at me. “What?”
“That’s how you sound, you know.”
After a moment of silence, he dissolves into coughing giggles, holding his soup away from his body so he doesn’t spill. “Do you ever, like, pick words and put them in a meaningful order before you blurt them out? You’re gonna make a dog use chopsticks?”
“He’d be better at them than you are.”
“Excuse you.” He puts down his ramen, then steals mine away before pulling me over to straddle his lap, palming my bare ass. “I’m still hung up on what exactly floor lint is and why you have so much of it.”
I make sure he can’t kiss me by kissing him first, wrapping my hands around his head and trying every kind of kiss I’ve ever daydreamed about, seeing which ones work best in real life while he just strokes me all over like I’m everything good.
I still don’t know what’s going to happen next. We’re a mystery to each other in every way–routines, life stories, what flavor of coffee creamer he likes best. If it’s not vanilla cupcake, we’re over. But I know him in the way I know my secrets and scars, the dark corners and long, silent days. When I close my eyes, I can’t imagine anything else but this, not even deep down where I kept the dreams I haven’t gotten to explore yet.
And when I open my eyes, he’s still there.
