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When Ellis suggested takeout and watching the next episode of our show together, I breathed out in relief. Things were going to be okay. I just needed to follow his lead.
“I’m gonna try and sleep here tonight,” Ellis said as the ending credits were rolling. He wouldn’t meet my eyes, which told me he’d been gearing up for the announcement. Maybe even on the way to the photo lineup. Or after his conversation with the woman outside. But if he thought it was time, I needed to be supportive of his decision.
“Sounds like a plan,” I replied, even as my stomach sloshed uneasily. But I forced myself to stand and turn toward the door. “Call if you need anything.”
“I will.” I heard the wariness in his tone but also the determination, so I pushed my feet forward and let myself out.
It was quiet upstairs without him, which was throwing me for a loop. I had lived by myself for years and had always enjoyed the solitude. But lately, since Ellis and I were spending all kinds of time together, it made my solo time feel more…what? Lonely? This whole thing was fucking with my head. It was obvious I needed this space as much as he did.
An hour into the night, after I’d showered, changed into sweats, and tried to catch up on social media, I couldn’t help wondering how he was faring. I pulled out my cell and sent him a text. You okay?
Ellis replied immediately. Yeah.
Before I could respond, he typed: No. This is hard.
I was glad for the honesty. Maybe cold turkey isn’t the way to go.
What do you mean?
I’ll explain. Be down in a minute.
I slipped back into my shoes without giving it another thought, and then I was knocking on his door, determined to help him through his night.
“What’s up?” he asked as he opened the door with bleary eyes and ushered me inside.
“Maybe tonight I can sleep on your couch,” I suggested.
“No, I…”
“Just to get you used to being in your apartment,” I replied, hoping I wasn’t pushing my luck.
“Your night of sleep would suck.” He stared at me as if considering something, then blurted, “You could always sleep in my bed.”
My stomach felt like I’d missed a step on a flight of stairs. “I don’t know… Is it as comfortable as mine?” I teased.
“Guess you’ll have to see for yourself,” he lobbed back.
He started pacing, and for a moment, I thought he was regretting the decision to ask me to stay. Had I overstepped?
“I know I should feel safer by now. It’s been three weeks already. That’s nearly a month, but I…”
“It’s psychological.”
“Exactly.” He breathed out. “How do you know me so well?”
“We’ve been friends forever.”
“It’s more than that, and you know it.” He looked away. “Have you ever wondered…?”
“What?” The air felt thick in the room between us.
He shook his head. “Never mind.”
Talk to me, Ellis. Maybe I’m feeling the same way.
My gaze caught on his windowsill. “How are your plants doing?”
“Not sure I can save them.” He looked so forlorn. “See how brown the leaves are?”
“Yeah, guess they’ve been put through some trauma too.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
“I bet they’ll be survivors just like you.” When his eyes met mine, his mouth curved into a sad smile.
“Let’s get some sleep, Nolan.”
I followed him into his room and was suddenly hit with a case of nerves. What the hell were we doing? Still, I slid under the sheets. “I like your mattress. Softer than mine.”
It was awkward between us right then as I fished around for something to say.
Maybe I should sleep on the couch after all?
“Think I like yours better,” he replied in a drowsy voice. “Goodnight.”
“Night.”
But after several minutes, we were both still awake.
“You having trouble?” I asked him.
“Yeah. I keep looking at the door like I’m going to hear that same noise again. Of someone coming through the window.”
“How about this?” I sat up and adjusted myself against the pillow beside him. He was turned on his side, facing me. “I’m gonna keep watch so you can fall asleep first.”
Ellis made a frustrated sound. “Fuck, why is this so hard? I’m not a child.”
“Stop beating yourself up. Trauma is trauma. They violated you and your safe space.” I absently reached for his hair and started combing my fingers through it. He seemed to melt into my touch, which was wholly bewildering but also…gratifying. “This okay?”
“Feels so good,” he murmured.
“Good, now go to sleep.”
It took a bit of time before his breathing evened out, but I didn’t feel much relief as my chest ached with awareness of him. Of our closeness and my fingers still burrowed in his hair because I couldn’t seem to stop myself.
And something even more alarming—I was hard as a rock. From lying in bed with my best friend and touching him. I had the urge to outline his puffy lips with my thumb as they parted with deep breaths. Was his mouth soft? What would it taste like?
