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He picks up my spare pillow and knocks me with it. “Yes. I’m talking about you. You made an impression.”
His comment is followed by a moment of silence that stretches into two, prompting me to end it.
“Then we became friends and you learned the error of your ways?”
He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then stops and instead brushes a sweaty strand from my forehead andtucks it behind my ear. “I can say that after four years hanging out with you, Gems, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re the real deal. If there’s a flaw in you, I can’t find it.”
Dax doesn’t do empty compliments. If anything, his love language is affection in the form of well-meaning teasing. So this story, this moment, feels different. “Thank you for saying that.” I reach up and scratch his chin. “Who knew that under all these scruffles was a closet sweetheart.”
He takes my hand and squeezes. “Yeah, well, I’m banking on you not remembering half of this in the morning.”
His fingers linger, cupping my hand. Warm and strong. They fill my head with fleeting thoughts. Musings only allowed on lonely late nights or after too much tequila. I open my mouth, wondering what will spill out, and am half-surprised that what does come is laughter. Hysterical sob-laughs that make my stomach hurt until I clutch my knees to my chest and force myself to draw deep breaths.
“I think that’s my cue to leave.” Dax gets up, but before he can go, I grab his hand.
“Tuck me in?”
He pauses for a beat, but then peels back the corner of my covers and waits until I crawl under to pull them back over me.
“And a hug?” I open my arms. Again he hesitates before leaning forward and letting me wrap my arms around him.
I breathe him in. “You always smell good. Like soap but spicy.”
He tries to pull back, but my grip is strong for my intoxication level.
“Uh…thank you.”
“I love you, Dax,” I whisper into his ear.
“I think that’s Jose Cuervo talking.”
I let go so I can look at him. “No, it’s true. You are my best friend. And the best guy. And the best ever.”
“That’s a lot of bests.”
It is. And I mean every one. “I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”
“You’d spend significantly more time wandering the streets of Hamilton without pants.”
“It’s good that we never screwed things up between us, right?” I ask him, once again thinking about what Kiersten said this afternoon.
His forehead crinkles. “What do you mean?”
“I mean sex. It’s good that it never happened.”
He looks away before bringing his gaze slowly back. “Have you thought a lot about this?”
No. Or maybe? I mean, yes. What I mean is that I haven’tnotthought about it. But what I know for sure, deep down in my bones, is that I don’t want to live in a world where he’s not in my life.
“You’re my best friend. If we had sex, everything could change. I don’t want that.” I reach for his hand, but he moves it.
“You’re right. It would.”
I extend my arms for another hug, but Dax stands up, then abruptly walks to the top of the stairs. As he flicks the light off, I call out to him, “Good night, Daxon McGuire.”
He turns, hand on the banister, weight shifting from heel to toe as if he’s deciding something.
“I wish that…” He doesn’t finish the thought.
