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“Being in a new place will mess with my mental schedule. I can’t afford the excess strain of attempting to get used to an unfamiliar bed right now.”
Pollux nods. “I understand.” He gets the final slice of pizza, and boy am I glad I got the extra large. “So the plan is this: figure out a way to tell your parents everything so you can move in with me starting December twenty-first. Roughly a week and a half of time to plot. It should be simple enough to coordinate on top of the Christmas party on the twentieth if I’m helping.”
My eyes narrow as I stare at the crazy man eating pizza beside me. “What?”
“Winter break starts on the twenty-first.”
“I gathered that. What?”
“You want to move in, but there will be an adjustment period. You don’t want the adjustment period to cause extra stress to your schedule and risk affecting school hours. Approximately two weeks of break can help that transition. The alternative is waiting until summer, so it depends on which feels harder: continuing as you have been and coming home to a place where you feel pressured to pretend, or moving.”
“Um, obviously moving is harder.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
He makes a low sound. “Really?”
“Obviously,” I repeat.
“But the bedroom I have prepared for you is bigger than yours.”
I arch a brow and ignore the reminder that this whole entire man has been in my adorable and childish bedroom without my knowledge. In all fairness, I’ve snooped extensively in his house and bedroom, too, but I don’t want to be fair right this second. “Okay, and?”
“More room for your yarn. An entire cozy hammock for your stuffed animals. A larger closet for your dresses. A bigger desk for your sewing machine. And a nicer chair. With lumbar support.”
“Excuse me, you don’t need to go that far. Also, you’re only supposed to listen, not persuade.”
“I’m not persuading. I listened. I heard that you wanted something. I am letting you know it is possible, providing more details, and awaiting further input that I will listen to for as long as makes you confident you have been heard.”
He makes it really hard not to throw caution to the wind and be a bad child who frivolously partakes of co-ed slumber parties.
In other news, the lumbar support comment shouldn’t be so powerful, but apparently when he was snooping in my room, he saw the tiny chair I currently have at my desk. Maybe he even saw that the padding is so thin the bolts are coming through the bottom.
I believe my reaction to his information about lumbar support qualifies me as old, so it’s truly illogical for me to be so violently concerned over what Mommy and Daddy will think.
Alas.
Here I am.
Plotting how I could possibly move out by winter break alongside asking Pollux to make me French toast the morning after I move in. He’s a better cook than I am. I bet he wouldn’t just dunk sandwich bread in egg. He’d bake the loaf fresh, whip the cream himself, add strawberries…
He’s an overachiever, too, so he’d probably bring it to me in bed and wake me with a forehead kiss before letting me know the orange juice is fresh-squeezed and he can strain the pulp out if I don’t like it, but it’s good for me, and he’d know all the reasons behind it being good for me. So I’d munch on my toast and listen to him tell me about the glories of vitamin C.
…gracious.
It’s a self-serving fantasy if ever I’ve had one.
“Hypothetically, if I were to move in, how would I contribute to the household? Is there a chore chart I could weave myself into? My cooking is very hit or miss, but I do have a couple recipes that are reliable.”
“Xios handles the cleaning. I don’t mind cooking now that I’ve started it to take care of Xios, but I would appreciate you sharing new recipes with us. I fully want to incorporate your existence into the household, so I understand an amount of contribution is necessary to feel like an active member; however…” His brows furrow. “…I don’t want a chef or a maid. My home will become the place you can safely exist and call your own. I want your companionship. Your laughter. To be awakened too early on the weekend because you were up all night making something that you’re proud of. I want to hear your music in the halls and see your favorites in the fridge and take you places and explore things I could not otherwise comfortably entertain on my own. I want to do things with you and be with you. If that is not enough, I will stand next to you as you battle Xios for the right to fill the dishwasher without him rearranging it completely behind you.” Pollux rolls his eyes. “Because he does that.” Focusing his attention on me, Pollux says, “If just being near me is enough…allow me to assure you that just your presence in my life is as well.”
I’m tingling.
I don’t know if I like the sensation.
But the freedom in his words, which can’t be lies, are too alluring to ignore.
