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I clear my throat but all I can do is nod. Still against his chest, and absolutely not changing that to look up at him. At least not until he gently lifts my arm off of him, and I quickly remove the rest of myself.
I couldn’t be more embarrassed.
The couch is deep enough that I have a couple inches to scoot back. I keep my eyes closed, scared to meet his gaze. I’m not sure I could in the darkness of this room, but it’s not worth the risk.
I don’t want to know how he’s feeling.
When he stands, my ability to think comes back to me. I’m warring with myself on whether or not I should just collect my things and head home.
I finally open my eyes to glance at the digital clock on his stove, which reads two in the morning. The sight of it is enough for me to know I’m too exhausted to pretend I could drive right now.
Tomorrow sounds like a great time to process all of this.
Or the next day. Or never.
Nestling into the throw pillow that’s perfectly cold from being neglected, I start to close my eyes before I hear a thud. A whispered curse comes from Miles across the room, causing me to sit up.
“Are you okay?”
Another falls from his lips before he says, “I just kicked the wall, I’m okay.” A cool breeze floats through the room then, making the urge to sink in this couch for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep impossible to resist.
Or it would be if I didn’t feel like I was imposing on his space.
I can see his silhouette move through the darkness, and I feel the couch move with his weight when he sits down.
What if he’s too nice to tell me to go home?
I open my mouth, about to ask, but quickly stop myself before any words come out.
He scoots closer to me until we’re touching again, and then I feel his fingers brush lines up and down my arm. The movement pulls all the air from my lungs, and I fight it with a shaky inhale.
This can’t be blamed on sleep, he’schoosingto be touching me right now.
Butterflies are waging war in my chest, but I stay still and stare towards what I can see of his face. His eyes are open, and he’s staring right back at me with a blank look. I get the feeling, even in the low visibility, that I’m missing something.
My limbs ache with the desire to wrap themselves around him. I’m hesitant. I’m nervous.
He breaks the silence with a whisper. “Can I?”
I’m not sure exactly what he means, but I think I would agree to anything he asked of me right now.
“Yes.”
He slides into the space beside me and pulls me close. We almost end up back in the same position we started in.
I’m stunned by how well Miles fits in all the right places.
In addition to the lines my thoughts are crossing, we’re surely crossing some physical ones.
I do cuddle with my friends occasionally, this doesn’t reallyhaveto mean anything deeper than it does with them. We’re both probably a little starved for human contact, and what better solution?
I dare to drape my leg over him again, and it skims over averyhard ridge. Every single thought I just had flies from my head quicker than I’ve ever experienced. A hot bolt of electricity shoots through me, telling my body that it has a problem to fix. I move my leg away from the issue, because I donotagree with it. I can’t.
Miles doesn’t react, despite how obvious I made my retreat.
His lack of action helps to ground me, and my heart rate slowly starts to even out.
“Good night, A.” His whisper is hoarse.
