Chapter 8 #2
Oh, together then. Yep. That makes complete and total sense. The bed looms in its corner of the room. Before this moment, I hadn’t given any thought to what the sleeping arrangements would be. A major oversight on my part. In my defense, I was far more worried about my house than anything else.
Thankfully, the couch is pretty comfortable.
“I’ll take the sofa,” I offer. It’s comfortable, which was a major reason why I selected it in the first place.
“Nix, that’s ridiculous.” Chase closes his computer and sets it on the coffee table.
“I’ll order a sleeping bag or something tomorrow for the rest of the week.” Maybe I should consider getting a pull-out sofa. They don’t usually look as nice, but it would be functional. Families might appreciate the ability to have children in the space. Another thing to look into tomorrow.
“Just sleep in the bed with me. It’s plenty big enough for the both of us.”
Oh, sure. Just sleep in a bed with my lifelong crush. What could possibly go wrong?
Everything. Everything could go wrong.
What if I roll over and start cuddling him in the middle of the night?
What if I get an erection?
Oh, God. What if I start humping him? That’s never happened before, but this would be the perfect moment for me to develop a new habit.
“Seriously. Just get in the bed. Pick whichever side you want.”
Right. We’re just casually sleeping together. Two grown men. Nothing for anyone to get excited about.
Nothing.
“I guess I’ll take this side,” I say, pulling back the comforter. “That way, when I get up, I won’t disturb you.” And if I need to make a run for it at some point, it’ll be easy to get away.
“Perfect.” I’m not sure if he’s kidding or not, but I’ll take it. It’s only eight hours. Plus, I’ll be unconscious for most of it. Hopefully.
He crawls into his spot first, arranging the pillow into position. It’d be weird to ask to put a pillow between us, right?
Right.
If it was Russ here, I wouldn’t think twice about it. But I’ve never had a crush on Russ. Never jerked off to images of him bent over in my bookstore.
Shit. Now I’m thinking about jerking off.
I keep to the edge as I settle into bed, finding a position that’s technically on the mattress, but only by the strictest definition.
“You can have some more space. I don’t bite.”
I have to purse my lips to keep from saying anything. Mostly because the only thing I can think of is that I might like it if he did bite me.
Gently, because pain isn’t really my thing, but still. It sounds hot in the right context.
“I’m good. I like to be close to the edge.”
He doesn’t argue, which is good because I don’t have a reasonable response. At least not one that would stand up to inspection.
Counting sheep is supposedly a good way to fall asleep. I’ve adapted it to my own personal interests and instead imagine stocking a bookshelf, endlessly moving books from a box to the shelves. Tonight, I pick the section on nineteenth-century history, a period I find particularly interesting.
So many great books depict the strangeness that was the Victorian era. Except, it’s hard to picture when Chase keeps shifting his weight back and forth. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“Is something wrong? You can stay up if you want to?” Even going to bed late by my standards is still early for most people our age.
“It’s not that.” I hold my breath, waiting for him to tell me he’s uncomfortable sharing a bed with me. “Promise you won’t think it’s weird?”
“I promise.” Whatever it is, I can practically guarantee that I’ve heard or done worse.
“I typically sleep naked.”
That’s not what I was expecting from a late-night confession. Honestly, I think I’d be less shocked if he admitted to murdering someone and feeding the body to sharks. “Um…okay?”
Nope. If he’s sleeping naked, I’ll find some other solution to this problem. The couch will not be far enough away for me to manage that situation. I can’t be in the same room as naked Chase Haywood and be expected to be on my best behavior. Or even respectable behavior.
“Obviously, I’m not going to do that.”
“Obviously.” And I’m totally not imagining what he would look like naked right now. I’ve caught a few peeks when he’s out running. Those abs alone would be enough for me to spontaneously combust. Add in the chiseled thighs he has on display in those way too small shorts, and I’m a goner.
“Would you mind if I maybe slept in just my briefs?”
Would I mind? Um, no, but it’ll severely impair my ability not to spend the whole night aroused. “Yeah, that’s fine. Whatever you need to be comfortable.”
Someday, I’m going to learn to shut my mouth. Today is not that day.
As he gets up and presumably strips off his t-shirt and pajama pants, I stare straight ahead at the wall. It might be dark, but I don’t even want the opportunity to imagine I can see anything.
“Thanks,” he says as the mattress dips as he crawls back in. “That’s so much better. I feel like I can move now. Plus, even with the AC, I always sleep hot. Fair warning, I’ll probably kick the blankets off at some point in the middle of the night.”
It’s not fair. This has to be some sort of test. One I didn’t spend enough time studying for. Am I being punished for something I did in a past life?
“Good night.”
“Night.”
Yep, I’m definitely going to fail this exam. What I’m not sure of is whether that’s a bad thing.