Chapter 10 #2
He was on the sofa where I left him, head tipped back, the fingers of one hand massaging the bridge of his nose. He jolted a little when I cleared my throat, but he didn’t budge otherwise.
“So. We have…problem.”
That got him to sit up all the way. “Don’t tell me that fucker followed us here.”
My eyes went wide. “Oh. No. I don’t think so.
” I fought the urge to run outside and check, but even if he did get to this place, he didn’t have the code for the door.
“No, is just…” I bit my lip for a second.
“My sister’s staying with me. She’s gone for the rest of the week, but the other room with a bed is hers.
She’s not a fan of people in her space.”
Micah’s expression dropped. “Hey, it’s cool. I can probably grab a hotel, or…”
“What? No! Sleepover,” I said. I felt suddenly frantic to keep him here. “And you can have my bed. I can sleep on sofa—”
“Vanya, I mean this in a kind way. Like, I know I’m kind of a dick, but I promise I’m not trying to be one right now.”
I lifted a brow. “Dick about what?”
Micah’s fingers traced over the top of the cushion to his right. “I can tell you bought this for the aesthetic. The way it looks,” he added. “Which is one thing I will never understand about sighted people. Why the fuck do you people keep getting uncomfortable things just because they look nice?”
“I—well…”
He wasn’t wrong. The sofa was not the most comfortable bit of furniture I owned. But I didn’t buy it. It came with the house. I hadn’t wanted to bother with decorating or anything like that, so they negotiated the cost of the furniture, and the only thing I got for myself was my bed.
And my bed was comfortable.
“Sorry,” Micah said softly. “But you can’t sleep on this thing.”
“Okay, maybe you’re right. But the floor—”
“Vanya!”
I froze, silent and confused.
He let out a puff of air. “You’re not sleeping on the floor of your own home either. I can get a hotel.”
I crossed the room and flopped next to him, yanking his hand in between both of mine, and I squeezed. “Tonight was bad.” I licked my lips, searching for all the right words. “That man is bad.”
“Yes,” Micah whispered.
“I want you to be safe. So stay here. I can sleep on the floor, or—”
“Or in the bed. I’m assuming you don’t have a tiny-ass twin mattress, right?”
I puffed up my chest. “The man at the store, he calling it Texas king. Can fit six of me.”
That was maybe a stretch, but it wasn’t too far off from the truth.
The bed took up most of the room’s space, and I loved it.
But the idea of Micah being in bed with me, it suddenly felt like the entire universe wasn’t enough space to keep me from accidentally reaching for the thing I desperately wanted.
Micah laughed softly. “I mean…yeah, okay. I think that could work. And it’s not like we haven’t…you know.”
I did know. God, how I knew. How I wanted. “Yes.”
“So we can be mature and sleep in a bed together,” he said.
When I met his statement with silence, he offered me a tiny grin. I felt something inside me unknot—a coiled rope unraveling and settling heavily in my gut. But it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.
Slapping my hands on my thighs, I pushed to my feet. “Okay. I show you the way.”
Micah set his hand on my shoulder, and I led him to the bedroom, which, luckily, was both sparse and clean. I wasn’t the tidiest person, but my clothes were always put away, and I didn’t have more than the bed, a nightstand, and a dresser.
Micah grazed his fingers along each piece of furniture, then found the bathroom and felt his way around the toilet, shower, and sink as I pulled back the covers on the bed and made sure there were enough pillows for him to get comfortable, and for me to make a barrier if I had to.
I hadn’t shared a bed with someone in so, so long.
Not since I was young, hiding little trysts as a teenager because getting found out would have ended in the worst possible way.
I’d had one boyfriend after moving to Boston, but it had lasted less than two months when I caught him in bed with the bartender who worked at the spot not too far from my house.
His name was Rem, and he used the excuse that all hockey players cheat on the road, so why shouldn’t he be allowed to have fun too.
The world he’d come from was so different from mine, and the reality was, as much as I was hurt, I also didn’t want to stand in the way of the things he wanted. He wanted freedom, where I wanted to be tied down, and there was no middle ground for us.
I hooked up after that. It wasn’t hard to find someone wanting and willing while I was on the road or in the off-season when I had a few weeks to myself. But I could always tell that none of them wanted the life I did.
And I was starting to think I was the odd man out.
It wasn’t until I met Jonah and his friends that I realized, even if we were the exception to the rule, there were others out there like me. Others who craved stability and quiet. Others who wanted to settle into something softer and kinder, that felt like forever.
And I was pretty sure now, I had.
It was just a matter of being patient and waiting for him to be ready too.
I didn’t trust all the rumors I’d heard about Micah. I wasn’t that foolish a person. But I also wouldn’t assume he wasn’t like everyone else I’d come across. And I wasn’t going to assume he was into someone like me.
“Alright,” he said, coming out of the bathroom. I could hear the murmur of the toilet having been flushed, and he looked a bit more relaxed. “I forgot my bag in the foyer, and I can’t remember if I brought pajamas, so—”
“Is okay. I have plenty.” I sidestepped him as he made his way toward the bed, and I dug into my drawer for a pair of sweatpants that would fit. I was bigger than him, but I didn’t think he’d care that much.
“Just a T-shirt, if you have it,” he said as he sat down on the edge of the mattress. “I mean, if it won’t offend your delicate sensibilities if I sleep in my boxers.”
“No, no. Trust me, my sensibilities—” I said the word very slowly and very carefully, which made him laugh. “—they’re very strong and sturdy. Very Russian.”
“Oh my god,” he murmured with an even wider grin.
I turned and grabbed a T-shirt out of my drawer, then walked over and pressed it against the back of his hand.
“Here. Very comfortable.” I didn’t watch as he stood up to strip out of his clothes, but when I turned back, he was in the shirt that hung down to his thighs, his boxers just a little bit longer than the hem.
He looked so fucking good it made my teeth ache with the desire to lean over and bite the curve of his shoulder.
Fuck, I hadn’t wanted someone like this in a long, long time.
I had no idea what to do with myself.
“I will go get burritos. We can put on a movie, get comfy, put crumbs in the bed.”
He snorted and shook his head as he climbed up on the mattress, then made his way toward the headboard. It was tempting to watch his lithe body move around to get comfortable, but I’d made a promise, and I was going to keep it.
I took my time grabbing his bags and our food, then snagged a couple of water bottles from the fridge for good measure. I wanted him to know my place, to feel safe moving around in it, but for now, this would have to do.
I could keep everything he needed at arm’s reach so he could breathe, because I couldn’t even begin to guess how he was feeling. If it had been me—if my space had been violated that same way—I didn’t think I would have handled it half as well.
“You’re quiet,” he said when I walked back into the room.
“Is that bad thing?” I walked over and set everything on the edge of the bed, then kicked my house shoes under the bed frame so Micah wouldn’t trip over them if he got up.
“Sometimes. Not tonight. Everything feels like a lot.”
I let out a sigh of sympathy as I climbed up beside him. He’d tucked himself into the covers, looking small amongst all my pillows. And ridiculously adorable, though I’d be keeping that thought to myself.
“Hungry?” I asked as I dragged everything closer. I set his burrito on his lap, and he traced the shape with the tips of his fingers.
“I probably should eat. Ben will be up my ass if I don’t.” He made no move to unwrap his food, and I wasn’t going to be the asshole who did it for him.
Instead, I pulled one side of the foil off mine and took a massive bite. His head turned slightly, like he was tilting his ear toward me, and his breathing was soft and even. Maybe my presence was soothing. Maybe it was irritating.
He was hard to read.
“Thanks for this,” he said after a long moment. “I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Is what friends do,” I reminded him. I had a feeling he forgot that more often than he remembered he had people in his life willing to be there for him.