Gabe
It’s late, and I sit on my bed sketching Jason sitting on the couch. I have the perfect view of him from where I am. The lamp light hits the side of his face in a way that catches his sharp cheekbones, and his tattoos look even more pronounced on his illuminated skin.
He’s scrolling on his phone, and I can hear the annoying people on TikTok screaming for attention from here.
I’m still reeling from today, but dinner was honestly wonderful, and I don’t want to ruin the good vibes we’re feeling right now.
We’re not fistfighting, so I consider that the makings of a “good vibe.”
The bar is low.
Jason sets his phone on the table and stands. He walks to my bedroom door and stops.
My stomach clenches, hoping he’s not about to do something cruel.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
My mouth falls open, and my whole body feels numb.
“I shouldn’t have tried to make you talk. I don’t understand it, but I know enough that it was really fucked up. I’m sorry.”
Then he turns around and sits on the sofa.
I…
Oh god.
Never in a thousand years did I think that would happen, and I’m just—
Stop it. Okay, yeah, he apologized. As he should.
I’m about to turn off the light and go to bed, but then I remember dinner.
The way he motioned for me to sit down and eat with him.
It was an olive branch of sorts. He made the first move, inviting me into the sweet moment life was giving us.
My heart is bursting, and I can’t stop myself from doing it—
I remove his drawing from my pad and write, “Why are you sleeping out there?”
I quickly fold it into a plane and toss it toward him.
Bull’s-eye.
It hits him right in the head.
“What the fuck?” He examines the plane, then looks at me. “What are you doing?” he asks.
I motion for him to look at the plane, and he does. He starts unfolding it and finds the picture and the message.
His face twists, and my stomach clenches. Maybe it’s creepy that I was drawing him?
Yeah. That’s definitely creepy.
Fuck it.
I mean…I am creepy.
Drawing a picture of my ex-best-friend-to-crush-to-enemy-to-stepbrother-to-whatever-the-hell-this-is is nothing compared to the rest of the shit I’ve done in my life.
His eyes meet mine, and my entire body heats up when they soften.
I motion to the bed right next to me.
Jason starts to speak, then stops. He opens his mouth again, then shuts it. Finally, he takes a breath and asks, “Do you want me to sleep in there?”
The words are there, crowding the back of my throat, trying to jump out.
But I stop them.
I nod, but I don’t know if it’s very convincing, because I don’t even know if I’m convinced. I just…don’t want him out there.
Jason reads the message again, then looks at me. “Are you really sure?” he asks.
I think about the question.
Then I hear his apology and see in my mind’s eye how sweet he was when he asked me to sit down for dinner.
But what really does it is the way he looks right now.
It’s him.
It’s Jason, and that cruel mask he’s worn since he arrived is gone.
I can finally see him again.
And that means everything—more than any shitty comment or mean stare could ever overpower.
I take a deep breath, giving myself the strength to push the word out and say, “Yes,” out loud.
Jason’s mouth drops open, and my eyes stay locked on him so he knows I mean it.
Without a word, and without taking his eyes off me, he rises from the sofa and walks into the bedroom.
When he lies on his bed, I turn to him and nod.
He nods back.
Then I shut off the light.