Page 44 of Follows with Intent

“I’m begging you.”

Jadon surprised himself with a quick smile. “I appreciate the concern.”

“I don’t want to break in a new partner,” Cerise said as she pushed open the door to the stairwell. “Dhan’s excited to see you tomorrow. At our Halloween party. On time.”

Jadon tried to swallow a groan.

“I believe the invitation includes a plus one.”

“Goodnight,” Jadon said, and he chose not to acknowledge the smirk as Cerise cut her eyes toward Nico’s room again.

Jadon made his way down the hall and stopped in the doorway. Nico stood in the middle of the room. He was still in the trousers and quarter-zip, staring at his suitcase on the floor. After what felt like a long time, he looked up, his face was unreadable.

“If you’re staying here,” Jadon said. “I’m staying here.”

Nico opened his mouth.

But Jadon spoke first, pointing to the second bed. “It’s not a discussion, Nico. Right there.”

Nico pushed fingers through his hair. Then he nodded.

“I’ll let you change—”

“I’m sorry I shouted at you.” Nico shifted his weight. Some of that shaggy hair fell over his eyes. “Will you please come in and not stand there?”

So, Jadon stepped into the room. It seemed smaller with the door shut. The two of them taking up almost all the space. But fitting, somehow. Like their bodies were lock and key. Like everything lined up the way it should.

“I know you think I’m overreacting,” Nico said. “I know I’m overreacting. I—I—” For a moment, he looked like he was about to cry.

Jadon moved before he could tell himself not to. He slid his arms around Nico, and Nico melted into him. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but his breath came in little bird-wing flutters, and Jadon made soothing noises as he rubbed Nico’s back.

“I told you,” Nico finally whispered. “About what happened. With that guy.”

Those three little bursts of words contained a lot: being betrayed, being drugged, being kidnapped, being forced to endure darkness and isolation and mind games, thinking you were about to die. Nico had told Jadon some of it in those strangely confessional texts. Other parts, Jadon had learned on his own, piecing together the story. Because it had mattered. Because it had happened to Nico.

Still rubbing Nico’s back, Jadon said, “This isn’t the same, okay? I want you to understand that. You’re not alone. You’re not on your own. You’re going to be safe.”

Nico’s breathing slowed. The air that moved across Jadon’s neck was hot and dry, and the skin there was sensitive to each tiny puff, to the faint hint of stubble on Nico’s cheek when he burrowed more deeply into Jadon, to the contact of skin on skin. One of Nico’s legs was slotted between Jadon’s, and he was painfully aware of how their bodies lined up, of the slight tremors in Nico’s body that made it feel like he was vibrating against Jadon.

“I hate feeling like this,” he mumbled into Jadon’s shoulder. “I thought I was done feeling like this.”

“It’s a process.” Jadon kept his hand moving across Nico’s back. “Ups and downs.”

“I hate feeling helpless. I’m not helpless.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am, actually. I froze.”

“You didn’t freeze. You ran, and then, when you found help, you improvised a weapon and defended yourself.”

“It felt a lot like freezing.”

“You didn’t freeze.” Then, making his voice lighter, Jadon added, “But a little tip for next time: keep running until you’re somewhere with a lot of other people.”

Nico stilled. And then he laughed softly into Jadon’s shoulder and shook his head. He moved like he might pull away. “I’m sorry. God, I’m being ridiculous. You probably think I’m insane.”

Before he could think about it too much, Jadon found Nico’s hand and clasped it in his own. He brought Nico’s fingers to his chest, pressed them against the shirt, and moved them until he felt the familiar ridges of the scars there. Nico’s breathing changed.

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