Page 110 of Play Along

Isaiah’s words are echoing in my ears as I crawl into two feet of space between him and the wall, angling my body to face him.

“Fuck, Ken. I don’t want you on the floor.”

“You’re on the floor, so why can’t I be?”

“Because you’re my wife.”

The words come out sharp, like he forgot that though we’re technically married right now, soon enough, we won’t be.

He lifts his head, urging me to lift mine, only to slip his one and only pillow behind my head, leaving his own to rest on the ground.

Then he takes his blanket off his body and drapes it over me.

“Isaiah, what’s going on?”

He shakes his head. “Please forget you saw anything. I don’t let people see me this way.”

I can attest to that. I’ve never seen him this way. Frazzled. Uncomfortable. Not smiling through a shitty situation.

His bare chest is right there in front of me, and I want to touch him. Feel him.

Do what feels good.

Without concern if my hands are too cold or anything else I could overthink, I reach out, placing my palm over his heart before running it up over his skin to gently hook around the back of his neck, keeping us connected.

His eyes close at the contact, nostrils flaring through an exhale.

“I don’t let people see my weaknesses either, Isaiah. But still you know all of them.”

“There’s nothing weak about you, Kenny. You’re just a perfectionist who doesn’t see how perfect she already is.” He places his hand over mine, behind his neck, fingers toying with my wedding ring. “Please go back to bed. This is fucking embarrassing.”

“Why? Because someone is seeing you be something other than arrogant or happy? This isn’t going to make me like you any less. In fact, knowing that life affects you might make me like you even more.”

“I don’t know how that’s possible. We both know how absolutely obsessed you are with me already.”

A tick of a smile raises on the corners of his lips before it immediately falls.

I lift, moving the pillow, and Isaiah accepts it back under his head, but I only give him half, keeping the other half for myself because I’m not going anywhere, and neither is he.

I try to give him back some of the blanket, but it’s too small to cover two people.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” My voice is a whisper. “Whatever is going on, you care about your brother enough to call him. Cody and Travis too. How is that embarrassing?” I toy with the ends of his hair, overgrown around the nape of his neck. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but you also said I should do what feels good and laying down here with you feels good to me. So I’m going to stay.”

His brows furrow, more emotion shining in his eyes than I’ve ever seen, but he doesn’t say anything else and neither do I. I simply keep my hand on him and close my eyes, willing the sleep to come.

It almost does. I’m not sure how much time passes, but I’m seconds away from sleep, random thoughts blurring my mind, when Isaiah finally admits, “I’ve always cared, Kenny. Too much sometimes, but people don’t want that guy. Who wants to hang around the guy who has anxiety attacks over the fucking weather?”

The constant smiles, the playful jokes. Isaiah has endless friends. He tends to be the center of attention and maybe that’s because he knows how to play the part and be exactly who people want him to be.

“I do.”

His eyes search my face, his mouth opening as if he wants to say something, then closing when he changes his mind.

“I want to be around that guy,” I repeat.

I don’t break away from the eye contact I’m not accustomed to or the physical closeness I tend to avoid. I stay, running the pad of my thumb across his stubble.

Because I want to. Because it feels good to be here.

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