Page 62 of Felix

I shoot him a smile. “Thanks, Specs.”

He nods and disappears into the bedroom.

“Arthur,” I say quietly. “Can you keep a secret?”

The crab doesn’t budge.

“I kinda like your daddy,” I admit. “But I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had a boyfriend before.”

Arthur has no response.

“It’s scary, you know? When I stop to think about it, it freaks me out. But…when I’m with him, it doesn’t feel scary at all. He’s a man who dotes on his hermit crab. How can that be scary?”

Arthur still doesn’t reply. With a sigh, I pick myself up off the floor, gaze catching on the pictures on the wall. The three brain maps.

I don’t want my choices to be based on fear. Specs said we’re all just trying to survive. That all of the chaos in this world is proof of that fight. He also said to trust my gut.

Well, my gut is telling me there’s more to living than survival. And am I really living if I keep myself relegated to a safe, easy existence like my mom did after my dad died? She won’t let herself be happy. Not truly. She grieves the life she could have had, ignoring the one she’s been given. She’s surviving, but she’s not living.

I don’t want to end up like that. Yes, I’m scared. Scared of failure, of loss, of heartbreak, even. I’m scared I might not be enough for Emil in the end. That I might disappoint him, the same as I have my mother.

But fuck, if Specs can be brave enough to admit, even indirectly, that he’s scared of me leaving, I can be brave enough to tell him I don’t want to. Is it really so hard? It shouldn’t be.

I head to the bathroom before Emil can emerge from his room. Using my finger, I brush my mouth until it’s minty fresh. Then I step back into the hall, on a mission.

I find Specs in the kitchen, sifting through the contents of an open cupboard. He looks mildly alarmed as he spots me strutting his way. Before he can speak, I stop in front of him and open my mouth.

“Can I kiss you?”

He makes an aborted sound. “Now? Here?”

“Yes and yes.”

“I, um… Yeah,” he finally answers.

I breathe in, my chest swells, and I take Emil’s face in my hands.

His lips are soft, just like I remember, but we’re not in the studio. We’re not in front of the cameras. This is just me and Emil, kissing for no other reason than because we want to.

It doesn’t surprise me when Emil’s hands fist my shirt, pulling me closer. I bump into him, bump him into the counter. He moans, a soft sound, but there’s no doubt in my mind it’s real. And only for me.

When I pull back, Emil blinks his eyes open, and I carefully adjust his glasses on his nose. “Can I take you on a date?”

He inhales. Exhales. “Another one?”

That startles a laugh out of me. “Have we been dating without me knowing it?”

Emil licks his lips and says, “The garden felt like a date. Last night felt like a date.”

I can’t even argue it. “Can I take you on another date, then?”

His lips twitch. A small smile. “I guess that would be okay.”

“Well, shit, Specs. Don’t sound so damn excited about it.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, pushing me away before pulling me close again. We bump together, and he stares at my chest, working his lip between his teeth as his fingers twist in my shirt. His shirt. “It’s been a while since I’ve dated.”

“Yeah?” I ask, caging him against the counter. He doesn’t seem to mind.

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