Page 18 of The Art of Dying

“What?”

“It feels as good as I thought it would.”

I made a face. “For me to be wearing your T-shirt?”

“I dunno. It’s a guy thing, I guess.”

“A possessive thing?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But not in a bad way. In a proud way. I’m not going to get weird or anything.”

“Good. I’ve had enough of weird.”

“Sounds like it was more than just weird. I’ll tell you what, you give me a chance, and I’ll convince you that dirt bag was just a bad egg.”

“A bad egg?” I repeated, breathing out a laugh. I nuzzled up my pillow. “You want a chance, huh?”

He nodded. “I can head out if you want, but I’m leaving that shirt right where it’s at. To be honest, though, I’d really love to hold you all night. You can say no. I’m still going to call you tomorrow.”

I watched him for a moment and then gently pushed him onto his back, laying my head on his chest and putting my leg over his.

He wrapped his arms around me and sighed, his entire body relaxing. I wasn’t sure how long it took for me to fall asleep, but I knew it was going to be the best sleep I’d had in a long time. Kitsch made me feel safe—calm even. For someone I barely knew, being around him made me feel a comfort I couldn’t explain, as if we’d fallen asleep together every night for years. We just fit, like a lock and key. Like we had always been. That should’ve been enough for me to panic and send him packing, but instead I hugged him close and settled in, those thoughts carrying me into unconsciousness.

chapter five.

Kitsch

Mack fell asleep in my arms. I stared at the ceiling fan for the few hours we still had before sunrise, kissing her hair once in a while, but I didn’t dare move. She didn’t flinch or adjust, she just lay there with her cheek against my chest, her arm over my middle, almost comatose like she hadn’t slept in years.

While she breathed softly, I worried, wondering what she would say when she woke up; if she’d say it was a mistake, if I should tell her I’d just had the best night of my life or if I should play it cool, if I was just the best option in Quincy at the moment, or if she felt the same way I felt for her. It wasn’t often I couldn’t read people, but Mack had me questioning everything.

So, I held her. I enjoyed every minute before she woke up, just in case.

Too soon, her alarm bleated. She reached over to turn it off before settling in against me, squeezing me closer.

“Good morning,” she said with a raspy voice.

I kissed her forehead and then she looked up me, her eyes tired and a little puffy, her hair a mess. I’d never seen anything more perfect.

“I thought you’d be the kind of guy to be up making breakfast,” she said with a grin.

“It crossed my mind, then I decided I didn’t want to stop holding you.”

She let her head rest on her elbow—that was perched on my bicep. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but I didn’t care.

“I’m glad you came back,” she said.

“But…?” The question tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I wanted to punch myself for it.

She stared at me for a few seconds before answering. “That’s all. I’m glad you came back.”

I thought for a few moments and then decided to go for it. “You wanna have supper with me tonight? We don’t have to call it a date. It’s just food. I just want to spend more time with you.”

Her wide grin gave me hope.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” I repeated, a little surprised and a lot relieved.

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