Page 21 of Capitally Engaged

“Preston?”

“Hmm?”

“What the fuck is that noise?”

“Oh, that’s my brown noise app. I can’t sleep in silence. Is that okay?”

“What would happen if I said no?”

“Well, I’d turn it off and do my best to sleep.”

Jax sighed and said nothing. I interpreted that as her giving in.

“Goodnight, Jax.”

“Goodnight.”

The last thing I heard before I drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of my body and the familiar sounds of my noise machine app pulling me under quickly, was Jax saying, “I’m never going to sleep with this.”

Several hours later, with light streaming in through the curtains and a warm body plastered to mine, showed just how mistaken she had been.

As my mind came online, I took in how Jax’s body aligned with mine. Her shoulders were flush with my chest, our legs entangled, and her ass pressed against my morning wood.

I angled my hips back first, trying to slide the rest of myself away from the still sleeping woman in my bed. Once again, I failed at keeping Jax asleep.

“Well, I guess that pillow wall didn’t do its damn job,” Jax murmured, her voice deep and raspy from sleep.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I guess we’re both heat seekers.”

“Speak for yourself, Brandt. I’m not a cuddler. Besides, you’re clearly on my side.”

I sat up and looked to my right, seeing she was absolutely correct.

“Well, shit.” I rubbed my hands down my face. The last time I shared a bed regularly . . . well, it surprised me my body didn’t stray further away out of reflex.

“It’s fine,” she said. “An unconscious body action, a fluke. These things are bound to happen in shared space like this. No big deal. Now, what’s for breakfast?”

Unless fluke had another secret meaning, it didn’t apply to our cuddling tendencies. It was not a onetime thing. Jax and I woke up the same way Sunday morning and then again on Monday. That third morning, I managed to extricate myself from the bed without waking her. Likely because it was 5:00 a.m., and I learned over the weekend that my new roommate was not a morning person. I found myself taking yet another freezing cold shower. Something had to give, or I was going to develop frostbite on my dick.

Normally my weekday mornings began with C-SPAN on the television, a few cups of coffee, and sorting emails and tasks to tackle on the day ahead. Adding an extra person in my space meant my routine needed to adjust too. Not something I handled well. I pulled on track pants and a hoodie in a rougher manner than necessary. After checking the temperature outside, I ground my teeth and added a vest and beanie for good measure. I preferred to allow the day to warm up before I experienced it, but new routines called for a few sacrifices.

Deciding to go to the café down the street and grab us some breakfast, I thought perhaps I could still salvage my morning habits and sort through the day ahead. Maybe after work I’d suggest we hammer out a new morning routine that worked for us both.

While sitting in the café, enjoying that first cup of coffee and a cheese and bacon soufflé, the solution to one of our problems struck. Gulping down the dregs of my mug, I unearthed my phone and started searching. After a few minutes of comparing options and reading top reviews, I made a choice and placed my order—miles away from my normal decision-making process, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

I practically skipped back to the apartment, carrying a drink holder with two to-go cups and a bag of chocolate croissants. I kept Jax’s coffee black, not sure what additives were safe for her stomach. At second thought, the buttery, flakey pastries may also be a terrible choice. I made a mental note to find out more about her safe foods. That term popped up a lot on the IBS websites I found myself scrolling last night while I listened to Jax’s even breathing, as sleep evaded me. I dreaded my body betraying me by pulling Jax close while we were both unconscious. If this arrangement was going to work, we needed to enforce clear boundaries, only engaging in intentional physical touch among them.

I found Jax sitting up in bed, looking at her phone, when I reentered the apartment.

“Honey, I’m home,” I said, Jax’s eyes meeting mine at my jovial tone.

“I’m not so sure honey really suits me as a pet name, but if that coffee is for me, you can call me anything you want,” she said, her arms outstretched.

“It is for you. I left it black. I realize I need to get a better handle on your food sensitivities, so I can buy things that work for you.”

I crossed the apartment to hand her the cup, and stood, hovering, not quite sure what to do with myself now that I’d delivered her drink.

Jax waved her hand, dismissing my comment. “Not your problem to worry about. Black is perfect. Coffee, in general, isn’t the best thing for me, but some mornings won’t kick start without it.”

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