Page 40 of Faithful

“It’s fine,” I say to reassure him. “I can just spend my day in bed, smelling the pillows you slept on and watching your anime so I can make you a character chart.”

The corners of his lips tilt up a little. Not quite a smile, but close enough.

“I’ll try to get done early,” Kai says, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on my shoulder.

* * *

He comes back to the hotel room an hour before I have to depart for the airport, and we have an early, extremely platonic dinner. Minimal kissing. Maximum discussion about the latest episode of the anime we watched last night where the protagonist of the story reveals his identity.

The weird thing about this whole nonphysical interaction is that I don’t feel like I’m missing out.

* * *

It’s late Sunday night when my plane lands at Sea-Tac.

Back at the apartment, I find Leigh in the living room cozied up in the chair in front of the TV, devouring another carton of ice cream.

“I’m going to pretend you went on a camping trip and forgot your phone,” she says in a snappy tone as I make a beeline for my room in hopes of avoiding a confrontation.

“I sorta did.”

She turns around and scans my outfit, her eyes lingering on my gym bag the longest. “Right.” Next comes an eye roll.

“I was in Nashville,” I explain, not really seeing the point in keeping my relationship with Kai a secret in front of Leigh. She did catch us red-handed. I’m also getting exhausted from hiding shit all the time. I believe I’ve reached the point where I need to talk to someone about it or I’ll just blow up, and I trust Leigh.

“So that’s why you didn’t bother to respond to any of my texts and let me know you weren’t kidnapped?”

“Iwaskidnapped.”

“By the sexy Satan offspring?” She waggles her eyebrows.

“God, that sounds really perverted, Farley.”

“Yeah, well, I need to know if you’re going out of state, Watson. I’ve been freaking out all weekend.”

“Sorry?”

She sets the ice cream container on the coffee table and rises to her feet. “Nashville, huh?”

I let my bag fall to the floor and walk over to the fridge to get a bottle of water. “Didn’t see much of it.”

“I bet.” She settles at the breakfast nook, her eyes following my every move as I stumble around the tiny kitchen.

I turn to look at her. “Do you think it’s stupid? What I’m doing? With him?”

“The question is”–Leigh pinches the bridge of her nose, her voice growing serious–“what are you doing, Dylan?”

“I don’t know.”

“I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re fucking a guy you wanted dead a year ago. Or he’s fucking you. Or whatever. I don’t need the details. Not my business. But you get the idea.”

“I get the idea, yes.”

“Good. So you can probably understand that I’m not the best person to advise you on this matter.”

“I understand.”

“Just go with your gut and I’m here if you need me, alright?”

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