Page 14 of Yours to Break

The night was spent curled up together on his couch, laughing at stupid dating profiles, drinking much more wine than necessary, and falling asleep to an octopus documentary.

Lane was more than generous with his touch; if we were together, it was highly likely he was touching me. At the beginning of our friendship, it confused me. I nervously jerked away on more than one occasion; now I soaked it up whenever I could, like a plant reaching for sunlight.

It was interesting when I thought about it. Lane was used to being touched a lot, but not used to it feeling good; whereas I would consider myself touch-starved, but nervous about actually being touched. To be clear, Lane and I didn’t touch each other likethat. I think what made us so comfortable with one another was that we knew it wouldn’t ever be sexual, so there were no worries about cuddling turning into more.

Lane was single, but dying to be in a relationship. I would’ve been lying if I said I wanted him to be in one, but just thinking that made me feel like a bad friend. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to be happy–that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him. The truth of the matter was that I was terrified of losing him.

I knew Lane, and I knew that he’d devote himself to his future partner. But where would that leave me?

Alone.

The thought of someone else getting his softness, his loyalty, and his laughter was hard to swallow.

It wasn’t fair of me. I wasn’t offering him anything. I wasn’t in love with him, not in the way he needed someone to be. But Ilovedhim. God, I loved him. And that love lived in the smallest things: holding his hand in crowded places, brushing his hair back when he was tired, listening to the same stories again and again just to see the light in his eyes when he told them.

I think that’s why the idea of him finding someone scared me. Not just because he wouldn’t need me anymore, but because I wasn’t sure I’d know how to get close to anyone else. Lane was my safe place. My constant. And if someone came along and swept him up, gave him all the things I never could, what would I be?

The best friend. The past tense.

The person he used to need.

* * *

I woke up in the middle of the night to the feeling of eyes on me. As my vision adjusted, two big blue orbs came into view. The anxiety quickly faded, and I smiled sleepily at Lane’s cat, Chloe, as she blinked down at me from the top of the back of the couch.

The room was still tinted in blue from the paused documentary, the screen frozen on a tentacle mid-reach. Lane was fast asleep beside me, mouth slightly open, cheek smushed into my shoulder.

I didn’t move, even if I sort of needed to pee.

There was something so precious and valuable about moments like this, where nothing was expected of me and I didn’t have to be bratty, clever, fun, oron.

Just here.

And with Lane, being here had always been enough. That was the dangerous part.

Because the longer I sat there, the more I realized how rare that feeling was. How little of it I had outside of him. And how, one day, someone else would be waking up to him like this. Someone else would get to laugh at his snark and cuddle him and hold his hand in public like it wasn’t a miracle.

And I would just be a chapter—a story he told someone new with a soft smile and a fond shake of his head.

I wanted to believe I’d be happy for him, that I’d clap and cheer and mean every word if he finally foundthe one. But being there in the half-dark, strangely-wise cat eyes peering down at me, I couldn’t lie to myself.

I wasn’t sure I’d survive the ending.

* * *

“Your cousin goes missing as you’re being stalked?” I narrowed my eyes. “Isn’t that suspicious?”

Lane had been awoken by a frantic phone call from his mother; his cousin had gone missing. The cousin that I knew he had ahistorywith. However, I wasn’t entirely sure what that history consisted of.

He nonchalantly shrugged as he poured out two bowls of cereal for our breakfast. He commented, “I mean, not really. He lives like twelve hours from here. I highly doubt my stalker traveled all that way to burn his trailer. Maybe he upset an ex or something? Or maybe he killed himself and burnt his stuff before doing it.”

“Sounds like you’re super worried for your cousin’s well-being,” I retorted, somewhat surprised at his demeanor.

“Super concerned,” he droned, sounding bored with the topic. “Do you need to get to the shop soon?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll just eat this and go. I have someone coming by before lunch to drop off a china cabinet.”

“Ah, yes, very exciting stuff.” Lane rolled his eyes.

---