Page 41 of All We Need

As if hearing my thoughts, he moans weakly. “Aly.Callmy mom.”

“Good lord.”Iroll my eyes and attempt to pull him to standing. “Helpme out here, you big baby.You’reall muscle.”

Apparently, a passing compliment is the cure, because he beams up at me, skin ashy and clammy. “Youlike my muscles?”

“I’d like you to weigh thirty pounds less.”

“Liar.”

With his arm slung over my shoulder,Idrag him down the jetty. “Wheredo you live?I’llcall you a cab.”

“Don’t bother.”Heraises a shaky finger to point at a teal-colored boathouse. “Myhumble abode awaits.”

“That’s your house?”Iask in surprise.

“Don’t—”Hebreathes deeply, andIworry he’s going to be sick again. “Don’tbe a snob.Wecan’t all live in penthouses on theUpperEastSide.”

“That wasn’t—never mind.”

I steer us toward the little shack; the silence stretching between us with each step.Halfof the house sits above the water, elevated by thick wooden stilts.Asmall wooden boat, covered in tarp, bobs in the water below.

He unhooks his arm and holds himself up against the door frame.I’mobviously not going to leave him to be pecked to death by the gulls.Butthis is awkward.

“Can you take it from here?”Iask.

He nods, still resting his head on the wood. “Lemmeget my keys.”

A few seconds pass. “You’renot moving.”

“Oh, believe me.Everythingis moving.Justgimme a sec,” he whispers.

Sighing,Imove next to him and fish my hand into his pockets.There’sno childish joke, proving how ill he is.Withhis keys located,Imake quick work of the lock before shuffling him inside and shutting the door.

It’s warmer thanIexpected, but still cold, and the wind whistles against the boarded sides.Imaginea bachelor pad meets a lobster fisherman’s grotto.Abed, sofa, and plasmaTV.That’sit.Hiskitchen seems the most equipped.Onthe narrow counters sit a stack of cookbooks, two knife blocks filled with gleaming steel, a spotless gas top stove and oven, and a huge fridge much too large for one man.

What surprises me is the coffee table littered withLEGO.Ahalf-built structure sitting in the center.Recallinghe has a niece,Ihold in my questions.

I forget whereIam, until a deep groan sounds behind me, followed by squeaking springs.Turning,IfindBoothfacedown on the mattress.

Minus his coat andT-shirt.

The corded muscles on his back flex with his deep breaths, andItry,Ireally do, but my eyes follow the path of golden skin until it reaches the dimples in his lower back.

Motherfucker.

He’s quadruple dimpled.

“Is this your first time being seasick?”

He shakes his head, andIjust make out his muffled “No.”

“Hold up.”Iwalk over and stand next to the bed, nudging his ankle with the toe of my boot. “Peteysaid he’s never seen you like this.”

He twists his neck, drowsy blue eyes on me. “Iforgot to take my anti-sickness medicine.”

My lips curl around my teeth. “Soyour plan was to get me to puke my guts up.Howdid that go for you?”

Sighing, he hides his face again. “Terribly.Now, if you’ll please leave me with some of my dignity intact, today’s tour is over.Don’tforget to leave a review.”

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