Page 24 of Nothing To Lose
"I don't want to be alone," he whispers.
His defeated tone breaks my heart a little, and I pull him into me on instinct. He melts into the hug, letting me know he needs the contact just as much as I do.A sense of peace settles over me, having him back here where I can see he's safe. But that same intuition that something's off pokes at the back of my senses.
"You can stay here as long as you need or want to."
"Are you sure? Because I might never leave. I'm like a stray cat that you fed one time, and now I'll be at your doorstep every time I get hungry."
I laugh out loud at that, and muss his hair. "I’ve always wanted a cat."
* * *
Well,this was a terrible idea.
"I'm not going to stay here if you're not going to sleep in your own bed," he said.
"And I'm not going to be able to sleep worrying you're uncomfortable," I said.
"This is fine," I thought. "What's the worst that could happen?" I told myself.
"I'm not really a cuddler," he said. "Me neither," I said.
Liars, both of us.
Mostly me.
He was fast asleep by the time I got out of the shower and pulled on some sleep shorts and a tank top last night. True to his word, he kept to the far side of the bed. It was me that crossed over the boundary of the pillow wall. At the first sign of a whimper in his sleep, I'd pulled him against me. He settled immediately, so I let him sleep there like that, his back against my chest.
That was bad enough. Now it’s worse.So much worse.
At some point in the night, we shifted, and now we're tangled together, legs intertwined. One of my hands is under his shirt, my palm flat against the warm, bare skin of his stomach. And of course, my morning wood is rock hard, pressing against the small of his back. When he shifts, stretching his spine and pushing his ass back into me, I have to choke back an entirely inappropriate groan.
Eyes still shut and mumbling, Tyler turns his body, wrapping his arms around my middle. His thigh is nestled between my legs, dangerously close to adiresituation. He hugs me close, nuzzling his face into my chest. Despite being afraid he'll wake up and be horrified, I can't help but chuckle. He's cute as shit, even if I'm extremely uncomfortable.
I lay there, completely transfixed, for a long time before he stirs again. His sleepy eyes blink slowly as they open, deep pools that look more blue than green in the dim morning light. I can't help but to fall into them, drowning, almost forgetting everything else. The air between us is heavy, and my eyes fall to his lips when he angles his face to look up at me fully. Before I can do anything stupid, like roll on top of him and kiss him breathless, he must remember where he is, and his body goes stiff with horror.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry."
My chest shakes with laughter. "Why are you sorry?"
"Uh, I basically forced you to share your bed with me, promised I'd give you your space, and then attached myself to you like a koala."
He wiggles to extricate himself, but I tighten my grip on his waist, not wanting him to shift the wrong way and notice my pre-dick-ament. His thigh brushes against me, and I hold my breath. A small gasp falls from his lips, and they form into an "O" of realization. Or maybe that's the horror I was expecting. With a pained expression, he tries to move again, but the sheets are tangled around our legs, practically tying us together. The more frantically he tries to escape, the worse it gets.
Despite my own discomfort, I can't help the way my unhinged laughter shakes the whole bed. My laughter is cut off by a choking sound when our attempts to get out of the sheets push Tyler nearly on top of me, and it becomes clear I'm not the only one with asituationthis morning.
My eyes widen. "Shit, sorry."
"No, it's fine," he chokes, blushing furiously—which is not making the situation any better.
I practically lift him off me, kicking the sheet away to put space between us.
Sitting up to hide just how much worse my raging boner has gotten, I try to laugh it off to make things less awkward. "Good morning, I guess."
He groans loudly, his face buried in his hands. After a couple of slow, deep breaths, he reaches over the side of the bed and grabs my hoodie he’s claimed as his own. He yanks it on, pulling it down to cover his crotch and jumping up from the bed.
"I'm really sorry," he says in a high-pitched voice, then shuffles off, presumably to use the bathroom.
I fall back on the bed, looking up at the drop ceiling, categorizing whatever dust or watermarks I see. It helps me to settle myself, and by the time Tyler comes back from the bathroom, I'm standing in the kitchen, morning wood mostly deflated, picking through what's left of the pastries. I suggest we go to breakfast once we're dressed, and Tyler closes himself in the bedroom while I take a turn in the bathroom.
