Page 24 of Gay for Pray
“Shhh,” I say, flapping my hand. “It’s not about the plot. It’s about the vibes.”
“The vibes,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t complain any further.
In fact, he gets pretty quiet after that. My bedroom is warm, and the show is silly and light and easy. The crew is busy fighting some kind of lizard man when Theodore slouches against my shoulder. His weight presses against me, and I freeze, but he doesn’t jerk away. He only gets heavier against me, his body going limp as sleep takes him.
I don’t dare disturb him. He needed the food badly, and now that his stomach is full, it seems his body has moved on to its next most urgent need—sleep. He’s got to be exhausted, both from staying up all night and because of the effects of the drug. His body and brain got pushed to an unexpected extreme last night, and he needs time to recover.
Besides…I like this Theodore, this softer, less rigid Theodore, this Theodore who needs me, who watches silly old sci-fi shows with me, who wears sweatpants and gets his fingers greasy with bacon. There’s a real guy under that uptight facade, and it turns out he’s kind of nice to hang out with. This is a person I couldhave become friends with, rather than an antagonist I need to endure, but I have no doubt he’ll vanish by tomorrow. We’ll go right back to the Theodore who hates me, the Theodore who’s disgusted by my very presence. I’ll never get to see this side of him ever again, so I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.
His breathing goes deep and even, his weight comforting against my shoulder. I wish I could put my arm around him and hold him again, but that version of Theodore is already long gone. I’m lucky he’s still here at all.
The show drones on, and I sink against the wall at my back. The room is warm, my belly is full and Theodore is close and peaceful and smells like my soap. He’s wearing my clothes, and for the moment, at least, he doesn’t hate me. The combination of all this lulls me into a doze. I slouch against him until we’re propped against each other like falling trees holding each other up. It’s horribly awkward, and yet the most comfortable nap of my life.
I drift in and out of sleep, my dreams peppered with the wacky antics of the starship crew traipsing around planets on my laptop screen. I must fall fully asleep at some point because I lose track of an entire episode, only waking when the opening theme song plays for the next episode.
Theodore is still asleep, his head resting on my shoulder. His golden hair is a messy tuft that lies temptingly within reach, and just for today, I let myself succumb to that temptation. He’s sleeping on me, utterly relaxed, and he spent the whole night in my bed. Some piece of him probably still craves human touch. The after effects of a substance like that can be potent.
Slowly, I reach for his hair. I don’t even touch his scalp, just brush my hand along the tips of the strands, letting them tickle my palm. It’s like trying to touch a dandelion without sending the seeds flying, a tentative glance that’s so soft it’s like a whisper against my skin.
Emboldened, I stroke his hair, running my fingers through the damp strands. He mumbles, but only snuggles in closer, so I comb my fingers properly through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. Theodore sighs with contentment, his body getting heavier against mine. It’s awkward reaching across myself like this, but I don’t dare shift, enjoying petting through his hair for as long as I can.
Finally, it wakes him. He doesn’t jerk away like I expect, merely sits up so he isn’t draped against my shoulder. Thanks to the way we dozed off, he’s so close I can see the amber in his brown eyes when they search mine. I don’t know what he’s looking for or why he hasn’t jerked away. Maybe he needs touch that badly, and I’m just convenient and available.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” he says.
His voice is hushed, like we’re inside a soap bubble and speaking too loudly will break it. The moment certainly feels fragile enough to snap with a word.
“You needed help,” I say, equally quiet. “Did you really think I’d abandon you at that party when you were in a state like that?”
“Why not? We aren’t friends. You barely know me. You certainly don’t like me.”
A pang strikes my chest. I might not like the guy, but does he really think I’d leave him in a state where he couldn’t even pick himself up off the ground? I don’t want to contemplate what has made him believe any decent person would abandon him like that. It’s too depressing.
“Well, anyway,” he says. “Thank you. You’ve been kinder than I deserved.”
“Hey, don’t go all Catholic guilt on me. Anyone in your position would have deserved help.”
“You’ve done so much more than help out someone in need. I… You said I…needed to be held last night. And you even did that. You didn’t have to, not for someone you barely even know,not after how I’ve treated you. You stayed with me all night, and even now…”
He waves vaguely at us, at our close proximity, encompassing the way we napped against each other.
My heart aches. Theodore looks like he wants to leap back into my arms, whatever he might feel about me. He has no idea how much I needed last night too, though. He has no idea how good it felt to sleep next to another human, to hold him all night, to wake up warm from someone else’s body heat.
It’s probably stupid of me, but I tell him the truth.
“Yeah, I did stay with you,” I say, “but it wasn’t exactly a burden, Theodore.”
I meet his eyes, letting meaning pass between us. I don’t care if it disgusts him. This whole incident tore down several walls standing between us, and I want him to know that there are people out there who will want to touch him just for the sake of touching him, that someone—
His hand goes to my neck. With the barest ounce of pressure, he pulls me toward him, and I fall into him as easily as I slouched against him in sleep. His mouth is warm and soft and greasy with bacon and sweet with syrup and so many things all at once, and I close my eyes and soak it in greedily. My hand lands on his shoulder, bracing as I fall deeper against him, as I tremble from a kiss I never could have imagined or expected. After effects or not, he’s entirely sober now, and he initiated this.
Hewantedthis.
He pulls away abruptly, a gasp chasing the kiss. I sit stunned on the bed as he jerks to his feet, then looks around my room. In moments, he’s bundled his clothes in his arms.
“Theodore,” I say before he can flee.
That kiss was the kiss of a man who knew exactly what he wanted, and perhaps that’s why his eyes are wild when he looks at me a step from my bedroom door.
