six
I dozedoff somewhere during episode three, just when Jonah was as obsessed with something as humanly possible. The food had been so good. And so filling. And I was curled up on my cozy couch under my comfiest blanket. I was on drink number three as well.
For someone whose job generally consisted of only nightlife, I was notoriously terrible at staying up past ten.
I woke up cradled in something more solid than my couch. The TV had the “are you still watching” popup on display, and my apartment was still but not as quiet as it usually was in the middle of the night.
It took me a couple minutes to figure out it was because of Jonah’s heavy sleep-breathing in my ear. We’d somehow tangled together. We’d been sitting next to each other, but with at least a foot of separation. We’d tipped toward each other in our passed-out-ness. So he was somehow resting his head on the back of the couch and cradling me against his chest with our feet pointing in opposite directions. My cheek rested against his chest. His rhythmic breathing steadily rose and fell.
In another life, I would have gently scooted away from him and tried not to wake him or just closed my eyes and gone back to sleep. Honestly, he made a great pillow. And he was so warm. I slept cold. Which meant I usually woke up ten times during the night to add blankets and socks to my frozen appendages. But right now, I feltperfectlywarm. Not too toasty. Not chilled at all. Just luxuriously snug from my head to my toes.
But this wasn’t a different life. This was my life. And I was bound and determined to make it the most awkward series of catastrophes possible when it came to Jonah. Also, I had drool pooling in the corner of my mouth, and I was fairly certain I’d left a splotch of wet on his T-shirt.
Which unfortunately meant that I was going to have to assume a new identity and move to Mexico. Those were the accidental drool rules. I didn’t make them.
I jumped up, taking the blanket with me and wrapping it around my shoulders like I was somehow dressed indecently. He startled awake. Full-on shot straight up and put his hands out like he was under attack.
“I’m so sorry,” I gasped, watching him shake off sleep and blink awake. “I must have fallen asleep.”
“Huh?”
Holding the blankets in a knot with one hand, I grabbed our plates and marched toward the kitchen. I was the one who had just gotten all over his case for being overly flirty with me. And then I literally threw myself on top of him.
Ugh.
It wasn’t that I was surprised we’d cuddled up unconsciously. Honestly, it wasn’t the first time. Nor would it probably be the last. But lately... lately, I was struggling more and more to turn down his casual plays for something physical. Not that it happened often. But tonight, for instance, that almost kiss. And now this, curled against his body like we were the last people on earth and needed each other’s body heat to survive the elements.
Normal, clear-headed Eliza could slot that incident into the friend zone easily. Lonely, heartsick Eliza watching her brother fall madly in love with his soul mate and wishing it was her wanted to throw the friend zone to the birds and just get laid, dammit.
Jonah was dangerous tonight. And even though I knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, I still wanted to blame him rather than take responsibility for my libido.
My blanket billowed out behind me like a royal robe. I heard it sweep the old magazines off the coffee table, but I would deal with them later.
“What time is it?” he mumbled from his spot on the couch. His voice was rough with sleep. He must have been deep in REM because I had never seen him this out of it before. Drowsy, of course. Too tired to keep his eyes open all the time. Just woken up, basically my entire childhood since he regularly slept over at our house.
But not so completely out of it that he was struggling to make sense. I couldn’t help the amused smile that lifted the corners of my mouth. But I did quickly smother it. So I should get some bonus points for that.
Glancing at my oven, I yelled back, “One thirty.”
It wasn’t even that late. Not for us anyway. The bar was still open—which seemed crazy given how deep in sleep I’d been too.
A grunting sound from the living room was followed by a suspicious silence. I assumed he was getting ready to leave while I rinsed the plates and set them in the bottom of the sink. The clean freak in me whispered that I’d be happier in the morning if I loaded them in the dishwasher right now. But honestly, that was Tomorrow Eliza’s problem. Late-Night Eliza just wanted to go back to bed.
Okay, fine. I did wipe down the counters and box up the leftovers. My refrigerator was embarrassingly empty, and I easily fit the to-go containers between the half gallon of orange juice and corked white wine from two weeks ago when Claire and I had decided we were going to find a Zinfandel we liked.
We’d failed.
Although we managed to drink almost everything. Except for that half bottle. Which I should probably throw away.
By the time I had turned off the kitchen lights and wandered back toward the living room, I fully expected Jonah to have left. But there he was, tipped over on his side, sleeping again.
I sat down on the coffee table and put my socked feet up on the couch in front of his chest. “Psst.” He didn’t even flinch. “Jonah!” I whisper-yelled. He swatted a hand in front of his face and squished his eyes tightly closed. When he put his hand down, it landed on the top of my feet. He didn’t try to move it away. I wiggled my toes. Still no response. Leaning forward, I got closer to his face. “Jonah, don’t you want to go home and sleep in your own comfy bed?”
He shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“You can’t sleep here,” I said more firmly. “You need to go home.”
“You go home,” he growled drowsily. “I’m tired.”
