“Nothing,” he murmurs, forcing a faint smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
Maverick starts to walk past me, but he pauses at the edge of the counter, his fingers tapping lightly against the countertop.
He doesn’t look at me when he says it.
“Would it be weird if I... laid down with you?”
His question catches me off guard. His words come out softly and uncertainly, making him seem vulnerable. But there’s something in his voice that makes my chest feel a little tight.
I shouldn’t say yes. I should protect the space I’ve established for myself.
But instead, I nod.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Maverick follows as we both head into my bedroom.
I slip under the covers first, pulling the sheet up to my chest. Maverick follows and lies behind me. We face away from each other, backs to backs, creating a safe, awkward line that divides us down the middle of the mattress.
The bed dips under his weight, and I can feel the faint shift in the mattress as he adjusts, like he’s trying not to breathe too loud.
Rex jumps back onto the bed and settles himself between us like a living, hissing barrier.
Maverick mutters, “Jesus,” as Rex bares his little gremlin teeth and lets out a long, guttural hiss.
I press my face into the pillow to hide the laugh that slips out.
“He’ll love me one day,” Maverick says quietly.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I murmur, a small smile tugging at my mouth.
Rex circles once, making sure to smack Maverick in the back with his tail before settling down between us.
Silence falls again, but it’s softer now.
I stare at the shadows dancing along the wall, cast by the faint city glow slipping through the blinds. The apartment is quiet again, save for the steady rhythm of Maverick’s breathing beside me.
He didn’t say what was wrong; he just asked if he could lie with me, and I let him.
Now, with the warmth of his body radiating near mine, the silence feels less jarring. Almost comforting.
The first thingthat rouses me from sleep isn’t sunlight.
It’s a voice.
A painfully high-pitched, off-key voice.
My eyes blink open to the soft morning rays filtering in through the curtains. I push the blanket off and sit up slowly, trying to shake off the fog of sleep still clinging to my mind.
Maverick’s attempt at singing under his breath comes into auditory reach.
“With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride…”
You’re joking.
I silently walk barefoot into the kitchen, still wearing the oversized, dark gray shirt I pulled on last night, my hair probably a tangled mess, and my face creased from the pillow.
The second I step into the doorway, I freeze.
