“I will do that,” Dad agrees.
I grin because I know he will. We talk for a while longer as Dad tells me about the rest of my brothers and sisters, my mother, my nieces, and nephews, and I fill him in on the gossip that Ellie and Paul share with me, which I find super funny howinvested he is in it. Then again, maybe he’s just enjoying our conversation.
Either way, when the call ends, I feel good about having talked to Dad about maybe not having kids. Out of curiosity, I open the MOS site and navigate to Julian’s profile. Sure enough, that’s where I’d gotten the idea he didn’t want kids. It’s not that he doesn’t want them. It says, and I quote, “I could take them or leave them.” To me that reads that he doesn’t particularly want kids.
I nearly jump out of my seat when a face pops up over the privacy wall to my right. “HI!” they shout. Then they proceed to laugh as I try to right myself, my heart beating wildly in my chest as I stare at them.
“Hi,” I say cautiously.
“My name is Skylar. Pronouns—she/her/they/zolcorus.”
I blink. “What’s a zolcorus?”
“Well…” she says, tilting her head. “It’s like a genderless unicorn dragon. A hybrid combination, you know?”
I nod slowly. “Okay, cool. I’m Arush.”
“Pronouns?”
Grinning, I tell her, “He/him.”
“Okay, cool,” Skylar repeats. She turns her face up to the sun and sighs. “I’ve been waiting ages for the despian croolgite to pull back the lenizen so I can feel the fingers of the almighty gollian against my cheeks.”
What the hell is she saying? I have no words, so I just blink at her. When I don’t respond, Skylar looks at me and rolls her eyes. “I’ve missed the sun on my skin,” she deadpans.
I laugh. “Yeah, I know. You don’t need to spell it out for me like I’m a rugworm.”
The way she grins at me tells me that the people around her don’t often play along. Before either of us can say anythingfurther, the sliding door behind her opens and she turns her head.
“Get down from there or you’re going to fall to your death,” the man chastises.
Skylar sighs heavily and disappears as the door shuts. But then I see her eye peeking at me from the space where the foggy glass doesn’t quite meet the edge. “Hrolians, right?”
“The worst,” I agree. “Always trying to clip our wings. Obviously, the ramicals of the svink will keep you from falling to your death.”
I can see her grin in response and I smile.
This is how we spend the rest of the morning. We eat lunch together with the privacy wall separating us, talking nonsense that I couldn’t repeat if I tried. As far as days alone go, today has been one of the best.
CHAPTER 17
JULIAN
The first thingI’m conscious of is that I’m in my own bed. I know it’s my bed because there’s no bed I’ve ever been in that’s nearly as comfortable. It’s basically the single piece of furniture I bring with me when I move.
The second thing is that my fingers are loosely tangled with Arush’s. It’s not the first time I’ve woken up like that. What I find the most satisfying about it is that we don’t go to sleep that way. Somehow, in the night, our hands come together.
It brings a smile to my face every time.
I roll to my side and find that we’re far closer together this morning than usual. It’s the first night home since my week away and I think this is probably reflective of the fact that we missed each other.
Arush is still asleep. He’s on his side, facing me already. I’ve never hugged him in bed. We’ve always kept it PG as far as the distance between us is concerned. I think I hugged him no less than a dozen times yesterday when I got home, though. I want to feel him in my arms.
This morning, I give into that need. I reach for Arush and gently pull him to me. His eyes flutter open sleepily to look at me, and then close again. But now, he reaches for me too.
His arms come around me, pulling me to his chest. His leg comes up and over my hip as he buries me in his hold. I grin and close my eyes, hugging him tightly as I breathe him in as deeply as I can, so the only thing that fills me is Arush-tinted oxygen.
Every single time I’m in his arms, I realize how desperately I’ve wanted to be held. I’m a little more aware of it every single time, and when we part, I crave it all that much more. All the little touches. The soft brushes of our hands together. The press of our legs when we watch television.
