I don’t know what contractions feel like, but I think I just had one.
He turns on his phone’s flashlight and stands, pulling me to my feet.
“Where’s that portable power bank for your phone? Let’s get it and we can watch a movie.”
I drag the rumpled cotton quilt off the couch and push our shoes under the coffee table as we drop back into the pillow nest.
“Do you have to do anything for the properties when it storms like this?”
“Not usually. We don’t have any big trees near the buildings, and the power’s out for most of this neighborhood, so there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ll answer messages for a while, even if all I do is remind people I handle maintenance. I can’t control thunderstorms.”
“I don’t know. You handle my storms pretty well.”
“Punk, as much as I want to, I haven’t handled anything yet. When you’re ready to let me, I’ll handle it.”
Well. Dang. That was …assertive.
I blink at him for a minute and then change the subject. “I don’t know if I can stay awake.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll stay here and protect you.” His little smirky-smirk has returned, and it should be illegal.
“Jace is working at the hospital, and you don’t want to be alone in the dark, huh?”
“You know he’s a Lego guy. Our house is treacherous terrain in broad daylight. I’m not risking it in the dark.”
Daniel’s roommate, Jace, and I have a love/irritate relationship. We’ve harassed each other since the moment he gave me my keys on move-in day. We coexist in a constant state of retaliation, but there’s a base level of mutual respect.
I grudgingly accept free guitar lessons from time to time, even if he is the most obnoxious son of a biscuit eater I’ve ever met. DC’s just as good, but we always start singing or talking and get distracted. And Jace pushes me more. That may explain why I always want to slap him.
In retaliation for who knows what, I once stole tiny pieces of his Lego models and kept them for weeks until DC made me give them back. Jace was losing his mind tearing their townhouse apart, and I paid for itdearly. He pelted me in the butt with a Nerf gun from the front door all the way to my car with ridiculous accuracy. Who knew Nerf guns could shoot that many continuous rounds?
It was a painful lesson but worth it. Nothing, however, is as painful as stepping on one of those tiny plastic abominations.
Daniel starts upBill and Ted’s Excellent Adventureon my phone and props it in front of us with the volume low. I flop forward on my pillow, facing the screen, and he situates his pillow behind him, leaning back the opposite way against the couch with his leg against my side. I’m a little disappointed that he doesn’t lie down here with me since he’s my emotional support human, but I manage to resist the urge to curl around his leg like a baby koala.
I could use a good koala about now.
Ugh, I’ve got to stop this.
Lightning still flashes, but he says it’s headed north of us, and the only weather alert is a thunderstorm warning that’s now ending sooner than originally forecast. I have no idea which way north is, but if he wants to stay here and babysit me, who am I to argue?
We watch DC’s favorite ’80s movie in mostly darkened silence for a few minutes, and I’m quickly drifting off to sleep with him holding my foot through the blanket like the weirdo that he is.
It’s like no time has passed when Daniel leans down to tell me the power’s back on and he’s going home.
“I’ll lock the door if you want to go to bed. Do you need an alarm?”
“Noooo,” I groan without opening my eyes. “Staaay.”
“I can’t stay. I’m going to have a lot of calls bright and early.” He laughs softly. “And I don’t think your fiancé would appreciate it.”
Ouch. He’s not wrong.
With my eyes still mostly closed, I stretch my arms out, and he pulls me up.
“Happy birthday, DC. I’ll try to be less needy today … but later,” I say, reaching around his neck for a hug.
Apparently, I became a hugger when I moved to Johnson City.
