“I don’t think it would be wise of us to have any sort of physical relationship from here on out.” There, simple enough.
“No?” Bo says reactively.
No?
FuckingNo?
What the fuck doesNo?mean? Does he disagree? What arrangement did he foresee us having?
“It’s already complicated…” I say slowly.
“Right.”
“And sex would just complicate things more, I think.”
“Right.” He wets his lips, nodding even still.
“My main concern is that sex could lead tomorebetween us, and then ifmorewas to end badly… that could make co-parenting or living together impossible.”
“Right,” Bo says,again.
“Right,” I echo him curtly.
“Sorry,” he says, shaking himself. “I’m catching up.”
“Well, where were you?” I ask before thinking.
He looks up to the ceiling, his hands rubbing together mindlessly between his parted knees. Once he seems to collect his thoughts, he holds eye contact with me a little too strongly for my comfort. Everywhere his eyes land on my body begins to burn. So soon enough,allof me is warm.
“Honestly,” he says, his eyes hesitant but still locked with mine. “I’m not sure. I hadn’t really thought about having rules, I guess. This is all so new, and well, if I’m being honest—”
“Rules are good, though, right?” I interrupt. If I was a betting woman, I would guess that at the end of that sentence, there’s anI’m not entirely over my ex,which, ifI’mbeing honest, I cannot bear to hear. “It’s good we talked. Boundaries and whatever else… Designed to keep us safe.” I’m unstoppable now, talking a mile a minute, making next to no sense. “This way, our focus remains on being the best team possible for the kid. We can keep things simple in an already complicated situation. That’s the goal, yeah? Successfully co-parenting.”
“That’s the goal,” Bo agrees, pressing his lips together, nodding tightly. “Of course.”
“So it’s settled, then.Platonicfriends with foetuses.” I lean back in the chair, sniffling just once. I watch as Bo brings a hand to the side of his face, his mouth leaning into it as he scratches beside his ear, smiling to himself like he’s got a secret.
“What?” I ask. “What’s that look?”
“Nothing,” he says, dropping his hand. “I heard you. Understood,” he says, voice pitching.
“Bo…” I say far too softly. Translating to him, I hope, asdon’t lie to me.
He traces his bottom lip with his thumb, then stares up at the ceiling. “If our goal is platonic… could you do me a favour?”
“Sure?” I ask, obvious confusion overtaking my voice.
“Could you keep it down? At night?”
“Huh?” I ask, seconds before my heart drops with realisation—nearly forcing it into my stomach. I immediately feel flushed, my face now burning red for all theusualreasons.
He notices, his lips twitching up just a little. “Old house, thin walls. Beautiful moaning coming from down the hall that makes me want to pull my hair out.”
This isnothappening. Iforbidthis from happening.
He doesn’t look away, his eyes narrowing on me as I stare off over his shoulder, willing myself to teleport into the fucking sun.
This isactually,truly,definitelyhappening.
