He tries to hide his smile by having another bite. But I wait him out. “You deserved to be snarked at.”
“Oh, really.”
“You’re fussing over me.”
His words still don’t have much confidence behind them, but they seem to be coming easier. “Sorry that I care.”
“I like it … that you care.” His smile turns sly. “But I’m a grown-ass adult who will tell you if your fish is shit.”
I bark out a loud laugh before I can stop myself. It’s less from amusement and more because Ziggy caught me completely off guard.
“You choking?” Hart asks.
“I’m good. I’m good.”
“Great. But if you do start choking, do it silently. Some of us are trying to enjoy our dinner.”
I flip him off, and when I turn my dopey grin back on Ziggy, he’s glaring Hart’s way.
“He’s joking,” I assure him.
Ziggy doesn’t answer, just glares deeper.
“Hey …” This time, I tap his thigh to pull his attention back to me. “If I can’t fuss over you, you can’t be all stabby over me.” I’m saying it because I’m supposed to, but I can’t say I hate the way Ziggy is offended on my behalf. It gives the impression he cares, and I’d almost forgotten what that’s like.
I’d almost forgotten about, well, all of this. Feeling that closeness to someone. That addictive want to be around them. Knowing that he makes me happy just by being here.
“You’ve barely spoken all day,” I point out. “Is it something that comes and goes?”
He nods.
“And it’s gone now?”
His laugh is quick and soft. “N-no. I … it’s harder. For me.”
“Do I make it hard?”
He shakes his head hard, eyes meeting mine. “You make it easy.”
Those four words, barely louder than a breath, bring my heart alive. All I’ve ever wanted was to make things easier for the people I care about, and when it comes to Ziggy, I haven’t even activelytried. I’ve only been myself.
Something that’s never been enough for anyone before.
He doesn’t know all the annoying, messed-up sides to me yet, so I know that will change eventually, but for now … well, for now, it feels really fucking amazing.
Ziggy sees me. And I hope he knows I need him to.
I’ve never had this kind of bone-deep friendship before, and I want to cling to it and refuse to let go.
But I won’t. Because that’s not a normal thing that friends do.
That reminder doesn’t stop me from pushing my luck though. “Want to make that trip into Wayward tomorrow? Look up solar things?” I’m holding my breath, waiting for an answer. The way I want him to say yes is gripping me, but I refuse to show it outwardly.
If Ziggy wants to spend time with me, he will.
If he doesn’t, well, I’ll just hole up in bed for the next week and cry about what a failure of a human I am.
His pretty lips pull up in the corners, and it’s impossible not to watch them. “Okay.”
