The lack of resistance on his part tells me just how tired he really is as he flops down and rolls to the wall.
Even with as small as he is, there’s not much room left for me, but I make it work as I settle on the edge and keep as much space for him as I can.
“Wait!” he says almost too loud with how close we are, our heads on the same flat pillow as I pull the blanket up over us. “What about your contacts?”
I blink, hand frozen in midair.
Fuck me, he remembered that?
My nod is slow and my stomach flips as I make my way back out to the duffel I left in the living room.
I make quick work of switching out my contacts for my glasses, blinking like a whole weight has been lifted from my eyeballs, a relief I didn’t know I needed settling over my face.
Jesus.
“Oh.”
“What?” I ask Emmett and shimmy back into the bed next to him and pull the blanket up to cover my chest. It leaves my whole ass hanging out, but he’s got enough to cover him.
“Those are … your … they’re—”
He swallows hard and points at my face with bunched brows.
Snorting, I settle my head next to his and it makes the frames on my face tilt. His head appears wonky, like he’s got a shadow in HD.
“They’re what?”
His cheeks take on a pinkness that shaves away some of the darkness he carries with him always.
“They’re …” he whispers, chewing on his lip, “cute.”
This time, it’smyface that goes hot.
“Thanks,” I whisper back sheepishly, the unexpected compliment settling somewhere deep in my stomach.
He thinks my glasses are cute. Holy shit.
“You’re welcome,” he says back near soundlessly.
We end up just … staring at each other with heavy eyelids and nearly touching noses, his breath tickling my lip.
I lift a hand up to scratch it at the same time he reaches across, our hands colliding in the small space between.
A laugh bubbles up my throat, the corner of his lips tipping the slightest, and I grab his hand. Flatten it against my jaw. Settle mine over his lightly.
Having his skin on mine feels like walking barefoot in fresh grass, warm and grounding.
I sigh into his touch, my eyes sliding closed.
“I know this wasn’t what you meant to do but,shit, it’s nice.”
He makes a low humming noise. “I just wanted to …” he trails off and swipes a finger across my cheek, the tip touching the frames leaning on my nose. “Sorry.”
“No apologies, bubbles,” I mumble, his digit still running gently over my cheek, his nail touching my glasses and running along the bottom curve. “Feels nice.”
His skin grows warmer. His touch gentle.
“Did you always want to be an EMT?” he asks softly and shifts closer, his feet pressing into mine.
