Like the tea.
But as the seats in the stadium on the TV start spelling outTedin red and some guy with a mustache looks around, Tristen settles his back against the couch and sighs.
And then his head dips, only to jerk back up.
I try to watch the show, but Tristen keeps nodding off. Lowering his head slowly, then jumping back upright.
“You can sit on the couch.”
He throws a look over his shoulder, a soft smile playing on his plump lips, and it’s then that I realize there’s a silver ring through his nostril. It’s thin, catching the light just right, and winking at me.
How did I not notice that?
“I’m good,” he mutters on a rasp. “Don’t let me fall asleep. I’ve got my contacts in.”
I have no idea what that means, and he doesn’t clarify before turning back to the TV, only to start nodding off all over again.
“It’s daylight,” I murmur and point a toe, extending my leg to touch his arm with it. “Why are you sleepy?”
He stifles a yawn and recrosses his legs. “Night shift.”
I have no clue what that means, either.
A few minutes later, he’s leaning with his head down, sliding my direction like he’s in slow motion.
He jumps awake once, only to continue his trajectory my way when his head tips back down again.
I go to pull my leg back, clearing his path, only to realize it’ll lead him straight to the floor if I don’t do something.
“Tristen.” He doesn’t stop slipping sideways. “Don’t sleep.”
His upper body is two seconds away from crashing to the floor, so I do the only thing I can think of.
I stick my foot out and his temple collides with the side of my calf.
Instead of jolting awake like I expect, he nuzzles the fabric of the sweats I’m wearing and follows my leg when I fold it back onto the couch.
I try not to think about why I keep my foot close to the edge, making it easier for him to lean on me.
The stubble on his cheek scrapes along the material like Velcro and my face heats.
“Tristen,” I whisper but it does nothing.
Resigned to being used as what has to be the most uncomfortable pillow ever, I sink back and let him sleep under the pretext that maybe he’ll come to in a few minutes.
It’s long enough that one episode has flipped into another and the blue chairs are flipping to red all over again.
The theme song plays, but there’s something in the background of this one that sounds a little … vulgar. There’s a tiny warning at the top of the screen when the episode starts, cautioning of language—which makes all the sense considering f-bombs are thrown around like confetti—but this is different.
This is faintthat’s it, right there’s anddon’t stop’s.
My brow furrows at the TV when nothing of the sort shows on screen. In fact, the audio is playing on as if nothing is amiss. No one’s even making out on the show.
Tristen said we were the only ones here …
Leaning to reach the remote, I press mute, but the deep groans don’t stop.
There’s even a second one that chimes in, just as low toned, and I freeze.
