Dark eyes meet mine for a long beat, searching for something in them, and just when I think he might ask me why, he gives me a soft smile instead.
“You can lay down. You don’t have to sleep sitting up.”
I scrunch my nose up. “I only do that when my stomach hurts.”
His eyes soften and I find myself staring right back into them easily when he asks “How does your stomach feel now?”
Shrugging, I slide down an inch. “It’s fine.”
“Like aching but I can deal with it, fine? Or I’m pretending it doesn’t hurt, fine?”
I scoff and slip another inch down the wall.
“It’s just fine. Doesn’t hurt but doesn’t feel great either.”
“How about your ribs?”
My mouth opens to respond then slams shut.How the fuck did he know about that?
“They ache, but I can deal with it.”
His smile makes my face feel hot.
“There it is. How about your head? How’s that?”
“Is this Operation? Do you have to dissect each piece individually in order to come to a diagnosis?”
“No.” He licks his lips, the movement drawing my eyes down to his mouth. “I’m trying to get an honest answer.”
Oh.
Why does that make my stomach clench?
“I’m sorry,” I mutter and pull my legs up to hug my knees.
“Em.”
I drag in a breath then look at him. “Yeah?”
“I trust you to tell me. I just want to make sure.”
I nod, though I don’t let him see the way his statement makes my eyes burn. I think he can tell anyway because he pats the mattress near my feet, ending the conversation, and with a gentle voice he tells me to lie down.
“It’s been a long fucking day.”
My head bobs in agreement, the weight of the day pulling me down to the bed.
And after a long, ceiling-stare moment, I turn my head to look at him and he’sright there. Sharing the pillow. So close that the ghost of his breath teases my nose.
It’s almost enough to have me bolting from the bed and sleeping on the floor.
But then he’s cracking open one of those brown eyes I’ve seen somewhere before and looks right at me like heseesme.
It does something to me. Something I can’t explain.
“I’m gay,” I mutter before I can chicken out.
His lips curl up on one side and my stomach clenches. “Hi, Gay. I’m Tristen.”
