His head drops to my chest, and his whole body shudders and jerks as he holds in a sob. At least, that’s what I think he’s doing. He rolls off of me onto the bed and immediately covers his eyes with his elbow.
“Sorry,” he repeats, his tone full of what I can only interpret as anguish.
I don’t know what’s wrong, and it might not even be anything specific, I realize as I slowly turn onto my side to face him. He’s pale, even his lips, and he looks exhausted and cold, even though it’s quite warm in my room.
My heart aches. Whatever’s going on in his head can’t be good.
Slowly, I reach out and set my hand on his stomach, and I scoot myself closer to him. He doesn’t pull away, but he also doesn’t move at all, not even to lower his arm. I prop myself up onto my elbow, and then I lean in and brush a kiss against his temple.
“I’m here for you,” I say, even though I have no idea if that’s what he needs. I kiss him again, lingering close with my lips this time. Quietly, I suggest, “How about I just hold you? And we go to sleep?”
There’s a moment of hesitation that Ifeel, a tension in the air. But then he nods once.
“Good, okay.” I push myself up, and he follows, lowering his arm from his eyes and then sitting up. He’s still shaking, but he’s doing a better job of hiding it now.
I wish he knew he didn’t have to hide anything from me. He doesn’t have to pretend if he’s not feeling well. But that’s another conversation for another day.
I stand up and cross the room to turn the light off, and when I turn back around, enough weak moonlight peeks through the shutters for me to just make out his still figure now buried under the covers, the blanket pulled all the way up to his chin, his back to me. I pad quietly back to the bed and climb in behind him, and before I even get settled, he pushes back against me, nearly begging me to hold him.
So I do. I lower my head onto the pillow, slip my arm around his waist, and let my hand slide up his chest. His hand joins mine,and he sighs, deeply and fully. I kiss the side of his neck and tighten my arm around him. And he sighs again.
“Thank you. I-I’m okay,” he mumbles. “I’m okay.”
“Okay. Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He shivers, but it seems to just be a quick chill or something. “It’s just been a long day. A lot of stuff to think about. And m-my mom. And... yeah.”
I nod against him, hoping he feels it, and then I breathe him in and brush my lips against his skin. “Let’s get some rest?”
“Yeah.” He’s silent for a moment, then he says, “Good night, Alex.”
I hug him to me. “Good night, Nico.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nico
AlldayonFriday,the library is about as quiet as it’s been in the two weeks since I started working there, and the last few hours of my shift are blissfully uneventful, just like the rest of the week after that fucking awful day on Tuesday.
Caitlin is still working on something at the circulation desk when it’s time for me to go, and I force a smile and an awkward wave as I leave.
“Have a great weekend. See you Monday!” she says, grinning up at me.
I manage a nod in response and then make the words come. “You too. See you Monday.”
A moment later, I’m out the door, walking across the parking lot, staring at my car as my hand slips down into my pocket to grasp my wallet. I’ve got exactly five hundred dollars in it, the wad of twenty-dollar bills barely fitting. I had to borrow forty bucks from Alex, since my paycheck was a little less than I expected.
But I’m okay with that. I think.
He didn’t bat an eye when I asked earlier on my lunch break. He just pulled his wallet out, fished out the two twenties, and handed them to me with a smile. Then he went back to scarfing down his sandwich as though it weren’t a big deal.
And maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s not a big deal. I’ll pay him back next Friday, and after that, I’ll save every penny I can so this whole moving-to-California thing can have some chance to work.
I unlock the door and slip into the driver’s seat, pushing thoughts of California out of my mind. I’m still scared to think about it much. There are too many what-ifs, too many chances for everything to fail, and I have enough on my plate tonight. Or at least, one really big thing that I’m terrified of.
I can already feel my chest tightening as I start up my car and back out of the parking spot, and by the time I’m on the road, headed to my mom’s house, my fingers are starting to go numb. Maybe I shouldn’t have convinced Alex to go to Omaha after all. He was reluctant, kept insisting he should go to my mom’s with me. But I didn’t want that—both because I didn’t want him to see her awful side, especially if she decides to be awfulto him, and because I didn’t want him to miss out on something I knew he wanted to do. Being my best friend or my boyfriend, if that’s what he is, shouldn’t mean he has to give up doing things he loves because of my anxiety.
So I’m by myself. And I’m fucking terrified.
