And that’s where I am, almost naked, when Cody walks in carrying clothes. He freezes when he sees me, and I pause drying myself to look at him. His eyes are wide; he’s definitely ogling me, despite trying not to. One look at him and I can tell, he can’t keep his gaze from lingering, from traveling slowly over my body. It rests on my boxers, and I know he remembers exactly what’s underneath them. Good. That means he still wants me at least. Maybe I can use it?
“S-sorry,” he says, embarrassed, and before I can reply, he’s already dropped dry clothes on the counter, snatched up my wet ones, and disappeared from view. I’m disappointed by how quickly he left, but the way he looked at me definitely offers a silver lining.
I continue drying myself off, feeling a lot better than before I came here. Not only am I no longer cold, wet, and alone, but I also know Cody still wants me. That part hasn’t changed, and because of it, I can’t keep myself from smiling.
Several minutes later, I step out of the bathroom, completely dry except for my hair, which is still damp and will be for a while. I decided to wear only Cody’s sweater and my underwear. The shirt says, “Toronto University.” It’s too big for me, but I love it already. It’s warm and cozy, and it smells like him.
When I enter the living room and he sees me wearing his sweater as a dress, an expression of longing and conflict appears on his face. Once again, it shows that he wants me but won’t allow himself to have me. Not yet anyway, but hopefully someday soon.
I gesture at myself. “The pants were too big and not really comfortable.”
“Okay, that’s fine. Sit down, I’ll get you a blanket.”
I nod and smile at him, trying to be on my best behavior. “I’ll get the cake. I mean, if you want to eat it with me?” He remains silent, hesitation flashing on his face, and my desperation grows. “Please, Cody. That was the whole point of me coming here, the whole point of getting soaked... so I could eat cake with you.”
“Alright,” he says immediately, his expression lighter. “You get the cake; I’ll get the blanket.”
Not long after, we sit on the sofa, side by side. He’s eating his piece of cake so neatly, like a gentleman, so that nothing lands beside his mouth. Probably on purpose, because if there was even so much as a crumb on his lip, I don’t think I could have stopped myself from lapping at it and kissing him.
Still, I should be grateful. Cody and I are here together, enjoying the strawberry cake I brought. Thankfully, the rainstorm I walked through didn’t ruin it, and fighting for it proved absolutely worth it. Now I’m actually feeling good. Cody’s sweater is comfortable, his blanket draped over my legs keeps me warm, and the rain softly tapping against the glass reminds me how nice it is to be safely indoors. And not only that, but the person I want to be with is sitting beside me, enjoying dessert with me. He actually hugged me too. Maybe there is hope for us yet.
We’re not sitting that far apart, but he should be much closer if you ask me. I want to scoot toward him and lean my head against his shoulder. I long for his fingers to curl through my hair, caressing my head. I want to drape my bare leg over his and keep it there until we decide we can’t keep our hands off each other. I want him. So badly.
Fighting these urges is difficult, but maybe we can start with something small. I know I have to give him time. I told him I’d keep coming back, fighting to gain his forgiveness, waiting until he gives me another chance, and I will do just that. For as long as it takes.
I suppress a sigh. Now that I think of it, I don’t know how long Cody usually takes to forgive. After all, we only met several weeks ago, and I don’t know him that well. I only know that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, that I haven’t been able to trust anyone like I trust him, and that I want to see where it goes. Even if I have to put my fantasy of living with him in France with a French bulldog on hold. I’m not known to be the most patient person, and I’ve never had to wait to get what I want, but this will be worth it, and I can do it. I know I can.
Beside me, Cody leans forward to look out the window. “It’s still raining,” he says, his voice almost curious. The contrast between us is bizarre. He’s waiting for the rain to stop, whereas I’m waiting for the chance of a future with him. Nothing less.
“You can sleep on my couch if it continues. Or I can give you a ride home.”
“On the couch?” I reply before I can stop myself, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“Yes, on the couch.”
If it were up to me, I’d be in bed with him, but that doesn’t seem like an option. But then, I must admit that the prospect of sleeping on Cody’s couch is much better than returning to my old bedroom in my dad’s house. I don’t look forward to that. If I’m sleeping on Cody’s couch, at least he’ll be nearby, and it would feel a little more like home.
Maybe too much like home, in fact... If I stayed, I know I wouldn’t want to leave again.
“I should go home, or my dad will think I don’t need my room back, and I might not have a place to stay at all. And I can walk. I want to prove to you that I can take care of myself.”
Cody’s expression darkens slightly. He opens his mouth as if to object, then shuts it again, jaw tightening. Finally, he says quietly, “Okay, fine. But at least stay here until the rain lets up. I don’t want you getting sick.”
He sounds so serious about it, so concerned, and it causes my stomach to swirl. He’s so great, caring the way he does, never pretending otherwise. I already know leaving him is going to be impossible.
A lump forms in my throat but somehow, I manage to give him a slight smile and say, “Okay.”
“I’ll put on something for us to watch in the meantime,” he says, leaning toward the coffee table and reaching for the remote. “Anything particular you want to see?”
I shake my head, lacking the mental capacity to think of something. For some reason, it's as if every movie and show I ever watched has spontaneously disappeared from my memory. “Anything's fine.”
After some clicking on the remote, he restarts an episode of the Canadian sitcom he was halfway through watching. It takes some getting used to–I don't usually watch English shows without subtitles–but honestly, I’m not really focused on the show anyway. As we sit together, watching the episode, I keep wondering if it's acceptable for me to move closer to him. I don't need much; just us holding hands or our legs pressing together would be enough. Because as long as I’m sitting beside him but not touching him, this situation feels like it's missing something. It won't necessarily be unsatisfactory, but it will certainly feel incomplete.
And so, five minutes into the show, I decide to try something.
Once I’ve mastered the courage, I slowly scoot over, holding the blanket and placing it over both our laps. When he doesn't move away, I press up against him, lightly wrap my hand around his upper arm and lean my head on his shoulder. Oh yes, this is much better already…and that's even before what happens next.
To my surprise, after several seconds, he turns toward me and leans down to give me a lingering kiss on my head. Goodness. A warm tingle travels from my head to my toes. It might just be asmall gesture, but it means the world to me. Somehow, it feels more caring and intimate than anything else he could have done in this moment.
