He loves books and coffee. I’ve never been into either, but for him, I’m willing to give both a try.
If I ever get out of this form.
Even if I don’t, I can be here for him while he enjoys coffee and books. He could sit on me and read and sip his coffee, content with his life, knowing his mate is helping him rest after a long or lazy day.
They bring in the other couches and my mate’s friend takes his leave. We’re alone for the first time, and a shiver rolls overmy leather. We’ll be alone every day like this for the rest of our lives. I can’t wait.
He looks over at me as if he’s afraid, but I can detect the curiosity and faint arousal behind his gaze. “You are extraordinary,” he murmurs as he walks over to me. “Really extraordinary. I’ll figure out what it is about you one day. For now, I’m beat. Mind if I take a seat?”
No, not fucking at all, I want to shout. Please sit on me.
His tinkling laughter fills the room, and he says, “I’m talking to a recliner. I’ve lost my mind.”
He turns around and I get a nice look at his firm backside before he lowers himself. “Oh god, you’re comfortable. Totally different from how you look.” He runs a light finger over my left armrest, then slowly peels the tape off. I shiver as he rubs the wide crack. “Even your imperfections are soft. What is it about you, my fantastic smelling recliner?” He laughs again. “Okay, I’m done talking to furniture.”
Mav sighs and burrows himself into my cushions and I breathe him in. He smells like sweat and sunlight, like happiness and magic. I can sniff at him all day and never get tired.
Fuck, it feels so good for my mate to rest on me. I wish I had arms so I could wrap them around him, holding him close as he relaxes.
He reaches down and toggles my handle, letting up my foot rest. A long sigh leaves his lips, and I feel as if tears are pricking my nonexistent eyes. This is what I want, what I was made for. To bring comfort to my mate.
I hope I can always be there like this for him.
six
MAVERICK
“And done,”I say aloud, taking a step back to look at the wall decor. It looks great, set up exactly how I want it. When I left Walt, I left all my decor behind, not wanting to take the time to pull shit off the walls.
Walt was involved in picking out wall decorations and pictures, and he had awful taste. I must have really been in love to ignore how tacky he made our place look. The colors clashed, the pictures too loud, not blending with any of the furniture. The setup was atrocious, none of the pictures aligning, no matter how hard I tried to fix them. It was a fucking mess.
But now, I have everything how I want, the pictures, hanging shelves with plants and photos, inspirational quotes. It looks fucking great.
I grab my phone and snap a picture, sending it to Sawyer.
Me: What do you think?
He responds quickly,making me bark a laugh at his reply.
Sawyer: SOOOOOO much better than Walt’s bullshit. Most of it even matches your hideous recliner.
I lookup at my wall and realize that he’s right. There are a bunch of navies and greens and deep violets that look great with my recliner.
Huh, was that a conscious choice on my part, or did I just like the stuff I bought, and it just happened to match?
I’m going to go with the latter because the former is too weird to even consider.
I shoot Sawyer a text back.
Me: My recliner is not hideous! It has flair, and it smells good, and is comfortable as fuck. When you visit, you have to sit on it. It might be old, but it’s held up in the years since production.
Sawyer: I’ll take your word for it. We still on for your housewarming next weekend?
Next weekend ismy first full weekend off. As a pastry chef, my days are usually pretty chill—waking up at four in the morning to get to the bakery by five to start breakfast, then off by one or two once the normal daily rush is over. Recently, my boss has been training me to take over the day-to-day job as well as manage the kitchen, so I’ve been pretty busy. But he gave me next weekend off after all my hard work.
I invited my friends over so they can see my new place, and we can hang out without Walt breathing down our necks.
Walt hated when I had company, always lingering around, asking what we were doing but never joining. A few times, he tried to start an argument so he could kick my friends out and he could have me to himself. Just being weird.
