Micah evaded my gaze. “I think I took too many.”
“Youthink?”
“Yeah. I took three when I shoulda took two. And I forgot to buy more Nurofen, so I figured I needed a bit more.”
“You could’ve asked me to get some painkillers for you. In fact, you could’ve just asked me where I keep them in the flat.”
“You have some?”
“Yes, Micah. It’s a pretty common household item.”
Though I guessed it had been a long time since Micah had last lived in a regular household. Swanky bachelor pads, flashy cars, and more money than sense didn’t seem to come with much self-care and normality.
I left him and fetched a sensible dose of ibuprofen from the kitchen cupboard. When I got back, he was in my bed, stretched out on his side, a pillow tucked under his head like he was a permanent fixture. My heart flipped. We’d had so many conversations about why being together was a bad idea, but none about where we were going as we seemed to be doing it anyway. What if he woke up one day and went back to his own room? Shut the door in my face and stayed there? Micah was by nature unpredictable, unreadable, and thoroughly unreasonable. Was I strong enough to deal if this really did blow up in my face?
Anxiety coursed through me as I realised I had no idea. I loved him so much, and he loved me too, but what if it wasn’t enough?
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop staring like a weirdo and come keep me warm.”
I crossed the room in a heartbeat and slid under the covers. “You’re cold?”
“Nah. Just wanted you.”
He deposited his head in my lap, his arms loosely around my waist. His eyes drooped shut and I let my hands find their way home to his hair. I wanted more than anything to slide down beside him and doze the night away, but my treacherous imagination wouldn’t quit. “Can I ask you something?”
“’Bout what?”
“About your leg. I mean, apart from the other week, has this happened before?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I want to know if you’ve been in so much pain you can’t walk and I haven’t noticed.”
Micah sighed. “Why? It’s not your job to look after me. Do you know how embarrassing this is?”
“About as embarrassing as that time I came home so drunk I tried to take a piss in the shoe cupboard?”
“Worse. You’re cute when you’re drunk. I’m a useless heap of shit when I’m like this.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you didn’t answer my question.” I rubbed the knots out of his neck. “Though I guess maybe you did with what you didn’t say.”
“Dude, I’m way too stoned to follow when you say shit like that.”
I was talking mostly to myself, but Micah’s dazed expression was so comical that a laugh escaped me. It sounded unnatural in the dim quiet of my bedroom, but humour danced in his eyes too, and I knew that, for tonight at least, we’d be okay.
* * *
Micah slept through dinner, which was just as well, considering I didn’t order the healthy crap he liked and gorged myself on fried dough balls while he rested. I set season five ofBreaking Badup on Netflix—I’d promised Micah I’d catch up so we could watchEl Caminowhen it came out, but as hooked as I was on Walt and Jesse, it was hard to concentrate on their meth-cooking adventures while Micah was so utterly beautiful beside me.
When I was done eating, I cleared up, filled a plate for him to heat later if he wanted it, and crept back into the bedroom. He was still on his side, head resting on one arm, face buried in my favourite pillow. I reclaimed my space and slid down to his level. His soft hair was forever tempting, but his cheekbones enchanted me. I’d always loved his eyes, but with them hidden by sleep, I wasn’t distracted by how troubled they were. I was free to stroke my thumb over his cheek without worry, trail my fingers down his neck, and ghost my palm along his torso.
