Hungry, I forced myself away from him and into the kitchen. There was still bread and ham. Eggs and a handful of vegetables. I made a giant omelette and stuck it under the grill to finish off. Then I made thick slices of toast with butter and pretended my dad didn’t have to spend the rest of his life on statins and eating Benecol.
I was texting my mum when Micah limped into the kitchen. “You should’ve woken me. I’m not supposed to sleep too much during the day.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Bad habits.”
I waited a moment to see if he’d elaborate. He didn’t, but he did move close enough that I could feel his body heat and smell his familiar scent. He peered over my shoulder at the message I was sending my mum. “She okay?”
“Yeah. Just facing the music. She told me to hug you from her while I was up there.”
“Go on then.”
I put my phone down and wrapped my arms around him. He was bed-warm and solid, and his answering embrace was glorious. I didn’t want it to end, but my grumbling stomach forced me to let him go. “Are you hungry?”
Micah nodded absently and sat on a stool. “Did you tell your mum I was MIA?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Two reasons.” I flipped the omelette onto the board and sliced it up. “Firstly, that she had enough to worry about, and second, I needed a break from it. If I’d told her, she’d have wanted to talk it to death, even with all the drama going on with my dad, and I couldn’t face it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“For putting you in a position where my shit alienated you from your family. It’s wrong, man.”
“You didn’t alienate me from anything. I made a conscious decision not to tell her.”
Micah chewed on his bottom lip. I freed it with my thumb and dragged him in for a quick kiss. “Look, can we not do the blame thing? I feel like we’re stuck in a misunderstood plot hole as it is.”
“A what?”
“The big misunderstanding. It’s an overused plot device in fiction, in my opinion, at least. My lit teacher loves it. Says it’s representative of a modern world that’s forgotten how to communicate without technology.”
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“Never mind.” I loaded plates and brought them to the counter. We ate in silence for a few minutes before a question that had been burning me up inside abruptly couldn’t wait any longer. “Can I ask you something?”
“If you want.”
“It’s kind of personal.”
“So?”
“So, I want to give you the chance to tell me to mind my own business.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
Micah shook his head. “So I can fuck you till you bite a hole in my pillow, but you can’t ask me a simple question? That’s not how it works.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not about sex.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Ask me anything. I don’t care.”
