Ian does so much for me, and he cares more about me than anyone ever has. It's about time I return the favor, even if it's with something as basic and deceivingly intimate as covering him up.
I step backward out of the room, watching the rise and fall of his body to make sure he stays asleep. I fill up a glass in the kitchen and place it on his nightstand, and as I'm about to leave, I notice another blanket draped over his desk chair. It's frigid out tonight, and he could use another one, especially since he’s always so cold. I shake it out and place it on top of his comforter, careful not to wake him up, but I'm not careful enough to avoid accidentally hitting him in the face with a corner.
Luckily, he only mumbles something unintelligible before curling into the newly added weight and?—
Oh no, he smiles.
I think my stomach sinks, or maybe it jumps or rises, but it doesn't matter. My heart reacts to him again.
He's cute. He's so damn cute, and I'm so damn weak, so much so that I steal another lingering look at his beautiful face before I leave for the couch.
Ian is so peaceful.
Peaceful and oblivious to how hard I'm falling for him.
For a fleeting second, I let myself entertain the thought that in another life, I might have the stones to flirt with him for real. But the only life I have is the one I'm living—I’m a mess, Ian's amazing, and we’re friends. That’s more than I could have possibly dreamed of when I first came here, and there’s no way I’m gonna mess that up.
I settle in for the night and pull the covers over me, hoping they block out the fact that this is Ian's house and his presence is everywhere, and all I get is a lungful of his cologne lingering on the blanket. This time, it's my stomach that lurches with some kind of achy longing that’s so strong I almost growl through my gritted teeth.
Why does he have to smell so good? Why did he have to pick a fragrance that wires my nostrils to my dick and makes my heart go all stupid?
Above all, why does he have to be so freaking perfect?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
IAN
Holy shit, did I know what relaxation was before today? I check my watch to make sure I didn’t accidentally sleep for three days straight, and nope, I didn’t. I just slept like a damn rock. Or a boulder.
Hell, I don't even remember coming back in last night.
Hold up. The last thing I remember before passing out was chilling with Callum on the couch, and now I'm here.
I'm here in bed, it’s past noon, and I'm tangled up in my comforter and my desk blanket. There's no way I would have thought to carry that to bed, which means…
Did Callum tuck me in?
Oh my god, he totally did.
And oh my god, my stomach flips like heck. It isn’t every day that I let someone take care of me, and I would never ask, but I was asleep. He did it anyway.
I think I’m in love. In a platonic way, of course, especially after he all but confirmed, again, that he isn't into men. Not that it was any surprise, but hey, that confirmation is stabilizing, and now I can go back to doing what I was before I met him.
Which is essentially condemning myself to celibacy until my sensitive, battered nerves recover from the last few guys who objectively didn't do anythingthatterrible.
Ugh.
I roll over to check my phone, and then I feel it in my pocket. Figures. I pull it out to plug it in, and?—
There's a glass of water on the nightstand.
Callum gave me water.
Oh my fuck, he gave me water! He thought about me!
Okay, calm down. It's just water.
But he cared enough to get a glass, fill it up, and put it on my nightstand, all afterphysically carrying me to bedwhen I passed out.
