I feel his weight sinking onto the mattress behind me. And a moment later his palm is on my back, stroking up and down, rubbing me.
Usually, after a night like tonight, I would be alone up here in my room, ruminating. Worrying about every little thing that my sister did and said. Worrying about my parents.
But everything feels different with Niko nearby.
Finally, I speak.
“I’m sorry if any of that was intensely awkward for you, Niko.”
“Not even slightly. You want to know something weird?”
“Yes. Please. Always.”
“I feel like I belong here more than I even belonged in my own house,” Niko says. “You guys actuallytalk. Talk things out, talk about your feelings, express yourselves. My mom… she’s like a fucking wall made of ice. One time she came home and told me that Ben, a man she was dating for an entireyear, was thrown in jail for embezzlement, and would be in prison for six years. She said it without crying. Without expressing even a shred of emotion.”
“What the fuck?”
I turn back to look at him.
He looks so arrestingly beautiful in the ambient glow from the Christmas lights outside, with two pillows propped behind him. It’s still a shock to see him in my bed.
“Like I said. She doesn’t do emotion. Or communication. Or… baking goddamn cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning. Your mom and dad could be fighting each other every minute, and it would still be better than my house. Emily could come inside ripping a bong the size of the Christmas tree, smoking this whole house out.”
I let out a laugh, and it’s like a weight lifting from me.
“I suppose your problems make mine seem trivial.”
The image of Callum swirls through my mind, and my spine feels cold.
He’s still out there.
Probably still heavily weighing on Niko’s mind.
Just because we’re in our cozy little winter snowglobe for Christmas doesn’t mean that reality isn’t waiting for us on the other side.
I finally get under the covers and let myself cuddle close to him.
I run my hands over his arms.
I don’t care if I’d usually stop myself from doing it. I don’t want to do anything else.
“Your problems are real, too,” he says softly. “But I promise I like being in your world, Ollie.”
I watch his gaze dance around my room.
Suddenly I’m aware of each heartbeat thudding in my chest.
How do I feel so right with you, right now?
Why am I letting myself believe this?
He looks from poster to poster on my walls, the reflection of the Christmas lights faintly dotting each one.
“Which movie was your favorite, as a kid?” he asks.
I stare at the framed poster at the center of the opposite wall, and I reach out to point at it.
“Hercules. Without a doubt. No question.”
