She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I'm going to use the washroom before we go, okay?"
"Yeah, okay."
Jesus. What the hell is wrong with me? If only I could have beaten ski mask's face in and brought him back to her as a prize.
The walk home is quiet, but when I ask if she wants to stay up and watch a movie with me, she says yes. I kind of wonderif she just wants to stay up to see Dax when he gets home, but even so, I'm okay with it. We pick the newest Paranormal Activity movie, but she passes out about thirty minutes into it.
About fifteen minutes after that, she shifts in her sleep until she's resting her head on my shoulder. I freeze up, resisting the reflex to shrug her off. And then she wraps her arm around my waist and burrows further into my side.
She didn't mean to, I tell myself.This isn't like the other times; she's just sleeping. And she's used to sleeping with Dax. He likes this.
I decide to wait a few minutes before moving her. Saige has actually been really good about my boundaries; she hasn't pushed even once.
Maybe that's why I've gotten so attached to her. I usually don't even make it this far with someone without them slipping their hands under my clothes and saying something like,If you just let me do it, I know I'll make you like it.
Or, even better,If you can stick your dick in me, but you can't even hold me, you must not really like me. I don't even have a rational argument for that one.
But this isn't so bad. It feels like practice in a way. She's not conscious to judge me, so I'm not worried about her perceiving my discomfort, and that alone helps me relax. I'm not worried about all the things I'm doing wrong or what's going to happen after I fuck this up. I can just be. I can focus on my body and talk myself through it, like I am now.
Saige isn't him. Saige smells like vanilla and those little white flowers that grow up the trellises in front of my grandparents' house. She loves the dog sleeping beside her on thecouch enough to risk her life for her. She probably loves Dax, too.
Her middle name is Rose, and she used to write poetry and wake up happy, but she hasn't been like that in a long time. She's not him.
I grab the blanket from the back of the couch and pull it down over the two of us.
After a while, I get used to her weight and warmth against me, and it's almost comfortable…like being with Dax. I don't end up moving her—not during the movie and not after, either. She looks too perfect like this. I just stay here, trapped, staring down at her long after the movie ends.
This is much better than watching the fish.
It's after one in the morning when she finally stirs. Her hand moves from my waistline to my stomach and then up my chest before she snaps back into herself and jumps back.
"Oh, shit," she says. "Nolan, I'm so sorry. I didn't—"
I place both hands on her cheeks. "It's okay. It's all right. You don't have to be sorry."
"But I wouldn't—"
This time, I silence her with my lips against hers. She's too stunned for the first few seconds to kiss me back, but then she does.
Her lips are so damn soft and perfect. I think—no, I know—she's even more panicked than I am. It's a welcome change. She lets me lead, lets me trace the space between her lips with my tongue…slowly, before pulling away.
"I know you wouldn't, Saige. Let me tell you something, okay?"
She nods. "Okay..."
"I won't leave. I don't view our relationship as transactional. I like you, Saige; I really fucking like you, I just don't know how to show you that. I don't have money, and I can't hold you like Dax does. I'm not good with words, and I'm emotionally illiterate."
"I don't think that's true…"
"I'm not done yet. I'm going to disappoint you—I know I do it already—but I won't leave."
She stares at me for a minute, confusion in her sad brown eyes while she searches my own. "You like me?"
"Have you been paying attention? Yes, I like you. I think you're fucking perfect."
"I'm pretty messed up."
"You'remessed up? Look who you're talking to."
