At first, I thought the weight on my waist was just from the blanket, but it’s a deeper, targeted pressure than the evenly distributed weight of my 25-lb blanket.It’s an arm.
Well, no, not just an arm,Parker’sarm.It wouldn’t be anyone else’s.He’s the only person I would ever let hold me like this, especially after yesterday.I don’t even need to open my eyes to see his pale, freckled hand pressing into my stomach.In fact, I shouldn’t see that because that would make it all the more real.We’re spooning.I’m fairly certain we’ve been spooning for most of the night.I’m also certain that last night was one of the best nights of sleep I’ve gotten in a while.For the first time in months, I feel well-rested, which theoretically would be a good thing.Except that means that Parker is the reason for the good sleep, and I’m in trouble.
I should have known the cuddle arrangement would be a bad idea, that it would make things messy.But even after spending two days trying to apply logic to the situation, I couldn’t rationalize the way that first hug made me feel.I couldn’t explain away how safe I felt or how my entire body relaxed in a way I didn’t know it could.I wanted more of it.But that hug, or sitting on the couch with his arm around my shoulder, or even being plastered to his side like a koala in a blanket fort—none of it compares to how it feels to be completely enveloped by him.
Although he’s a few inches taller than me, he’s not that much bigger than me, build-wise.Yet I feel him everywhere.His chest is plastered against my back.The arm not draped over my waist is stretched out in the space between my shoulder and pillow, acting like a cradle for my neck.One of his legs is thrown over mine, and I can sort of feel his crotch pressing into me—something that is almost impossible not to focus on now that I’ve noticed it because I’m pretty sure he’s at least a little hard.I know it’s just a common morning physiological response and probably has nothing to do with me.He’s straight.But I’m very much not, and feeling his morning wood digging into my ass is not helping my own morning erection.Or my crush.
I should move.
Except I can’t, even if I wanted to.His forearm is braced across my stomach, keeping me close, and when I shift ever so slightly—just to put some distance between Parker’s dick and where I’d very much like him to put it—he pulls me closer.I’m stuck unless I wake him up and ask him to let me go, which I really, really don’t want to do.Even though I’m a little sweaty from sleep, and my teeth feel uncomfortably fuzzy since I didn’t brush them last night, there’s a very real part of me that would never leave this bed again if it meant he would keep holding me like this.
I know that’s not possible.Parker will wake up, probably soon, and I’ll be forced to get up because he has class today, and I need to do things like eat and shower.But now that I know how this feels, I don’t know how I’m going to go back to not having it.There’s no way I can float the idea of quite literally sleeping with each other.Cuddling is one thing, but sleeping together?On purpose?Regularly?Not once and by accident like we clearly did last night?Only a historian would look at that behavior and call it totally platonic.
I feel Parker stir behind me and hold my breath, hoping if I stay still, he’ll fall back asleep so I can have a few more minutes before reality comes crashing down on me like a cold bucket of water.But he lets out a sleepy little hum before nuzzling his face into the back of my neck.
My cock twitches as his hot breath ghosts across my skin, and it takes everything in me to suppress a full-body shudder.Okay, maybe a healthy dose of reality wouldn’t be the worst thing.Or a literal bucket of cold water.
“You awake?”he mumbles.
His lips brush against my skin as he talks, and all I can do is hum in response because I don’t trust my voice not to betray how affected I am.I expect him to roll away now that he’s awake, but he stays close, a warm and grounding presence at my back.Has he not noticed that he’s hard and that it’s pressing into my ass?Or has he, and he’s okay with it?I thought I remembered him saying he’s straight, but am I wrong?
“How are you feeling?”His voice is low, still thick with sleep, but it snaps me out of my racing thoughts all the same.
“I don’t know,” I say because it’s the closest thing to the truth.I’m cycling through so many conflicting emotions, I can’t name them all.So I add, “I think a little overwhelmed.”
He hums in acknowledgement.“Did you at least sleep alright?”
“Yeah, I did, surprisingly.”
“Me too,” he murmurs.
“Do you remember falling asleep last night?”I ask.
“No, we must have fallen asleep around the same time.”He’s silent for a minute, then lets out another sleepy hum.“What time is it?”
I lift my head to look for my watch on the nightstand.“Almost 8.”
He sighs heavily, then rolls away.It’s for the best, but I feel the loss.My instinct is to turn over and snuggle back into him, but I know he has to get up and get ready for class.Putting some distance between us is probably a good idea, at least until my body calms down.I stretch a little, then turn over to look at Parker.
Over the past couple of weeks—since I realized my attraction to him—I’ve found him the cutest first thing in the morning, when he’s all soft and sleepy.But God, seeing it inmy bedis almost enough to make me melt into a puddle.He’s lying on his back, his curls haphazardly spread on my pillow.In the morning light, I can see a few golden strands among the copper.He’s not wearing his glasses—he must have taken them off in his sleep—so there’s nothing blocking my view of the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose.
Then he smiles at me—that soft, completely unguarded smile—and… God.He’s not just cute.He’s beautiful.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I think it’s safe to say this is more than a crush.These are full-blown feelings.I’ve probably had these feelings for a while, but historically, I haven’t been great at figuring out how I feel about something until that feeling is so obvious that, if it were a physical thing, it would have literally hit me over the head.So why would it be any different when those feelings are about a person?
I sit up with a start and look anywhere but at him.
What am I going to do?
I don’t know how to have genuine feelings for someone.The last time I remember having anything more than a fleeting crush on someone was on a guy in Amy and my master’s program.But we graduated, and he moved back to Michigan before I worked up even a little confidence to do anything about it.
“Where are you going?”Parker asks.
I turn my attention back to him for a moment and find him still lounging, both arms behind his head.His shirt rides up a little, but I force myself to keep looking at his face instead of at the sliver of skin peeking out between the hem of his shirt and his joggers.
