“Interloper.” He seems to taste the word on his tongue. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I was invited in after all.”
“By Emmanuel. Not by me.” I point out stubbornly.
“So, do you want me to leave?” His voice drops even lower. “Should I leave?”
Yes,my self-preservation screams. “No. Emmanuel wants you here.”
Yes, please leave before I do something stupid like lean in to kiss you.
“Stay,” I say instead.
“Because Emmanuel is the only one who wants me to stay?”
I don’t answer that. Can’t answer that. Not when he’s looking at me like that, not when we’re so close, pressed together in this small space. Not while I can feel the warmth of him all along my side.
After a moment, he chuckles quietly and turns his attention back to the movie, but he doesn’t move away. If anything, he seems to settle in more comfortably, his arm now fully against mine.
We watch in silence for a long while. On screen, Garrett and Kayley are finally beginning to work together, their initial antagonism giving way to reluctant cooperation. Emmanuel is completely absorbed, occasionally signing commentary about the events as they unfold.
I try to focus on the movie. Really, I do. But I’m acutely aware of every point of contact between us. The press of his shoulder against mine, the way his thigh lies against mine. The way his breathing has synced with mine. The heat that seems to radiate from him even through our clothes.
“You know,” he murmurs after a particularly exciting scene, “I haven’t watched this movie in months. Emmanuel used to watch it every day.”
“He’s been signing more, opening up. Especially to you.” His voice is rough with emotion as he speaks in a quiet tone.
“A little. He trusts me, I think.”
Basili is still beside me.
“He isn’t the only one,” he says quietly.
I turn to look at him, surprised by the admission. His eyes are still on the screen, but there’s something soft in his expression.
“Basili —”
“You’re good with him. Better than I could have hoped.” He finally looks at me, and the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch. “Thank you. For this. For making him feel safe enough to open up.”
“I’m not doing anything special. Just spending time with him.”
“You build him a fort. You’re watching his favorite movie. You’re the only one who can speak to him fluently in ASL. That’s not nothing, Chloe.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest constrict. Here we are again, back in dangerous territory.
I try to shrug it off. “Anyone would do the same.”
“No. They wouldn’t.” His hand finds mine, fingers tangling in a gesture that feels completely natural. “Most people would have left him to the care of his family and hoped that he got the help he needed making the adjustment. You created a space for him to heal in, at his own pace.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Swallowing hard. I don’t know how to respond to his fingers wrapped around mine. The way he’s looking at me. So, I don’t say anything at all. I just let our hands stay linked, hidden beneath the blanket, and try to focus on the movie.
Focusing becomes increasingly difficult as the minutes tick by. Basili doesn’t let my hand go, his thumb occasionally brushing across my knuckles. The contact is both soothing and electric.
I’m hyperaware of every small movement he makes. The way he shifts slightly to get closer. The quiet sound of his breathing. The occasional rumble of laughter when something amusing happens on the screen.
And slowly, as the movie continues and the fort stays cozy and warm, I feel my body start to relax despite my best efforts. My shoulders drop, my breath evens out, and at some point, my head droops to rest against his shoulder.
I should move. Should sit up and put distance between us. But I’m tired, and he’s so warm and comforting, I just can’t bring myself to do it.
The past few days have been emotionally exhausting, and the solid strength of his shoulder beneath my cheek, the gentle rhythm of his breathing, is putting me to sleep.
