15
Ryan had told himself a hundred times that what happened over the weekend was supposed to stay there, but the moment he’d seen Oscar wandering into the kitchen this morning, groping for the coffee pot and downing half a cup in one long draught, he’d known that was going to be alotharder than he thought.
Hell, he’d known before that, when he’d had trouble falling asleep last night. Because after one night with a warm body next to him, his brain had decided that he needed that to be comfortable now.
He’d ended up hugging a pillow and feeling like the world’s most pathetic idiot.
Now, Spot had come into the living room—Ryan’s makeshift office, since the office was his bedroom now—climbed up on the couch, and let her head fall in Ryan’s lap like she owned the place. Which, Ryan supposed, she kind ofdid. No one was going to argue with a tiger.
He got the impression she could tell he wasn’t in a great mood. This felt like it was supposed to be comforting, even if she was in the way and making it pretty much impossible for Ryan to keep working. Like all other cats, probably. He’d never had one before, but he’d heard stories.
After a moment’s hesitation, he reached out to scratch behind her ears. He’d seen Oscar and Finn both doing that, and she seemed to like it.
If the soft huff she let out was any indication, she liked it when Ryan did it, too. Learning that tigers didn’t purr had been a disappointment, but she was still warm and soothing.
Strange how quickly things had changed. This was only the beginning of his third week here, and he’d gone from freaking out over there being a tiger on the front porch to sitting quietly with it. Petting it, even, and enjoying its company.
“What do you think?” he asked softly, smoothing down the fur on the top of Spot’s head. “Should I go talk to him?”
Spot glanced up at him, but gave no other response. Which was approximately what Ryan expected, since it wasn’t like she could talk or anything. That might have been handy right now, although if shecouldtalk, she could also tell Oscar what he’d said.
“I guess you don’t know any better than me, anyway,” Ryan said. “I’m not supposed to be here forever, you know.”
Spot huffed, probably because Ryan had stopped petting her. He started up again, figuring that at least one of them might as well have been happy.
Tigers probably didn’t have deep existential dilemmas about their love lives. If she’d understood a word of what Ryan was saying, she would have thought he was an idiot.
Maybe he was.
Maybe he should have been grateful for what Oscar had given him and happy to just… take that self-knowledge forward, whatever happened next. He liked boys. That much, he was completely sure of now.
It was useful to know. He might not ever pursue it, but it was a question that had been haunting him for a while. Now, he had an answer. Oscar was responsible for that, and he’d been kind and patient, and Ryan owed him one.
But…
Well, he wasn’t sure what thebutwas. Just that he wanted to talk to Oscar about this.
Oscarhadpromised he’d be there to talk when Ryan was ready. Maybe the smart thing to do was take him up on that.
Just as he was done forming that thought, the sound of footsteps made him look up. Oscar rounded the corner into the living room, his eyes falling on Spot immediately.
“Ryan doesn't have any treats for you,” Oscar said, sighing heavily. “And he’s trying to work.”
“She’s fine,” Ryan responded. He really didn't mind Spot sitting with him, honestly. It was nice to feel accepted.
“You sure? Because I know how heavy she can be when she wants to.” Oscar looked between Spot and Ryan, obviously still thinking about moving her.
“And you know how terrified I am of… everything,” Ryan said. “But really, it's okay.”
“What if I wanna sit next to you instead?” Oscar asked, and itsoundedlike a joke, but Ryan got the feeling it wasn't. At least, not entirely.
“Move her,” Ryan said decisively. He liked Spot, but he wanted to talk to Oscar. “I was actually hoping you might be free to talk some time.”
Oscar glanced at Spot again, who’d snuggled into Ryan’s side even more than before. Instead of moving her, he pulled the coffee table forward, perching on the edge of it to sit in front of Ryan.
“I can't bring myself to disturb her when she looks so happy, if she’s really not bothering you,” he explained. “That tiger owns me.”
Ryan chuckled, glad of the distraction from the tangle of nervousness that was welling up in his gut. He did want to talk to Oscar, but now that the moment was here…
