“I would,” I tell him. Immediately, he shakes his head, cheek scratching across my chest.
“You might not, though, Shi. Being in a relationship doesn’t automatically guarantee consent. You might wake up and prefer I not have my hand on your dick.”
“And then I’ll tell you to stop.”
He makes a little grumbling noise, which is cute enough to have me smiling up at the ceiling. I’m feeling a little better now, having spoken the desire out loud and not been ridiculed for it. Not that Ewan has a history of mocking me, but there is a first time for everything, and I imagine a discussion about bedroom kinks makes such a thing more likely.
“I’m not opposed to trying this,” he says quietly, lips moving against my skin. Every inch of my body tightens as though a strum of electricity just went through me. I hadn’t let myself hope.
“Only if you want to. It’s really not a big deal, Ewan. It’s just a fantasy.”
“It’s a big deal if it’s something you want and didn’t think you could have. I just want to make sure I’m not…molesting you, that’s all. It makes me a little nervous that you’d be unconscious.”
“Not for long,” I mumble, half in the conversation and half lost in the slow heat burning in my stomach. My body would like to go ahead and get this party started, while my brain is aware that this is a serious conversation that needs to happen prior to anything else. If I were smart, I’d slide Ewan away from me. The proximity of his naked body this close to mine isn’t helping my brain cells to function.
“You’d wake up, right?” he clarifies, sounding nervous enough for me to feel bad. “You’re not so heavy of a sleeper you wouldn’t stay asleep the whole time, right?”
“Right. I think…I think I’d wake up and just not let you know I was awake.”
He blows out a breath, the air scooting across my chestand tickling my nipple.Not now, I think, when my blood starts rerouting southward.
“Okay. Okay,” he repeats. “I think I could do that, then. As long as we communicate and you tell me the moment I do something you don’t like.”
“I will,” I agree, while privately feeling certain there’s nothing I wouldn’t like. Ewan tips his face up to kiss the underside of my chin.
I feel a little lightheaded as the last of my nerves dissipate. It’s funny how often I felt uneasy and unsure around Roy—a bumbling idiot compared to his sleek self-assurance. Ewan doesn’t ever make me feel that way, and even now, after I’ve just said something I’ve been a little ashamed of my entire life, he’s not making a fuss of it. He’s not doing anything but being accepting and even considering it, which is far, far more than I could have hoped. I really shouldn’t even be surprised. As different as Ewan is now from the boy I grew up with, the core of him is still the same; the foundation of our relationship is still the same. In all the ways that matter—kindness and love and acceptance—he’s unchanged.
“Now I’m horny,” he tells me, somewhat ruining the sweet moment. I laugh silently, my chest rising and falling under Ewan’s cheek. He snorts and rubs his hand down to my belly.
Rolling over, I push him onto his back and plant my hands on the mattress above his shoulders. He grins up at me, dark hair fanned out on the pillow and eyes bright. He arches up to me when I lower down to kiss him, determined to help him out with that particular problem.
Ewan’s side of the bed is cold when I wake up, which signifies a bad night of rest. If he sleeps well, that usually means he’ll be sleeping late, not up before me at three. Yawning, I tap the screen on my phone and turn off the alarm before it can go off. We aren’t hauling today, and usually, I’d try to go back to sleep, try and rest until at least five before starting the day. And because I’m usually alone on my days off, they’re rarely more exciting than catching up on chores.
But Ewan was here when I went to sleep, and I can feel him in the house, even if he’s absent from the bed. It’s possible he’ll want to work all day, holed up in the spare bedroom, but it’s also possible that he might be interested in going out. My need to be around him constantly keeps getting worse and worse, an irritating itch in my brain telling me if I look away for a second, he’ll be gone. There is a very real hourglass taking up space in this relationship, sand dropping faster than I’m comfortable with. How long do I have before it’s empty and Ewan’s back on an airplane?
Sighing, I toss the covers back and sit up, scrubbing a hand over my face. Well, since I’ve got the time, maybe I should finally trim the beard that’s gotten unruly enough to bother even me. With Ewan living with me in everything but name, I’ve taken to turning the heat up for him so the walk to the bathroom and subsequent personal grooming is comfortable, even without getting dressed. When I hop in the shower, I wonder if it’ll call him in from wherever he’s at, but I end up showering alone. After, I walk quietly down the hall, softly tapping my knuckleson the door of the spare room. There’s no answer, and I don’t hear any movement to indicate he’s in there.
The search for Ewan ends the moment I’m halfway down the stairs and have a view of the living room. He’s sitting on the couch, head tipped backward and finger looped through the handle of a mug balanced precariously on his thigh. He’s still and silent but for the soft sounds of breathing coming from his open mouth. A surge of fondness rolls through me like a wave, expanding my heart and lungs until I swear I can feel my ribs cracking. He must have come down for a cup of tea in the night and fallen asleep.
Stepping even more quietly now, I approach and very, very carefully pull the mug away and set it on the coffee table. It’s a miracle he’s managed not to spill it, with the way he usually flops around like a fish on land. He has such trouble falling asleep, and it never seems particularly restful to me, even once he’s there. Tea safe on the coffee table, I look down at my sleeping lover. His neck is stretched so far his Adam’s apple is protruding, and my own neck hurts just looking at him. Deciding the best course of action is to just resettle him down here instead of waking him up, I place a throw pillow near the armrest.
Gently sliding my hand under his neck, I support his head and slowly bring him down until he’s horizontal. He murmurs a little bit, nonsense noises and a mindless gesture with his arms, but doesn’t wake. I pull his knees up as well, smiling when he tucks immediately into a ball, fingers reaching for the pillow I laid his head on. Covering him with the blanket draped over the back of the couch, I take a moment to just look at him without theworry about being caught staring. He really is beautiful. Perhaps not by movie-star standards, but lovely in the contrast between his hair and skin, the hollows under high cheekbones, and the full upper lip. I push his hair back gently, heart pounding loudly enough I’m surprised he can’t hear it when he smiles in his sleep. There is no possible way I’ll be able to live without this now that I know how things could be.
Taking his mug of cold tea to the kitchen, I leave the lights off and operate on the moonlight coming through the windows as I prepare my own cup. The electric kettle is quiet enough that I can run it without waking him. Tea made, I slip out the back door after another slightly wistful glance in Ewan’s direction. I wish the couch were big enough to lie down next to him, to slip in behind and curve against his back, listen to him breathe and be the thing that keeps him warm.
Outside, I sit in my chair and kick my legs out. The mug of boiling hot tea cupped between my palms does more to keep me comfortable than the hoodie and sweatpants I tugged on upstairs. The morning is crisp but not cold, winter finally loosening her grip enough to give way to spring. It’s one of my favorite times to live here, although truthfully, no season is bad enough for me to dislike it. I love them all. I just love Siren’s Point in general.
Settling deeper into my chair, I tip my head back to look at the stars. I think about my home for a second—all the things I love and dislike, all the things I’m comfortable with. I think about all the things I could live without if I had to, and I realize, as I do, that I’ve been looking at this wrong. I’ve been worriedabout Ewan leaving and me having to stay, but why should he be the one sacrificing his life to accommodate mine? I could fish in California…probably. I’d have to look into it, anyway. Hell, maybe I could stay here for the peak season and then shut it down fully for the low, fly to California and stay with Ewan for those months. That would leave both Oliver and Nils out of a job for half the year, though. Unless I left all the repair and maintenance work we usually do in the winter for them to complete without me.
Scuffing my socked foot against the rough of the boards, I focus on the catch of the wood against the fabric. Maybe I should speak to Bernie, who helps me with the accounting for the business. It’s possible I could give both Nils and Oliver a pay raise high enough to cover the workload that would be required in my absence for those months. It’s also possible that I can’t, so I’ll need to have a backup. The high season would be harder to manage, with so many long working days and so few off to travel back and forth between Siren’s Point and LA. There would be more days apart than ones spent together, and the distance we’d have to travel for that time wouldn’t be ideal. It would be awful, I’m sure. Never having been on an airplane, I can’t attest to that with personal experience, but if the media portrays it correctly, the seats on airplanes aren’t exactly built for comfort.
It hardly matters, though. I’d walk to LA if it meant Ewan was waiting there for me. I’ll do anything to ensure this relationship doesn’t have an ending point. And maybe, depending on how his schedule works, Ewan would consent to spending a few months of the year here with me as well. Itshouldn’t be the case, given I’ve spent almost every single night these past seven years sleeping alone, but it scares me to think about going back to that. I like the way it feels to have Ewan’s weight balancing down the other half of the mattress, knowing I could turn over and find him with nothing more than a reach through the dark. I like hearing him breathe, and yes, I like the easy access to good sex. Mostly, I just like him. Going back to not seeing him every day makes me itch with discomfort, like my skin is suddenly too small for my body.
“Shi?”
I startle at the croaky voice, not having heard Ewan slide open the door. Looking over my shoulder, I smile at his bedraggled head sticking through a crack in the doors, squinty-eyed from sleep and lips pulled down in a frown as he tries to determine why I’m out here. The sky has lightened considerably, the moon and only a handful of stars still visible in the early morning dawn. I’ve been lost in thought, apparently. It’s later than I expected.
“Morning,” I greet him, voice quiet as though to preserve the sanctity of a still morning. He pushes the back door wide, slipping through and shutting it behind him. I set my mug down on the porch. “I can come in, Ewan. You don’t have to?—”
