Page 103 of About to Fall

And then I looked at Nicky. Standing in his kitchen with red eyes and shaking hands, asking me to try something neither of us knew how to do. Not because it was easy but because he thought I was worth the effort.

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s a yes.”

The relief on his face eased the horror of eventually discussing my feelings with a licensed professional.

“Good.” He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. “Now feed me. I’m emotionally compromised and I need carbs.”

“That’s my line.”

“I’m stealing it. It’s a good line.”

We ate on his couch with our legs tangled together, talking about nothing important. The last episode of Avatar he’d watched. Whether my hair was due for a colour change. A new healthy recipe he wanted to test on me, something with cottage cheese which I was already dreading.

Nicky ate his green curry methodically—brown rice on the side, vegetables separated, protein portioned with the precision of someone who’d been tracking macros since adolescence. I shovelled pad see ew directly from the container at a pace that could only be described as feral.

“You’re going to choke,” he said.

“Worth it.” A piece of chicken fell on my shirt. I picked it off and ate it.

Nicky closed his eyes like he was in physical pain. “You are an elite athlete.”

“Fuelled by passion and pad see ew.”

He shook his head but he was smiling—that soft, private one I’d started thinking of as mine.

When the food was gone, he leaned into me and I pulled him close. His fingers traced idle patterns on my chest.

“I really did miss you,” he murmured.

“I always knew you couldn’t get enough of the Adrian Zhao experience.”

“Shut up.” But he was smiling against my collarbone.

I tilted his chin up and kissed him. Slow at first but two days had felt like a lifetime and I was greedy for his body as much as his heart. His mouth opened under mine and his fingers curled into my shirt and when I pulled him into my lap he went easily, knees bracketing my hips, hands sliding up to tangle in my hair.

“Adrian,” he breathed, rolling his hips against mine in a way that short circuited most of my higher brain function.

“Mm.”

“Take me to bed.”

I stood up with him wrapped around me—his legs locked behind my back, his mouth on my neck, his laugh vibrating against my skin when I nearly walked us into the doorframe.

“Smooth,” he said.

“I meant to do that.”

“Sure you did.”

I dropped him onto the bed and he pulled me down on top of him, still laughing, and the sound of it—open, easy, happy—was worth every miserable second of the last two days.

The laughing quieted when I pinned his wrists above his head and kissed down his throat. It stopped entirely when I got his shirt off and my mouth found the spot below his hip bone that made him arch off the mattress.

“Adrian—please—”

“Please what?”

“You know what.” His voice was wrecked and I'd barely started.