Page 16 of Hushed

And it’s all over now. I look longingly at his chest, because the blanket’s shifted, and feel guilty about it. A part of me wants to rest my head above his heart and catch another few minutes of sleep. Another part of me is relieved. When he was awake, I wouldn’t dare stare at him, and now that he can’t see me, I’m hungry just to look at him.

I pull away from him and sit on the edge of the bed. He frowns a bit in his sleep, and I see his hands knead the empty, still-warm sheets, like he wants me to be there.

“Good morning, baby boy,” he says in his sleep-roughened voice. The sheets rustle as he shifts, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight.

“Did I wake you up?”

“I’m used to being up early,” he says without opening his eyes.

I don’t know what the exact etiquette for this is. I counted on Levi waking up at some stupidly early hour, sliding out of bed, and starting to put on his shoes while I pretended I was still sleeping. This is not living up to that expectation.

And he came awake like a light going on. No fumbling. No five minutes of being totally useless first. One second asleep, the next second talking. Youth has its advantages.

“Would you like some breakfast? I can order up some room service.” The clock on the nightstand says 7:28.

“Not yet.” He opens his eyes and focuses on me. “How are you feeling?”

I’m surprised by this morning-after affection, but I’ll take it. “A little sore,” I admit. “But in a good way.”

He smiles contentedly. “I aim to please,” he murmurs.

I smile at him and curl onto the bed again. “Frankly, I set the bar way too low. You have wrecked me, man. I am going to be the most demanding power bottom ever, and when people ask Who did this to you? I’m gonna think of you.”

“Yes!” he says, pumping his fist. “Well, there’s a solution to that problem. I am down for a repeat or a threepeat. I think you’ve spoiled me for first dates, and first times, and first kisses, so, fuck you—I get to live rent-free in your head for every awkward first date you’ll ever have for the rest of your life. We’re even. I’m fucking delighted.”

“It was not a date.”

“Agree to disagree.” He says it lightly enough. His thumb is going back and forth on the edge of the sheet, though, and it doesn’t stop.

“No, because then you’d be wrong.”

He reaches over the bed and pulls me up against him. “Of course, baby boy.” He kisses me on top of my head. “What are your plans for the day?” he asks.

“I was only up here for a meeting, and I’ve got nothing until Monday, so I’m free.” I was going to drive back to my townhouse and unpack. But should I even unpack? Does it even make sense to?

“Good,” he says. “Because I have an idea. But I really want to spring it on you face to face. Can we do that?”

“Sure.” I sit up and he spreads his legs so that I can sit in front of him, an act that takes a little acrobatics. It’s like the last time I tried to take a bath with a man: legs tangled in all the wrong directions, one on top of the other. He places his hands on my lower back so I don’t teeter backward, and I scoot forward. His fingertips are warm but I shiver from the electric connection. Outside the window, I can hear the distant hum of morning traffic starting to build.

“Happy now, you cocky little shit?” I ask to break the tension.

He grins at me. “Very. Since you don’t have any plans, I was thinking that maybe we could hang out together.”

Of all the things that I was expecting, this wasn’t it, and yet, I’m not sure why. “With me? Doing what? I mean, aside from the obvious canoodling.”

“Wait. Hold up. Canoodling? Did you just use that as slang for sex? I just don’t think I’ve heard that word in the wild except maybe in nursing homes.”

I stare at him in dismay. “Exactly how old are you, Levi?”

“Twenty-two.”

“No. Wait. Oh, my God, I feel like a creepy old man right now.”

“Oh, please. You’re what, twenty-seven?”

“Thirty-one.”

“Oh, shit, you’re ancient,” Levi deadpans. “You should have told me. Do we need a walker? That left hip’s only got minutes left in it before bad things happen.”