“Hey again,” I greet.
Austin pushes the button for the elevator. He doesn’t greet Andrew, just gives him a chin lift.
“How was the pizza?” Andrew calls out.
“It was great. Definitely New York style,” I add, but my voice sounds shaky.
“Sad,” Andrew says, shaking his head, totally ignoring Austin’s mood.
I force a smile. “Have a good night,” I say as the ding signals the elevator’s arrival.
***
“Thanks for dinner,” I say when we get to the apartment.
“Sorry it got fucked up,” he says as he shuts the door and locks it behind me.
I take my jacket off and put it on the coat rack. He sets the pizza on the kitchen island and then takes his coat off.
I’m feeling a little lost here, not knowing if our evening is over, if he wants to talk about it – if I should even ask questions.
I hover by the island while he hangs his coat up. I watch him flop onto the couch, running his fingers through his hair with frustration.
“Um, Austin?” I say finally.
He looks at me, but his nostrils are flaring.
“Do you want um… anything to drink?”
“No.”
“Oh. Okay, I’ll just…” I signal toward my room.
“Told you my life is really complicated right now,” he says. “The last thing I should be doing is fooling around with you. But it’s the only thing right now in my life that doesn’t suck.”
I take that in and try to process it.
He’s still looking at me, so I’ve got to say something.
“I don’t know if you want to talk about it or not so I’m not sure if I should ask questions or leave you alone, or… if she hadn’t come over if you’d have talked about the thing she mentioned, or…” I let that hang.
He stares at me for a long minute. A very long one.
“You wanna watch TV with me?” he finally asks.
That’s a surprise.
“All right.”
He looks relieved.
“Just gonna change,” he says and heads down the hall.
I don’t know if I should do this or not, but the fact that he looks so relieved hits me square in the feels.
He comes back in Adidas sweatpants and a black muscle shirt. Bare feet.
I sit beside him and he puts his arm around me, kissing my temple and then he squeezes me tighter.
I sit there stiffly for a second, until he tips my chin to get me to look at him. The intensity in his gaze is so disarming. His head tilts and his lips come to mine. Softly.
“Are you in a relationship with Aiden’s ex?” I ask, the second his lips move away.
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Is she pregnant with your child?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he answers, and his eyes are so filled with pain that it startles me.
I put my hand to his jaw. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He shakes his head. “No. I wanna just watch TV and snuggle with you. Is that all right?”
I can’t say no, not with that look in his eyes. So I don’t.
I snuggle in. “I happen to be an excellent snuggler.”
“Yes you are. Capuchin monkeys tend to have that quality.”
“What are we watching?”
His body relaxes and it relaxes so much that I push all my million questions out of my head. Or I try to.
A few minutes later, he pulls me on top of him and I’m thinking it’s about to get physical, sexual, but it doesn’t.
I put my cheek to his chest on the couch while we watch a couple episodes of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Just into the third episode, I have to go to the bathroom, so I climb off of him and when I’m back, I see he’s dosing, so I put the pizza box into the fridge and I’m about to turn the TV off and go to bed, but as I lean over to grab the remote from the coffee table, he grabs my wrist.
“What’re ya doin?”
“I was gonna turn it off since you’re sleeping.”
“You done watching or you wanna watch some more?” he asks.
“I could watch some more.”
“Then come here,” he tugs and I’m back on top of him, both his arms wrapped around me.
“Who’s the Capuchin now?” I ask.
He squeezes in response.
We fall asleep like that and I don’t wake up until Saturday morning when he’s carefully trying to twirl me toward the back of the couch so he can get up.
I open my eyes as I’m put on my side, my back against the back of the sofa and he leans over and kisses my forehead before he disappears down the hall and I hear the bathroom door close.
I sit up, feeling well-rested. Strangely.
I slept on top of him all night.
He comes back a few minutes later and he’s making coffee, still in those trackpants, his hair now tamed, his face still scruffy, and I’m in last night’s clothes, which shouldn’t have been comfortable to sleep in (jeans and a button-down shirt), so I go straight to the bathroom, do what I need to do, and then I get into the shower.