“Can you fix watches, too?”
He holds up the old, silver watch at the edge of the bench.
“That was my grandfather’s watch, long ago. He died a while back, but he left me that. I fixed it up.”
“It’s beautiful,” Wes says. “Classic. Fuck, you’re good at everything.”
“Promise there are things I’m bad at, too.”
“I haven’t seen any. Like what?”
I pause for a moment, watching his lightly freckled cheeks in the low light from my nightstand. “Like being gracious when people offer me help, for one.”
I watch his lashes as he looks down at the ground for a moment, waving his hand. “It’s fine, Sev. I know you were just surprised when we showed up out of nowhere.”
“And I know I was a dick. I’m sorry, okay?”
A tiny smile appears on his face as he looks back up at me. “That’s good. I’m going to remember this moment.”
“What?”
“Sevan Berlantapologizingto me. That’s fuckin’ sweeter than honey, bro.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” I protest, walking off toward the door.
“Delicious, delectable honey that I’ll remember when you’re being an ass to me in Sellwood’s class or something.”
I bite back a smile. “You’re impossible. Go to sleep, Wes. You’ve been enough of a hero tonight.”
“You sure you and Niko are good on the couch? If it’s uncomfy you can let me know.”
“Just take the bed, Knox. Good night.”
I close the door and head out to the couch, where Niko’s already almost passed out on the other end. Mom already laid out fresh pillows and blankets out here for us, and I feel like I’m doing something I never really did as a kid: having a sleepover.
For fuck’s sake.
Wes comes over and suddenly everything’s so goddamn wholesome.
I tuck in under the covers and Niko’s gentle snoring already starts to fill the air.
My mind races with everything, and I know I’m not going to sleep for a while. Everything feels different, even if part of it weirdly feels good.
Another hour passes before I even start to feel sleepy, and another half an hour after that, I start to thinkmaybeI’ll be able to sleep.
And then I hear a door gently opening down the hall.
And the creak of the floorboards as someone walks down the hall toward the kitchen, and Iknowit’s not Mom, because she sucks at being quiet in the middle of the night.
It’s like a release valve suddenly depressurizes inside me as I realize I’m not the only one still awake. I toss away my blanket and step quietly across the living room.
In the kitchen, I find Wes in front of the fridge, lit by the light coming out of it.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Did I wake you up? I just want to find the water filter.”
He’s shirtless. Apparently he always sleeps shirtless, and that’s a big fucking problem right now, because he looks so good and I’m far too exhausted to be able to resist how much I want to touch his skin.
I keep my voice quiet, too. “You didn’t wake me.”