“Then I’m staying until Saturday night.”
“No. You can’t.” I head back to the couch because I’m feeling dizzy again, but he follows me just like a cat.
“I’m not leaving you alone when you’re sick. It’s not cool.”
“Storm, I’m not a baby. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” I lie on the couch and pull my blanket up over me.
“Then it’s time you give someone else a turn. Look, next month I go on tour and it’s going to be fucking chaotic. I like hanging out with you. We can watch movies and eat ice cream. We’ll take naps like we did in the truck.”
I swear, I think he wants to be back trapped in his truck. Maybe in a way, I do, too. As much as we annoyed each other, I liked our little bubble of us.
“Come on...” he begs, giving me his sad puppy eyes.
I really don’t want him to go. Partly because I hate being alone when I don’t feel well, and partly because I kind of like having him around, and I’m not really ready to never see him again or give up whatever it is we are.
I finally give in. “All right, but I have some rules. No more touching or inappropriate behavior. Okay? I have a boyfriend and you need to respect that. I’m not a slut, and I don’t like you trying to turn me into one.”
He looks visibly insulted. “Evelyn, I would never, ever, want you to be a slut. Unless you’re my slut.” He quirks his eyebrow up.
“Good. I’m going to ignore that last part. And no more picking locks. That is seriously creepy, not to mention illegal.”
“I was worried about you.”
“Whatever. No more of that. You can’t just do whatever you want. There are certain boundaries, okay? I would like us to be friends. Real friends. I will not be some toy for you when you’re bored, though. So if that’s your plan, you can just leave.”
“I don’t get bored.” He deadpans. “And I have enough toys.”
“Good, then we shouldn’t have any issues.”
He lifts my feet off the couch, sits where they were, and then puts my feet on top of his legs.
“You can sit over there in the chair, ya know. Or on the loveseat.” I motion over to the other furniture in the room that is currently unoccupied by a sniveling person.
“I’m fine here.”
Unwrapping a cough drop, I shrug at him and pop it into my mouth.
“Why don’t you want me?” he blurts out, as if he can’t even fathom it. I laugh at the sheer audacity of his question, but he doesn’t laugh or smile at all. He waits for me to stop giggling much like a parent waits for a child to stop acting like an idiot so they can continue being serious.