always wore a pair of Converse high-tops from her extensive collection. No, wait. She had worn flip-flops on his boat and sandals in Bayshore. Had her toenails been painted those days? He had no idea, which suddenly seemed like a massive lost opportunity.
Her feet were pretty. He almost laughed at himself. He was certain that feet and pretty were not words he had ever used in the same sentence before. But she did have pretty feet.
Something was happening in his chest. A seizing of sorts, like all the muscles in there had gone on high alert. It reminded him of the way he’d felt when Karl had announced the grant. It was a surge of want. A feeling of I must have this.
“Not that I’m staying over,” she said quickly, and it took him a minute to catch up to the fact that she was still talking about pajamas. She said it like she was trying to reassure him, like she was afraid of coming across as too presumptuous. He wanted to say, Stay.
He knew she wouldn’t, though. Whatever they were doing, in her mind, it didn’t involve staying over. That was why he’d forced himself out of her bed so quickly last night, after the deed had been done.
“Just that when I sneak back to the Mermaid, if I’m caught by Eve and Sawyer, it’s not completely obvious that I haven’t been home all night,” she went on. “This is really more like loungewear.”
All right, so she wouldn’t stay over. But maybe he could get her to put her legs on his lap while they watched soccer, because to his surprise, he also wanted that. He wanted her to lounge on him, like that was a thing they did. He inched closer to the sofa, trying to figure out how to sit down in a way that wouldn’t disturb her. If he slipped in at the end, she’d only have to retract her legs a little to make room. And then he could sort of absently grab them, and—
She sat up.
Dammit.
He sat down, and she scrambled farther away, keeping the same distance between them they usually did. Or they used to do.
This was all very confusing.
“What are you watching?” he asked.
“League highlights reel for the week. I think I’m too tired for a full match.”
“Long day?”
“I always get really tired on the Sunday night after a run of shows. I think it’s all the adrenaline. When it’s over, my body knows it can crash.” She yawned, and pointed to her mouth as if to say, See?
He yawned, too.
“It’s contagious, sorry.” She laughed. “Anyway, I thought a full match might put me to sleep, and…” She wagged her eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. “Let’s just say the primary purpose of this evening’s visit isn’t football.”
“You don’t say?” He wagged back.
“Yeah.” She turned back to the TV. “I think this only has ten more minutes.”
“You want anything to drink? Did you find the wine?”
“I’m gonna pass, thanks. That’s also likely to put me to sleep at this point.”
He wanted to tell her to lie back down and sleep. That it was okay to do that here. He would even stop fixating on the idea of her legs on his lap and give her the whole couch. But of course he could say none of those things, so he just sat next to her, hyperaware of the space between them, and watched soccer highlights.
As before, he could tell when she fell asleep by the way her breathing changed. And when she started to list to the side, he was there to catch her.
He moved closer and put his arm around her, encouraging her to lean into him.
She started to mumble and pull away.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “Sleep.” But then, figuring that was likely to wake her up and send her packing, he clarified. “Nap.” That had worked last time she was here.
It worked again. She sighed and snuggled against him, and that feeling of rightness came over him. It was like a drug, this feeling he sometimes got around her, calming and invigorating at the same time.
Bang, bang, bang.
Law woke up with a start. Someone was at the door. Shit.
Maya stirred in his arms. “What time is it?”
Bang, bang, bang.
They were tangled together on the sofa. He had woken up at some point after they’d initially fallen asleep and scooched them down so they were lying flat and covered them with a blanket he had on the back of the sofa. He