“Can I ask you something?” We’re hanging out at his place, and I’ve got a weird sense of deja-vu, and like I’ve slipped into another dimension the way everything is flipped compared to my home.
It feels loaded, the question, because it’s usually followed by another loaded question. I can already feel how Michael tenses, turning to look at me, his face open and calm, if a little curious.
“Sure,” Michael says, shrugging.
I lick my lips, settling deeper into his couch, where we’re currently not watching Disturbia. Michael’s sitting beside me, sure, but he does this thing that he always seems to do where he turns his entire big body towards me, giving me all of his attention.
He has his elbow planted on the back of the couch, head on his fist, and it makes his giant bicep stand out and I
