Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119680 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
She smiles. “I can always eat ice cream.”
“I know. That’s why I picked it. Please, Snowflake. I know there isn’t an instant fix, but I want to show you that whatever we’re not calling this, I’m in. All the way.”
Winter makes a face. “I’m trying really hard not to make a sex joke.”
I laugh, and she lets me pull her to her feet.
I keep hold of her hand. “Can I hug you? A little affection without intention?”
She smiles. “Yeah. You can hug me.”
I wrap my arms around her. “I hated this afternoon. I hated knowing I made you feel shitty.”
“I know. That’s what made it easier to have the hard conversation.”
I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re an incredible person, Winter.”
“So are you.” She steps back. “Come on. Let’s go get ice cream, and when we get back you can kiss me good night, and I can be annoyed that I’m sending you home to your own bed and sleeping alone in mine.”
I nod and feel the tightness in my chest release a little. The problem isn’t solved, but we’re on the same page. Label or not, we’re in this together.
29 THE UP BEFORE THE DOWN
Winter
I make it until Thursday before I fold and BJ sleeps over. It’s pointless to punish ourselves for things outside of his control. And honestly, I’m-sorry-for-being-a-playboy sex with BJ ranks as some of the best sex of my life. He pulled out the silk tie again, but this time I used it on him, which was way more fun than I expected. And empowering. I followed it with a beard ride. And then we had marathon sex that lasted until two in the morning.
I was spacey in my Friday morning class, and I ended up napping in the library between afternoon classes, which saved me from being a total mess during hockey practice. But it was totally worth it.
And if I’d realized how intense a full course load and daily hockey practice would be, I might not have taken that four-day sex hiatus. After the first week, spending time with BJ that doesn’t involve sleeping has become increasingly difficult.
It’s a Wednesday a few weeks into the semester, and I’m meeting BJ for lunch in the quad, but I’ve texted him three times with no reply. There’s a decent chance he’s fallen asleep somewhere.
In the summer, I often found him napping on the bench outside the arena, but here in Chicago, I’ve learned that BJ can truly sleep anywhere. And for reasons I’m unsure of, one of his favorite napping locations is the lounger in our living room. River says he’s been doing it for as long as he can remember.
I pocket my phone and head to the quad. It’s a beautiful afternoon, the sun is shining, and we’re having an amazing September hot spell. It should break in a few days, but everyone is wearing shorts and tank tops, soaking up the sun, and drinking iced coffees.
I find BJ passed out under a tree, using his backpack as a pillow. Instead of waking him, I set a timer for twenty minutes, place my backpack next to his, and stretch out beside him.
When our fingers brush, he slides his arm under me and pulls me closer.
“We’re not in your bedroom, in case you forgot your comforter isn’t made of grass.”
“So don’t try to get you naked?” His eyes aren’t even open.
“Not unless you’d like to become a viral video that might make getting a job in the future a serious challenge.”
“Seems like something to avoid,” he mumbles.
“I set a timer for twenty minutes. Stop sleep-talking and just sleep. I need the nap as much as you do.”
“Nothing says romance like a lunchtime snooze.” His breathing evens out a few seconds later. It blows my mind how quickly he can fall asleep. Sitting up, lying down, in a chair, in a bed, on a bench. In the middle of the quad. It’s an art.
I close my eyes, not expecting to nap, but twenty minutes later, my alarm rouses both of us.
Lovey, Lacey, and Rose are now sitting cross-legged a few feet away, their lunches spread out between them. We have lunch-making parties every evening. We’ll buy a huge baguette from the local grocery store and make one giant sandwich that we split between us. I’ve learned how to make some cool vegan sandwiches since Lovey doesn’t eat anything that comes from an animal or has a face, and Lacey is a pescatarian.
I sit up. “How long have the three of you been sitting here?”
BJ hasn’t moved yet.
“Long enough to take a bunch of pictures of you two cuddled together,” Rose says.
“I wish I could fall asleep anywhere.” Lacey pops a grape into her mouth.
“Same. I’m the worst napper in the history of the world,” Lovey agrees.