Page 38 of New Year

“We cn’share. The bed.”

“It’s okay, I’ll sleep on the sofa bed. I don’t want you to wake up and freak out.”

“Won’t freak. Go t’sleep. Share.” Nat flopped sideways, his upper body sprawled on one side of the bed, feet still dangling on the floor.

“Nat?”

Nat snored.

Fucking hell.

Zack stood and stared down at his passed-out roommate, annoyed at himself for not anticipating this scenario and not talking to Nat about it while they were both perfectly sober. Sure, Nat said that Zack could sleep here, it was okay, but that was Drunk Nat. Sometimes people were their most honest while drunk; sometimes people said and did things they later regretted.

Zack never used to distrust his own intuition. Not until he was so wrong about who Brett Jones was. His intuition said Nat meant what he said, that sharing a bed was okay. And he really wanted to share his bed with Nat, platonically, because Zack’s bed had been so cold for so many years.

Nat was still in his jeans, and those were never comfortable to sleep in. But Zack didn’t want to give Nat any reason to suspect he’d been misled or lied to, so Zack left those jeans on. He gently wrangled Nat’s limp, sleeping body under the covers, then went into the bathroom to take a quick shower, brush his own teeth, and then slip into sleeping clothes. He also got a glass of water for Nat’s side of the bed, because Zack often woke up insanely thirsty after drinking too much.

Not that Zack had needed to nurse a hangover for a few years, but he wanted to be proactive for Nat. Anticipate his sub’s—no, his roommate’s needs.

Zack fetched the extra blanket from the sofa—plus Nat’s phone charger, so he didn’t wake up to a dead phone—and then settled on top of the covers on the other side of the bed. As much as he longed to slide under the sheets and snuggle up close to Nat, to hold him tight while Zack fell asleep, he didn’t. Nat had given him drunken permission to share the bed, nothing else. So Zack wrapped his arms around his pillow and tried to fall asleep.

CHAPTEREIGHT

Warmth, comfort and gentleness surrounded him like a wool blanket, cozy and embracing, and Nat lost himself in it. He did his best to snuggle closer, to find the source of the warmth, while clinging to the comfort of his gentle dreams. Occasionally, he floated toward consciousness, out of the depths of drunken sleep, and he fought against waking. He wanted to sleep, to exist in a stupor for as long as possible.

But his body craved contact. It craved closeness and heat and friction, and so many other things. More than anything else, it craved safety.

Safety was snoring nearby, and Nat slid his hand outward, seeking. His fingers bumped something solid, protected by a sheet. His desire to remain in his half-asleep state warred with his desire to be comforted. To slide over to that solid, safe body and snuggle up close.

With Zack.

That snapped him into full wakefulness, and he blinked at the side of Zack’s bedroom dresser. Bedroom. Bed. Why was he in Zack’s bed? His mouth was sticky, his stomach sloshy. He’d had a lot to drink last night. It had felt amazing to feel safe enough to let go and have fun. Get wasted knowing the person he was with would take care of him.

He still clenched out of habit, and that motion clued him in to the fact that he was still fully dressed beneath the covers. Zack hadn’t even taken off his jeans before putting him to bed, which was stupidly uncomfortable now that he was aware of it. And hot. Too hot. Nat rolled onto his back and shoved the covers down to his waist. Or tried to, but the covers were catching near his elbow.

The snoring stopped. Nat turned his head to the side. Zack was smiling at him from the other pillow, and Nat figured out the cover problem immediately. Zack was sleeping on top of the comforter, rather than under it with Nat. The absolute perfect gentleman-ness of that gesture sent a wave of affection through Nat. Nat had been vulnerable last night. He didn’t remember a lot of the night after they’d started dancing. Anything could have happened.

But here he was, safe and sound.

“Good morning,” Zack said, his soft voice like a balm to Nat’s somewhat hungover state.

“Morning. I’m in your bed.”

“Glad you noticed. You were pretty loopy when we got home last night, and the sofa wasn’t pulled out. Planting you here felt…right.”

“Yeah, I don’t remember coming home. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten so drunk.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” Zack’s lips twitched in the corners in a way that was almost shy. “I’m glad we went, and that I could help you unwind. Drink the pain away, so to speak.”

“Trouble with drinking the pain away is that it’s still waiting in the morning when the alcohol wears off.” But at least his pain was emotional (and slightly alcohol-related) rather than the battered-body kind. “You didn’t have to sleep on top of the covers.”

“Yes, I did. I didn’t want to assume what you’d be okay with, and I didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings of what happened while you were blacked out.”

“Thank you.” Nat sat up slowly, so he didn’t upset his tender stomach, and pulled his legs out from under the covers. “I really mean it, Zack, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Zack pushed off the blanket he’d slept under and sat up, too. His eyes were so soft, full of tenderness. Maybe even desire?

Nat’s heart fluttered. No one in his life had ever looked at Nat like that, as if they trulysawNat, for all his flaws and failings, and still wanted him.How is he a real person? How is this my life?

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