Page 93 of Class Clown

I exited the cabin to find him sitting on the porch stairs. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his head hanging down. I approached him slowly, noticing that his shirt was damp with sweat, and his muscles rigid. His shoulders tensed further as I drew closer, and I knew that he was aware of me, but I didn’t know if he’d completely woken up or if he was still trapped in whatever nightmare had gripped him.

My footsteps faltered when he whispered my name a second time. I wasn’t sure if it had been a plea to leave him alone, an acknowledgement of my presence, or a hope that I’d join him.

“Can I sit?” I asked into the stillness of the night.

“Yeah.”

His voice was rough and his hand shook a little as he pushed down on the wooden step and slid over to make room for me to sit next to him. The step was too narrow to allow space between us, so rather than fight it, I leaned into his side. He was so solid against me, no give at all, which made the shudder that ran down his spine all the more noticeable.

I threaded my fingers together and tucked my hands between my knees, unsure how to go about comforting him.

“You’re safe. I’ve never gotten violent,” he whispered.

It tugged at my heart that he’d be thinking of me at all right now. “Does this happen often?”

“It used to be more often, but now it’s every couple of months. It’s getting more spread out.”

“That’s good.”

He nodded. I had no idea if he preferred to talk or internally process when he was upset, but for now he was answering questions and letting me share his space, so I trudged forward figuring that he’d tell me when and if he wanted this to be done.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” I asked gently.

He raised his head and looked up at the moon. His profile was strong, and achingly handsome, but so resigned in that moment. I willed some of my strength into him from the place where our shoulders and hips met.

“A bad memory. One I don’t want you to carry too.”

“I’m willing to share the load.”

“Just knowing that is enough for tonight.”

He looked to me, his lips lifting slightly at the corners, and surprised me by reaching for me and hauling me into his lap. He managed to slide back to the middle of the step to make room for my legs to dangle off the side of his, as he wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned his forehead against my shoulder. My hands were still balled together, it all happened so fast, and I relaxed them before laying them over the arm that was banded across my stomach. His body was as hot as an oven, but he didn’t seem to be shaking as badly, which was encouraging.

I snuggled in as best I could, enjoying the unexpected closeness.

“Tell me a story,” he mumbled, one of his thumbs caressing my side.

“Alright. What kind of story?”

“A happy one.”

I smiled to myself. Of course, he wasn’t going to ask for a murder mystery right now. I shifted to put my arm around his shoulder, playing lightly with his sweat-dampened hair as I began.

“Once upon a time there was a fair maiden. I’m seriously talking fair. She was perfect and the princes of all the lands wanted her, but she was picky in bestowing her favors. She traveled from kingdom to kingdom, sampling the goods but never settling down.”

“Sampling the goods?” he asked.

“Pastries, Nico, this is a family show.”

“Ah.”

His voice was amused and he pressed a kiss to my shoulder that I felt down to my toes.

“Anyhow, there was only one kingdom where the pastries were horrible and the prince was the worst. He stuck up his nose when she’d walk by, never giving her the time of day. At first, she found it kind of refreshing. It was nice to not be hunted down for her beauty. After a time, his mother invited her to the castle to dine with them, and she accepted. They were having escargot for dinner, and it made her sad because she had a soft spot in her heart for snails.”

“Obviously.” His amusement warmed my chest.

“But, she’d been taught to respect the traditions of other kingdoms and to never offend the hostess, so she took a reluctant bite of slimy, greasy, really salty, snails. They’d been brought fresh from the kitchens and she burned her tongue. Still, she pushed on, trying to be kind, and right as she took the last bite, she turned into a unicorn and the bad prince jumped on her to ride her down to his stables full of other gorgeous and innocent unicorns. She should have listened to her gut and left the snails alone.”

---