Page 59 of Top Shelf
It’s the truth, but what I don’t mention is the sketchbook I bought before the flight here, the one I got in hopes that something would light a spark in me and I could draw again. Nothing has though. It’s still sitting blank at the bottom of one of my bags.
He waves his hand. “You’re settled now.”
He’s right, but there’s still something holding me back, and I’m not quite sure just what that is. Maybe it’s my lingering anger over the divorce, or maybe it’s just that I haven’t felt inspired lately. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll figure it out, and I’ll get back into my favorite hobby even if it only remains a hobby.
Besides, do I really think I could open a studio? Once upon a time, I think I would’ve been great at it, but I haven’t beenmein so long that I don’t know if I could.
But I don’t tell Gavin all that. I say, “Guess we’ll just have to see what happens.”
He looks like he wants to say something else about that but decides not to, and I’m relieved. I’m not sure it’s something I want to dive further into right now.
He yawns.
“Sorry,” he says through a second one.
“Don’t be. You should probably get to bed anyway. I’m sure you have a long day of travel ahead of you tomorrow.”
“Not too bad of a flight to Southern California, but it’ll feel long with it being the first road trip of the season.”
He pushes to his feet, grabbing a few containers of food, and I follow behind him. We clean up our dinner mess, and Gavin shows me around the kitchen, pointing out where everything is. I’m sure I’ll forget half of it by morning, but I love that he’s trying to make me feel at home. Truthfully, I’m thankful he’s leavingfor a few days. It’s not that I don’t want him around, but it’ll give me time to settle in without things feeling so awkward.
Just like the other night when I stayed here, he makes up his spot on the couch while I get ready for bed in the bathroom. I’m snuggled down in the sheets when he comes into the room.
“All done in there?” he asks.
“Yep. It’s all yours.”
He shuts himself inside the bathroom while I lie there, staring at the ceiling and listening to him move around. This all feels so weird, being in Gavin’s penthouse, sleeping in his bed, putting him out by making him sleep on the couch. I don’t like it one bit.
When he emerges, I’m still lying there, my gaze on the ceiling. I roll over to look at him as he stands awkwardly by the door.
“So, uh, good night, I guess,” he says after a few moments.
“Yeah, good night,” I mumble back.
He gives me a tight smile before heading toward the door, and I hold my breath as I watch him go. I don’t want him to leave. I want him to stay, and not just because he has more of a right to this bed than I do. I just don’t want to be lonely.
He’s just about out of the room when I find myself saying, “Gavin, wait.”
He pauses, then slowly turns back to me.
“Stay.”
“What?” he asks, though he doesn’t look taken aback by my words. It’s almost as if he expected them.
“Stay,” I repeat. “Please.”
I hear him swallow all the way across the room. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “I’m sure.”
I don’t have to ask him again, and when he disappears into the living room—probably to grab his phone and pillow—I know he’s coming back.
And he does. He pushes the door closed with a quietsnickof the latch, then settles into the bed beside me like we’ve done this a hundred times before. I roll over to face him.
He smiles. “Thanks.”
“No need to thank me. It’s your bed. Besides, I couldn’t let you sleep on that couch knowing you’re traveling tomorrow and won’t be back in your bed for at least a week. It just didn’t feel right. And also, it’s not like we haven’t done this before…”
