Page 115 of Too Safe

“Awful. My prescription’s 20/80.”

“Why don’t you wear contacts?” I ask.

His body stiffens, almost as if I’ve hit a nerve. Which doesn’t ever happen with Kylian. I lift my head, hoping I can read his thoughts in his expression, but he’s staring, straight-faced, at the patterns created by the sun and the stained-glass on the ceiling. I wait a few more seconds, then eventually accept his discomfort in the topic and rest my head on his chest.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in tighter. “Have you ever worn contacts?”

I shake my head. I’ve never been to an actual eye doctor, but in elementary school, the school nurse administered eye examines and said I had perfect vision.

“They’re the worst. I can see them. I can see them, and I can feel them. And it’s all I can think about when they’re resting against my eye.” He twitches and shudders. “Most people get used to it. But I can’t. It’s a tactile defensiveness thing. I just can’t deal.”

“I was just curious,” I say, stroking a hand up and down his chest in an attempt to soothe him. Even if I don’t understand what’s wrong, he’s obviously agitated.

“That’s what I do, Jo. I fixate,” he whispers.

I don’t stop my movements and I don’t respond. I leave him be while he remains lost in thought.

“I want to tell you something. Promise you won’t get weird.”

I still. That’s… quite the lead in. But I trust him. And there’s nothing he could say to change what’s grown between us.

“I’m on the spectrum,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Meaning?” I ask plainly.

“I’m autistic.”

I nod against his chest. I know he’s neurodivergent. I didn’t know his preference for how he likes to refer to it, but now I do. I’m grateful he shared it with me in his own way.

I love how his mind works. I love the focus and the clarity. There’s safety of being with him, because he takes the guesswork out of things for me. And knowing he feels close enough, safe enough, to open up to me makes my chest ache and my heart beat a little faster.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” I kiss his stomach and snuggle closer.

He lets out a loud scoff. “No, notokay, Jo.”

“Why not okay?” I laugh uneasily as dread bubbles in my stomach. I turn my head and tilt my chin to look at him, and he hits me with a steely gaze.

“Because that’s not the appropriate response,” he counters.

“Wait. Is this a test? You told me not to make it weird.” I laugh again, because now I’m really uncomfortable, and I don’t know what he wants me to say.

“It doesn’t bother you?” he pushes, a frown marring his face and accusation in his voice.

“Doesn’twhatbother me?”

“That you hooked up with a freak?”

I bolt upright, anger coursing through my veins. “Kylian,” I grit out. I wait until he looks at me before continuing. “Don’t ever say that about yourself again. And of course it doesn’t bother me.”

He holds my gaze but doesn’t reply, so I continue.

“I guess I thought what we were doing was more than just hooking up,” I challenge.

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and a look of dismay replaces his frown. “Itis.Shit. I’m fucking this up. Come here. Let me hold you.”

He opens his arms, and I cuddle into his embrace.

“I appreciate your transparency, but knowing the details changes nothing,” I assure him.

---