Page 93 of When In Doubt

“We do it however you’re comfortable with.” He reaches out and palms my cheek. I can’t help but sigh as I lean into the grounding touch.

I try to be brave. “Could I sit on your lap?”

“That sounds fucking fantastic.” He smirks, easing some of the tension that’s zapping up my spine.

I shift, putting my hands on his shoulders and going to straddle him. My foot knocks into the table and I huff a laugh. I’m not exactly playing this cool.

“Here.” Oscar moves slowly, bringing his hands to my hips so that he can guide me, maneuvering my body until I’m across his thighs. “Is this okay?”

I nod, not able to speak past the lump in my throat.

“Great.” His palms skim up my sides until he’s cupping my cheeks. “Come here.” At his gentle urging, I drop forward, resting my weight against him. My cheek finds a home against his shoulder, and it’s like someone’s turned down the volume on everything going on in my head.

I flatten my hands against his chest as one of his arms wraps around my back, the soft pressure keeping me against him. His other hand starts combing through my hair in smooth, rhythmic strokes.

It only takes a few seconds before I’ve completely melted into him. My chest feels like a megawatt lightbulb, humming with so much energy. He presses his lips against my forehead and a single tear snakes its way down my cheek, soaking into the fabric of his shirt. My cheeks start burning with the kind of prickling sensation that comes when you’ve been out in the cold so long that your skin turns numb, but then come in and stand in front of a fire. It’s like I’m being recharged.

Is this what everyone feels? Is this what I’ve been lacking for so much of my life? The thought makes me furious, that so many people would lock this feeling away from me.

“Were you scared to ask me?” Oscar murmurs, his voice pained.

I sniffle, only now realizing that I’ve started crying in earnest. Whether it’s from joy or sadness, I have no idea.

“A little?” I admit. “Not because of anything you’ve done.”

“Because of him?”

My silence is confirmation enough. Oscar’s low grumble echoes into my ear, and I don’t know whether I’m hearing it or feeling it. I snuggle into him closer and his grip tightens.

Yes.

This is it.

This is what everybody talks about.

His hands carry on their movements through my hair, alternating between carding through the strands and resting his palm on the back of my head. His fingertips trace patterns on the shell of my ear and I wonder what it was that I was so afraid of.

“This is nice,” I mumble.

“Anytime you want. You don’t even have to ask.”

I feel my eyes getting heavy as I listen to the steady thud of Oscar’s heartbeat. It’s like every shred of adrenaline has melted out of me, replaced by an overwhelming sense of rightness, of wholeness.

“You can put the TV on or something, if you want.” I know this is probably boring for him, but right now I’m feeling too selfish to stop.

He gives a little grumble of dissatisfaction. “I’m right where I wanna be,” he says into my hair.

I’m not going to ask twice.

I trace my fingers along the lines of his flannel, barely able to keep my eyes open.

“You getting sleepy?” he asks.

My yawn gives me away. I chuckle. “Mhm.”

“Come on, then.”

I feel the muscles in his thighs flex, then he’s standing. I yelp as he takes me with him, looping his arms under my thighs and lifting me into the air with seemingly very little effort.