Page 69 of Left In The Dark

He looks next to him and then where I’m tossing the beanbag on the floor. “If you sit next to me, I can see the pages better and follow along.”

“Want to read with me?” I scoot the table to the mattress, placing the brownies on top and setting the two coloring books next to it before stacking the pencils on top.

His gaze follows my hands. “Coloring books are more for kids, aren’t they?”

“Not necessarily. Many adults find it relaxing. You can always try it out, and if you don’t like it, I can bring crossword books or something. Anything beats carving into the wall.” I gesture behind him and he turns around, stiffening.

“Sorry. It helps me keep track of the days and . . . and it’s kind of like a journal.”

“I can bring you a notebook too, if you’d like, and a calendar.”

“Really? I . . . if you don’t mind.”

“Let’s see how well you do these next few days and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, sounding smaller, and I lower myself next to him.

“You have a blue mask on today.” He lifts his hand and then stops inches away from me.

“Yeah. I have many different colors.”

“Blue is my favorite color.”

“This shade or a different one?” I grab his hand and bring it to my cheek.

“This color’s nice.” His breaths hitch and he drags his fingers down to where my mask ends and shirt begins before pulling back.

“Can I have a brownie now or should I wait until you start reading?”

“Go for it. You can have as many as you want too.”

His lips curl and he nearly jumps from the mattress, snatching the container from the table, and he brings it between us, resting it on both our laps. He cracks the lid open and I pull the book from the bag, flipping to where I slipped a receipt inside.

“Do you always use receipts as book marks?” he teases, and I haven’t seen him being playful like this in a while. Why does it have my heart racing so damn fast?

“Receipts, clothing tags, rubber bands, old matches, whatever’s within reach.”

He chuckles. “Old matches?”

I lift my shoulders. “Like I said. Whatever’s within reach, and I go through a lot of matches in the winter time.”

“I used to go through a lot too. I love candles. It would drive my dad crazy whenever I’d fall asleep before blowing them out.”

“Sounds like you needed a candle warmer.”

“Probably.” He leans in closer, lifting a brownie to his dry, cracked lips. I immediately add chapstick to the list of things to grab on my way home from work tomorrow.

He moans around his first bite, shoving the rest of the decadent dessert into his mouth. His cheeks puff out and crumbs go everywhere.

“You’re one of those, I see.” I dust off my pants and lift the book between us.

“One of what?” he says with his mouth full, and I bite back a smile. Why does he have to be so fucking cute and keep doing cute things? Why do I have to want him so damn much? Fuck, I want him. I can’t ever say it enough either.

“People who eat in bed and have to dust your blankets off repeatedly.”

His face blushes. “Sometimes. Whenever I’m able to sneak food from the fridge into my room. My dad hates us going into the kitchen after a certain time.”

“Your dad treats you like a damn child.”