‘No, this is fine.It’s my usual side anyway.’This is a lie, of course.He normally sleeps on the left, but he’s not going to say that now.
With a big sigh, he lies down under the covers.This is fine.They’re not touching at all – thankfully Christopher’s bedis wide enough for them both.But he can definitely feel the warmth of Nash’s body.
Christopher is so tall that his feet stick out the end of the bed, which is unfortunately normal and he’s grown used to sleeping with cool toes.But he hadn’t banked on the fact that Nash is a bit of a duvet hog.Not only is it pulled up against him, but he’s tucked it around himself, forming a neat little cocoon that leaves little for Christopher to manoeuvre with.There’s a cold strip running down the length of his body where the duvet doesn’t reach the mattress.
He tugs a little on the duvet but it holds fast.Another tug, and a wriggle, and still, nothing.
‘Could you possibly cede some of the covers,’ he sniffs, tugging once again.
‘You’ve got more than enough.’
‘I do not.I’m barely covered.’
‘Yes but that’s because you’re freakishly long and not because I’m using more than my fair share,’ says Nash from the other side of the bed, where he is almost certainly hogging over fifty per cent of the duvet.
‘You are.You’re not even that big and you’re hogging it.’
‘Maybe you’re just not used to sharing.’
‘Or maybe you’re just bad at it.’
Nash groans and sits up to assess the situation.‘Christopher.The reason the duvet is barely covering you is because you’ve left a gulf the size of the Mariana Trench between us.Stop being a weirdo, lie on the bed normally, and the blanket will fit.’
Annoyingly, Nash isn’t wrong.This is worse than Christopher thinking that Nash was just a selfish bed mate, because it meansChristopheris being weird, and it’s becominga thing.
‘Fine.Sorry.’
‘Stop saying sorry.’
He shuffles sideways under the covers; the radiated heat gets stronger and stronger.
Until they make physical contact.They both jerk back, as though electrocuted by the touch.
‘I said get closer, not get on top of me,’ groans Nash, and Christopher can feel himself going deep maroon again.
‘Goodnight!’he practically shouts, rolling over onto his side with his back to Nash.He leans over to the table on his side and flicks off the light.Now, only the lamp on Nash’s side lights the room in a dusky orange glow.
‘Night,’ Nash sighs with exasperation, but Christopher swears there’s a smile in there.There’s a curve to his words, a softness.
But he doesn’t settle down to sleep and the light is still on.From the small movements behind him, it seems as if he’s still up reading things on his phone.
‘I thought you were going to go to sleep?’murmurs Christopher after about ten minutes.
‘Weren’t you?’
‘Clearly I’m attempting to.’
‘I’ll attempt you in a moment.’
Christopher rolls onto his back.‘What does that even mean?What are you doing anyway?’
‘None of your business.’But after a beat he adds, ‘Emails.’
‘It’s quite late.’
‘Not in LA.’
‘Is everything all right?Don’t they know you’re on holiday?Or is this an American work culture thing?’
