After the third time he did it, I pulled the cushion out of his way when he sat back down and held it to my chest. By the end of the match, our shoulders were touching. I didn’t move away. He was big and solid and warm and I liked the feel of him beside me. A little while later, when my eyes began to droop, he lifted his arm, and I didn’t even flinch when it came down around my shoulder. Instead, I nestled my cheek against his side and closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift off to sleep without an ounce of fear in my heart because it couldn’t exist inside of me, not when this boy had his arm
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