Next to You

by Hannah Bonam-Young

“Nah, I usually account for power outages, rainstorms, and horror-film motels,” he teases softly with a smile. “Seriously though, it’s all good.” “Okay.” But it isn’t. It’s far from okay. “The company isn’t half bad.” He offers a sleepy smile, his eyes still adjusting to the light. God, I could get used to waking up to that smile. “No?” I scrunch up my face. “Even when I make myself your personal weighted blanket?” I bite my lip, squinting like he’s the morning sun coming through the window. Did I make him uncomfortable? “What?” He startles like that is the single most preposterous thing he’s ever heard. “That was the best part. I was cursing those lights for making me move.” He jumps to stand, as if he didn’t say anything important at all. As if my heart didn’t just perform a triple back handspring. “You know, people would pay for that service. Like a deep tissue relaxation technique.”