Serious Moonlight(76)

“Thanks.” Right now he was kind of lying on top of me, and it felt really good. “Hey,” I said. “Want to have sex?”

“Oh my God.”

“Well, well, well. Who’s the prude now?” I laughed. Really hard. “See? I didn’t go boneless that time. Where are you going? Come back!”

He sat up to grab his phone. “I’ve got to look up narcolepsy and weed before I go crazy worrying about you. Hold on.”

“Holding,” I said, and looked up at the ceiling. It was green too. These nutty people were committed to the color green, and I had to admire that. Actually, this whole crazy house looked . . .

“Birdie!”

“What?” I said, jerking my head up. “I’m awake!”

“You sure?”

“Must’ve dozed off. How long was I out?”

“I thought that cataplexy thing was happening to you again, but you were snoring a little.”

“Good grief,” I mumbled. “I guess I didn’t sleep so well earlier this morning. Must be catching up with me.”

He stared at me and then said, “I looked up weed and narcolepsy.”

“Am I going to die?”

“One day, but not tonight. THC may make you sleepier than the average person.” He ran his hand over the side of my face while his eyes studied mine. “I wish you had told me.”

“Guess we were both keeping secrets from each other, huh?”

He nodded slowly. “Guess we were.”

“He-e-y,” I said, leaning into his hand. “Weren’t we talking about having sex?”

He snorted. “I’m not having sex with you.”

“Ever?”

“We’ll see.”

We laughed a little, and then a lot. But I didn’t go boneless again, thank goodness. He made me get up and walk around, just to check that everything was okay—which of course it was. I just felt a tiny bit weak. I couldn’t concentrate on the movie anymore, so we tried looking through the record collection. Records, and records, and records . . .

Next thing I knew, I was waking up again, and Daniel was sitting me down on the coffee table so that he could spread out a sheet on the couch. The TV was off. The birdcages were covered up. All the lights were out except for a lamp next to the couch. “What’s happening?” I asked, looking for a clock. “What time is it?”

“Three. You’ve fallen asleep four times.”

Whoa. That was . . . more than usual.

“You’re staying here with me tonight,” he told me.

“Oh, okay,” I said, still feeling good. “Where’s my phone? I’d better text Grandpa Hugo. Oh, wait. I don’t have to. He’s gone fishing. Literally. Maybe I should make sure Aunt Mona isn’t looking for me . . .” No messages. I was in the clear. I sent her a quick text to let her know I’d call her tomorrow and that I was turning in for the night.

“All good?” he said, when her reply came—a “good night” and lots of sugary emojis.

“All good.”

“I’ll take you back home tomorrow.” He pulled me to my feet and gently tugged the flower out of my hair, tossing it on the coffee table, then pointed at my jeans. “May I?”

“You may.”

He unbuttoned my jeans. “Don’t get any ideas. We’re just going to sleep.”

“Together?”

“Is that okay?”

“Best idea you’ve had. Keep on doing what you’re doing,” I said, slinging my arms around his neck as he unzipped me and pushed my jeans down over my hips. Then he was urging me onto the couch and taking off his own jeans. And his shirt. Holy cow, I’d forgotten how nice he was to look at. He gave me a really good view of the front of his boxers when he leaned over me to turn off the light. And then he lay down with me on the couch, pulling me halfway on top of him to make room enough for the both of us.

“You okay?” he asked, and I felt the question rumble in his chest under my cheek.

“So okay.” Strange silhouettes populated the strange room, but it was fine, because he had his arms around me, and something about the way his skin smelled made me feel happy. Safe. “I’ve never slept with someone else. I mean actual sleeping.”

“Me either.”

“Not even with that Emily girl?”

“Nope.”

Huh. “Well, I’ll let you know my verdict tomorrow, but so far I’m liking it. We’ll just take a short nap, okay?”

“Sure. Just a nap.”

“Hey, Daniel? Do you think if we fall asleep together, we’ll have the same dreams?”

“I hope not. My dreams can get filthy. You might never want to speak to me again.”

“My dreams might be filthier. I have super vivid ones. I could be dreaming right now.”

“You should count your fingers.”

“I can’t see them. It’s too dark.”

“Guess you’ll have to go on faith.” His hand stroked up and down my back. “You scared me tonight.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay. I’m still glad you’re here, even if we didn’t run the gauntlet.”