“Make yourself comfortable.” He handed me the bowl and walked over to his closet as he unbuttoned his shirt.

I sat on the edge of the bed, next to his laptop, eating a kernel of popcorn or five as I watched him choose a shirt. Eventually, he grabbed a black tee with “I don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss your neck” written on it in thin white letters, across the chest.

“You’re a fan?” I asked.

He glanced down and then at me. “I like a couple of songs. You?”

“I relate to that particular one,” I said, as he came over and stood in front of me.

He took the bowl of popcorn from my lap and placed it on top of his closed laptop. Then, he took me by the hand and started to pull me up to standing, only he had his knees in between my legs, touching the mattress, so I couldn’t get up without losing balance. As I faltered, he put his free hand around my waist.

“I got you,” he said softly, preventing me from tumbling back.

I put my hand on his chest, just over his heart, and was able to stand up straight. I could feel his breath on my neck as he gazed down at me, looking serious.

“Do you have a curfew?” he asked.

What’s a curfew?

“Not really, no,” I said, trying so very hard to concentrate.

“So, if we were to make out for a while, we could still watch the movie under the duvet after?”

“I, uh, y-yeah…” I bit my lip.

“I can do this, then?” he whispered, leaning down and slowly kissing my neck.

“Uh-huh.” I nodded slowly, absolutely, 100 percent distracted by the way he smelled of vanilla.

Then I lost my balance again, only this time, all he had to do was tighten his grip.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “You won’t fall.”

Liar.

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Only Lovers Left Alive

I woke up with Ethan gently rubbing his thumb in between my eyes. We were lying on our sides, facing each other.

“Hey, you,” I murmured, eyes still shut.

“You sleep like the dead; did you know that?” Ethan said, and I didn’t have to look to know that he’d said it through a smile.

“How so?”

“You barely move. It’s quite mesmerizing.”

I opened my eyes, expecting them to be flooded with brightness, but realized the only source of light in the bedroom was coming from the half-opened closet door near the bathroom.

“How long was I out for?” I asked, trying so hard to stay awake.

“Not long. A little over an hour.”

“Is it too late though? For the movie?”

“Don’t worry. We have time,” he said, softly. “It’s barely three in the morning.”

That meant we’d kissed for an hour, give or take. Before my narcolepsy.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.”