I put my phone down on the mattress and got up, unbuttoned my jeans, and took off my shirt.

“Do you want a T-shirt?” he asked, eyes fixed on my waistline.

“No, the one I have on is fine.”

He turned back and disappeared inside the closet again. Moments later, he came out, wearing nothing but black sweatpants.

I stood by the bed, shivering.

“Are you cold?” he asked, noticing my hands.

I didn’t want to be too obvious that I was fucking freezing, so I had both arms stretched down, keeping them as close to my sides as possibly, fists clenched.

“Aren’t you?” I asked him.

“Not really. I should’ve warned you, the heating’s been on the fritz lately. The whole building is under maintenance.” He got in bed with his back against the window and pulled the duvet up to his waist. “Come here.” He lifted the duvet just a bit.

I slid under the covers, arms now glued to my chest.

“Closer,” he commanded, smiling.

I scooted over, and he instantly put one arm around me. He held me close, pulling the duvet further up, covering my back while enveloping me with his other arm.

“Jesus, you are cold,” he said as I shook in his arms—almost entirely due to the cold. He kept rubbing an open palm on my back in circles.

“What?” he asked, and it was then that I noticed I’d been staring.

“Y-you’re warm.”

“I almost never get cold. It comes in handy sometimes.”

“O-oh.”

“Was that what you meant?”

“Yeah, th-that too.”

“Try to relax, you’re all tensed up.”

I was. For some reason, I didn’t want to put my arm around him. I knew that if I did, I’d cross some line I wasn’t entirely sure I should be crossing.

“Ethan?” I finally spoke after a beat.

“Huh?”

“I think you need to stop.” I put my hand in between him and the mattress to try to lift myself up.

He scoffed. “Why? Am I doing it wrong?” He kept a firm hold, preventing me from sitting up.

It gave me no choice but to spread my arm across his chest as he kept pulling me closer. “No. It’s just—I—I could get used to this, so I think it would be better if you—”

“You could get used to being cold?”

“You, holding me like this,” I said quietly. “Maybe you—”

“Wait, how is that bad?”

“It’s not bad—”

“Then, get used to it,” he stated casually.

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not what I mean—”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you keep being like this, I might get used to it. And I don’t mean only right now.”

“That’s what I thought you meant,” he said smugly.

“Ethan.”