I glance down at where his thick thighs are resting on the edge of the bed. Then I picture him squeezing into a pair of my pants, and a sudden heat creeps up the back of my neck. I could really use a drink of water. “I’m not sure anything I have will fit you.”

As his eyes sweep over me, from my head down to my feet, it feels like he’s noticing my body for the very first time. I resist the urge to cover myself, not even sure which part I should cover. My legs, my skinny arms, my relatively flat but soft stomach.

I’m not ashamed of my body, and the guys I’ve dated haven’t seemed to have any complaints. But I’m not defined like Travis. He’s rugged and muscular, all hard edges, whereas I’m just... me. Not small enough to be considered a twink, and yet when other queer men look at me, I’m pretty sure nothing about me screams “top” to them.

There’s been more than a few guys who were surprised—and not pleasantly—to find that I liked to do it both ways.

“You’re probably right.” Travis stands. Now he’s the one looking self-conscious. “I can just sleep like this. It’s fine.”

“No, that isn’t fine. Sleeping in jeans is the worst.” God, this poor man was only trying to help me out. And now here he is, stuck at my house, forced to share a bed with me, and even willing to be in physical discomfort while he does it. “You can, uh... just take them off.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up like he wants to smirk, but I cut him off before he can say anything.

“Don’t tease me!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his fingers reaching out to graze briefly across my arm, leaving tingles in their wake. “This whole thing is a little... unexpected. But I think you being nervous and awkward is helping me stay grounded.”

“Gee, you’re welcome.”

His face becomes unbearably soft. Unbearable in the sense that I don’t see this softness from him often, and it’s making me want to lean closer to him. To climb into his lap and let him hold me.

Resisting this newfound urge is painful, but I’m strong.

“What I mean is,” he says slowly, “I don’t want this whole thing to make anything weird between us. When we’re done being a fake couple, we have to go back to being you and me, right? Pretending we’re together is bound to be a little awkward. So if we can joke about it, I think that’s a good thing.”

“I know,” I agree. “I’d never want things to be weird between us either.”

I couldn’t imagine losing Travis’s friendship. The bantering, the easy company. Not to mention, May and I would probably starve.