So why did he light up from the inside whenever the iPhone buzzed with an incoming message?

Speaking of… the phone vibrated in his hand, and Micah quickly swiped right.

Telepathy. (Micah had asked Damon what superpower he’d choose to have if superpowers existed.) I have a feeling you’d say flying if I asked you in return-

Damon wasn’t going to let the jumping off the roof when he was a kid thing go, was he? Micah had been eight.

-so, instead, when’s your birthday?

Micah squinted suspiciously at the question. It seemed innocent enough on the surface, but so had Damon’s late Wednesday night question about whether Micah preferred silk or cotton.

Guess who had called Micah at work around noon the next day because “some tattooed ruffians with a huge mattress are trying to break into your apartment”? That’s right, his elderly neighbor, Mrs. Gregory.

Because Damon had taken it upon himself to buy Micah a new bed – fluffy pillows, cobalt blue comforter, silken sheets, and all. And he’d paid an undoubtedly outrageous sum to have them delivered to Micah’s apartment that day.

Micah had had to use his lunch break to rush back to his place and let the movers in (one of whom he’d recognized as Geoffrey) – but not before he’d called Damon and hollered at him for the presumptuous gift. Damon didn’t sound contrite about his actions at all; in fact, he seemed pleased to endure Micah’s testy telling-off.

At least until Micah had convinced him to begrudgingly agree to take the price of the bed and accessories out of his weekly paycheck. (It wasn’t like Micah actually had any designs on the money, anyway.) Then Damon had just sounded put out.

At least the man had had the good sense to get him a queen-size bed and not a king. There wouldn’t have been much floor space left otherwise. Micah was reluctant to admit it, but the bed was actually really nice – an unparalleled improvement over his lumpy twin. He’d slept better last night than he had in ages. (Not that he was about to tell Damon that.)

Micah grabbed a cookie from the sleeve of peanut butter patties he’d grabbed from his pantry, careful not to get crumbs on the new sheets as he munched on the treat.

That was the other thing.

Damon had bought him a ridiculous amount of groceries on Wednesday.

When the man had said he was sending Geoffrey off to pick up a few snacks, Micah hadn’t expected Damon’s chauffeur to return to his apartment with five loads of groceries. His refrigerator and pantry were fuller than they had ever been, stuffed to the brim with expensive, organic foods that were probably much better for him than the frozen pizzas and processed mac and cheese he usually bought.

His cupboards had enough dry goods to easily last him through December.