The Muse's Undoing

“Hmm…maybe,” I hum against his neck. “Hope you can sleep like this because I’m staying until my alarm goes off at nine.”

“Jesus.”

“Can’t bring myself to leave you.”

“That’s both pathetic and sweet.”

“You don’t want me to go, though. Do you?”

“No,” he says, holding my arm against his chest. “Until Vaughn gets here, you’re mine.”

I close my eyes and settle into him. The cautious part of me wants to chalk everything that just happened up to sleep deprivation—delirium—but I know this man—maybe too well, and we may joke around, but I don’t think he’d have touched me like that if he didn’t want it.

Me.

20

MATTHEW

The evening after.

Yeah, it’s awkward. Or, at least, I feel awkward when I wake up in Fischer’s empty bed, remembering in vivid detail everything I said and did before I fell asleep in his arms.

I venture into the living room and find him lying on the couch with Vaughn who looks about two minutes away from going comatose. They’re watching Coco again. “Big day at the park?”

“I thought I was gonna die,” Fischer says.

Vaughn reaches up and pats his dad’s cheek. “I’ll come see you if you die, Dad.”

He’s watched this movie way too many times.

“Tell uncle Matty he should have a sleepover with us tonight,” Fischer says.

“In my room?”

“No offense, bud, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep anymore tonight.” I slept for nearly twelve hours. That’s not typical for me at all.

I cross the room to the kitchen, pour myself a glass of water from the tap, and guzzle it. I refill it, take one more sip, and contemplate where I want to sit, or if I want to sit.

Fischer draws his legs up slightly, indicating where he thinks I should go. Once I’m there, he puts his legs on my lap and stares me down. “I’m not spending the night,” I tell him.

“I know. And I’m guessing you’re not coming back in the morning either.”

I glance at his face, which is drawn and pensive. I hadn’t counted on the truth coming between us quite like this, but I have a sinking feeling it has. And here I’d thought sex was the bad idea. Turned out it was just the idea of it. I wrinkle my nose. “Maybe we need a break.”

“We just had a break,” he pushes back.

“And look how that wound up.”

“Matty…”

“Shh. Watch the movie, Dad,” Vaughn says, giving Fischer a backhand to the chest.

I smirk and pull up a food delivery app on my phone.

He sighs and settles back into position with Vaughn, holding him not unlike he held me this morning. It’s so sweet it makes my stomach hurt.

I order a Cobb salad with no blue cheese and set down my phone. I glance at Fischer again, and he’s still looking at me. I frown. He rolls his eyes. I rub his socked feet, figuring a full day at the park warrants it. He sighs contentedly, and we watch the rest of the movie, which conveniently ends exactly at Vaughn’s eight o’clock bedtime.