Page 14 of Goldilocks

“He got it while we were arguing. I triggered it.”

“Mary told you he gets bad headaches,” Ivan reminded him. “That’s not your fault. And don’t get stuck in your head about it, Eric. Just be chill. He’s probably had a headache since he got punched in hisheadand just didn’t tell you. Blaming yourself won’t make his headache go away.”

“I feel like he hatesme.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He definitely does!”

“Nobodyhates you. You’re hypersensitive around him because you’re stressed out and nervous.” Ivan answered Eric’s rising voice with a calm, temperate one. “He probably feels like you came out of nowhere, so I’m guessing he’s unsure about you, and I’m surehe’snervous around you too. Ease up on the pressure you’re putting on yourself and him and get to know each other normally. Okay?”

“…what if hates me after getting to know me?”

“He won’t.”

“But what if—”

“He won’t, Eric. I promise.”

There was a beeping next to Sam’s ear.

“Alright, there’s the timer. Let’s lift him up.” Ivan’s arm moved to Sam’s chest. Sam wanted to tell him he was fine, he could straighten up himself. But the muscles around his mouth stayed slack, unwilling to move. He felt like a doll, like Ivan’s arms, the strings, were the only thing that could move him. “You still with us, Sam?” Sam was propped upright, his head lolling back onto the headrest of the car. He tried to open his eyes; his body refused.

“Sam?” Ivan repeated his name another half dozen times. “Alright, he is totally gone. Probably should have just given him one pill.”

“Ivan,” Eric chastised.

“He’s fine, just chill out. At the very least, I’m dead sure his head isn’t bothering him anymore. Let’s bring him back to our flat. We can keep an eye on him that way. Unless you think it’d be better to bring him back to his place?” Ivan asked.

“I don’t want to go there,” Eric said immediately.

“I know you don’t. Should I drive him?”

“Why wouldyoudrive him?”

“Alright, alright. What happened to chilling out? Meet you there.”

Chapter Five

Sam woke to the smell of frying onions and the sound of someone’s warm laugh. He blinked, eyelids heavy, and he rolled from his side onto his back to stare up at an unfamiliar ceiling. His tongue was dry in his mouth, his throat parched like how it got when he took too many painkillers before bed. He sat up, fighting his grogginess as vague memories of being propped up between Ivan and Eric came back to him. He remembered Ivan taking off his shoes. Remembered Eric being scolded for fussing too much. The dusty rose duvet draped over him had an indent at his side, and Sam pressed his hand to the spot, finding it still warm. Eric must have only just left.

Sam dabbed his sore cheek and felt a greasy cream spread there. The room gave no hints, so he peered out the window to figure out where he was. One of the flats above a business on the main road running through the village. The sky had an indigo hue, and Sam guessed it was nearing seven or eight in the evening.

Sam walked barefoot to the door, following voices and the smell of food. A short hall led to a joint kitchen and living room, the rooms divided by a kitchen island.

Ivan and Eric stood side by side in the small kitchen. Eric stirred something in a pan, and Ivan leaned against the counter next to him, sipping from a blue mug with a smiling octopus printed on the side. Ivan spotted Sam and offered him a smile.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Ivan greeted.

“Sam?” Eric jerked toward him, flinched, jerked back. “Jesus, ow, shit.”

Ivan choked on his drink, bending double as a belly-deep laugh rumbled out of him. “Hold it together, man, come on,” he got out through deep gasps.

Eric put a hand into Ivan’s face and shoved him away.

“Did you burn yourself?” Ivan asked through a faceful of hand.

“No.”