Page 73 of Should Our Stars Collide

What the heck is he supposed to do with that?

Sleep it off. That’s what he should do. With a bit of luck, when he wakes up in the morning, everything will make more sense, and this weird, squirmy ache niggling under his ribs will be gone too.

Next morning, the clock reads 6:17, and Kieran’s wide awake, which is offensive. He’s somehow both exhausted and overstimulated from spending all night in a dream-based hostage situation. A hostage situation starring none other than the asshole who’s no doubt sleeping like an angel next door, while Kieran is spending every minute of the day trying to keep his brain from exploding. Ash has no fucking idea what it’s like to have his dream version say, ‘I always want to be by your side’, while the real version is out here just being a stable presence in Kieran’s life. Fuck, he’s not equipped for this emotional turbulence.

He kicks off the blankets with a grunt, stalks out of the guest room, and makes a beeline for the master bedroom like a man on a mission. A furious, sleep-deprived, deeply confused mission with no clear objective beyond yelling at someone.

He pounds on the door. “Wake up! You’re not allowed to sleep like a peaceful angel while I’m losing my goddamn mind!”

A few moments later, the door creaks open. Ash appears, blinking sleepily, hair sticking up in fluffy disaster peaks, lookingwaytoo soft for this godforsaken hour. He’s also not wearing a shirt. Or pants. Because why would he, right?

Kieran glares at him. “You look like a damn cloud. I hate it.”

Ash squints. “...Good morning to you too?”

“No. There’s nothing good about it. I didn’t sleep, I’m cranky, and my brain spent the whole night airing a low-budget soap opera starringyou. Because you won’t leave me alone, not even in my sleep. Probably not even in my death.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“It was not.”

“So you dreamed about me?”

Of course the fucker would focus on that part. “Against my will!”

“Hm…no, that doesn’t sound right. Consent is of utmost importance.”

“Great. So stay out of my head from now on. And get dressed. We’re going on a witch hunt, before Zeke messes something else up.”

“How about breakfast first?”

“No.” His stomach is already feeling weird.

“Coffee?”

“No. Let’s go. Now.”

“CanIhave a coffee?”

“If I have to suffer, so do you,” Kieran informs him, absolutelynotthinking that Ash looks cute when he pouts. Nope. “Five minutes,” he throws over his shoulder, stalking away before his brain conjures up any more disturbing thoughts.

Their arrival atLost and Groundis marked by Kieran’s growling stomach. The smell of fresh pastries and roasted coffee beans hits him like a freight train of regret. Maybe heshould’vetaken Ash up on the offer of breakfast.

But then he sees Zeke’s stupid, smiling, unsuspecting face, and his hunger is forgotten.

“Woohoo, look who’s here!” Zeke shouts, oblivious to the cosmic disaster he’s caused. “Gabe? Gabe! The chaotic husbands have returned!”

Kieran casts a look at Ash. Flat, judgmental.

“I have nothing to do with that,” Ash says, hands in the air.

“I don’t even care.” He would like to, he just doesn’t have the bandwidth.

A flash of messy blond hair appears in the kitchen window. “Are they? Yay! Gimme a sec, I’m all sticky,” Gabe yells back.

Behind the counter, Zeke fiddles with the coffee machine, which hisses like it’s being exorcised. Then he whips off his apron and rounds the counter.

“Alright, I’m all done.” He spreads his arms wide. “Come to Papa Zeke and give him a biiig hug.”