Page 132 of Should the Sky Fall

“You like it?”

“Lady Gaga or being gay?”

Cal huffs a small laugh. “Lady Gaga.”

“Oh, yeah. She’s the best. I just can’t listen to anything when I’m like this.”

Cal’s expression turns thoughtful. “I’d like to try something, if you allow me. I did a bit of reading on headaches and migraines after you told me you suffer from them. Some people said that a massage helps to alleviate the pain.”

It takes a minute to process the words. “You read up on migraines? For me?”

“I wanted to help.”

Dawson doesn’t know what to say. No one’s ever done something like this for him. Hell, sometimes evenhecan’t be bothered to do any more research.

“Can I try?”

“What?”

“To give you a massage.”

“Oh. Um. Yeah, sure. If you want.”

“I do.” Cal slowly climbs onto the bed. “There are a few ways to do it, but the instructions said it’s best if I sit behind you and you rest your head in my lap.”

Glad that Cal can’t see his blush in the dark, he shifts around until Cal can easily slot behind him. He waits until Cal settles into position, his legs crossed and a pillow in his lap.

Dawson lies back, head on the pillow and heart pounding.

“I’ve never done this. Obviously. So if you don’t like something, just tell me.”

“I will.”

Then Cal’s hands are on him, touching his neck and nape. There’s no way he can see properly, so he has to go by touch alone. His thumbs press into the two spots on either side of Dawson’s spine that are always tight, and a long, drawn-out moan escapes him. He freezes, embarrassed by his reaction.

“Is this okay?” Cal asks.

Dawson gulps. “It’s good.”

That seems to be all the permission Cal needs. He spends some time on Dawson’s shoulders, which isdivine,then slowly makes his way up his neck, finding sore spots in places Dawson didn’t know he had. He doesn’t care if it helps his headache or not. The massage itself is perfect.

He starts to drift off when Cal reaches his head, massaging his scalp in a circular motion. His temples, in particular, are super achy, and the pressure Cal applies is just right. It might not cure his headache, but Dawson can feel some of the tension bleeding out, making the pain less intense.

“How’s that?”

“So good,” Dawson mumbles, already halfway to dreamland. “I think you found your calling.”

“My calling?”

“Professional massage therapist.”

Cal lets out a low chuckle, the sound sending a thrill through Dawson’s spine. “Thank you. But I don’t think I’d enjoy touching random people. I enjoy doing it for you, though.”

Cal really should be banned from saying shit like that.

“Good. I might get you to do it more often.”

“I’d be happy to.”