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Laney had never seen Dustin take to anyone the way he took to Shane. None of them said much that meal, speaking almost entirely in single-syllables like “no” and “good”. More was said without words than with them as they tentatively made space for each other to communicate. It was a little unnerving, both Dustin and Laney sharing furtive looks as Shane volleyed between nonverbal and verbal responses, not as practiced as the two of them. But he’d caught on like it was nothing, and it felt… nice. To share their secret language with someone else.

She watched with glowing satisfaction as Shane methodically devoured three plates of Dusty’s chicken stir fry, wondering how long Dustin had been helping supply him with food.

Shane’s hair was flat on the right side where it’d been squished to the pillow. She’d been pleasantly surprised when he wrapped himself around her like a barnacle, even if he was unconscious at the time. His skin was oddly cold, like it had absorbed all the damp of the fall season and hadn’t shaken it off yet. But he was so big, dwarfing her body with his, and he smelled like something woodsy and cold and sharp. It reminded her of fresh snow in February.

After dinner, Shane had swiftly cleared up their dishes and the pots and pans, wiping down the counter and washing out the sink before thoroughly wringing out the dishcloth and hanging it over the kitchen tap. Laney and Dustin shared a look, entirely unaccustomed to any kind of help with the house.

He cleared his throat, running his palm over the back of his head (clearly a nervous habit) and she actively fought the blush trying to creep up her neck. Even with overgrown bed head, his clothes rumpled from sleep, he made her mouth water.

Cute, she thought. He’s… really cute.

It wasn’t the right word. Not really. There were some boys in her class that were cute. And sexy didn’t feel right, either. To her annoyance, he was distinctly not vibing at her that way , and she was well versed in the difference. But there was something there, a raw appeal that drew her in more than his smooth skin, tense jaw, and bottomless eyes. He was like his own planet, foreign and immeasurable. Not quite a man – not like Jerry, or Ma’s boyfriends – but definitely not a boy.

They watched tv in the living room, a cool new show she was obsessed with called Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Shane was sitting stiffly in the ugly brown recliner, Dustin on the floor against the window with his freshly sharpened pencils, and Laney draped across the navy-blue sofa.

She could feel his eyes on her but every time she looked at him, he was steadfastly watching the small tv, gaze straight ahead. He seemed skittish, like he was mentally preparing himself to take off, but as the clock ticked later and later she realized that while he may have found it weird, he also probably found it warm and that might not be so easy to walk away from.

Later, she felt herself being lifted off the couch and groggily tucked her face into his shoulder at the crease of his armpit. Feeling greedy, she snaked her arms up around his neck. She could feel his pulse hammering but he didn’t push her away, and she wished their house were bigger so that it would take longer for him to get to her bedroom, longer that she could hold on to him.

He jostled her weight, holding her awkwardly with one arm – surprisingly strong – and pulled back her blanket, before circling her with both arms again and gently laying her down on the bed. She didn’t want to unlatch her hands, but his cool fingers reached back and gently pried them loose before tucking them in front of her chest and pulling the covers up over her.

He hovered for a minute in the dark.

Get in with me, she thought.

He didn’t answer, but it took him at least forty-five seconds to back away from her and softly shut the door.

She smiled to herself. She never would have guessed breaking her face would be the highlight of her year so far, but she meant what she’d said in the bathroom – he was worth taking a punch for.