22. Adam

22

ADAM

C lutching a box of Kleenex like a life raft, I lay sprawled beneath a tangle of blankets, feeling every inch the pathetic sight I must have presented. The tickle at the back of my throat was a constant reminder, not that I needed one, of the minor cold that had taken up residence in my sinuses.

I heard the door click open and closed with the familiar sound of River’s return. I wanted to greet him at the door, pull him in, and push him against the wall, kissing him senseless. Instead, I was a soggy vegetable with no energy.

“Hey,” River called out as he entered the living room, his voice carrying the soft edges of concern. His eyes found me on the couch, an expression of wry sympathy crossing his face.

“Hey,” I managed, my words muffled by congestion. “Sorry for the biohazard zone.”

River chuckled, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

“Doesn’t look like you’ve got a fever,” he observed, pressing the back of his hand against my forehead. “Probably just a twenty-four-hour thing.”

“Thanks, Dr. Hartley,” I joked weakly, grateful for his lack of hesitation, even in the face of my germy state.

“Always here for you, Adam,” he replied, sincerity threaded through his gentle tone.

I shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position without losing the warmth River brought into the room. The familiar scent of Lusitana clung to him—a mixture of spices and comfort that had come to signify home in my mind.

“Mind if I join your infirmary?” he asked, already sliding closer until his thigh pressed reassuringly against mine.

“Your funeral,” I teased, though the fondness in my voice betrayed my true feelings. River’s willingness to brave the snotty trenches with me was just another piece of evidence in the growing case of how much he meant to me.

He settled in next to me, careful not to jostle me too much as he draped an arm around my shoulders. “I’ll take my chances.”

In silence, we sank into the cushions, the hum of the outside world fading. It was these moments—quiet, unassuming—that made me wonder just how deep my feelings for River ran.

“Thanks for being here,” I whispered after a while.

“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” River murmured, his fingertips absently tracing patterns on the blanket that covered us both.

“Let’s order dinner from that Thai place you love. What sounds good?” River asked, his voice a balm to the racket of sniffles and coughs that had been my symphony since morning.

“Pad See Ew,” I croaked, the mere thought of wide noodles and savory sauce enough to make me forget the relentless tickle in my throat. “And we need Tom Kha Gai. Its magic could probably cure this cold.”

“Ah, the healing powers of coconut soup,” River chuckled, his thumbs deftly navigating the screen on his phone as he placed the order. “I should’ve guessed you’d go for the comfort foods.”

“You remember that time you tried the Evil Jungle Prince curry?” I teased, a smile tugging at my lips despite the persistent stuffiness in my head. “Your face matched your shirt. I wasn’t sure if it was a fashion statement or a cry for help.”

River laughed, the sound rich and warm. “That was nothing compared to your culinary masterpiece during finals week. The ‘Spaghetti a la Adam’—burned to perfection.”

“Hey, that was art. Abstract cuisine.” My defense was halfhearted, but the memory sparked a lightness in my chest.

“All right, food is ordered,” he said, setting his phone aside. “Now we just wait for the magic soup to work its wonders.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, gratitude mingling with a thousand other unspoken emotions.

“Anytime.”

I caught myself gazing at him longer than necessary, lost in the way his laughter softened the lines around his eyes.

“River,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I want to kiss you so bad right now, but I can’t even breathe through my nose.”

His expression shifted, a playful smirk giving way to something more tender, more cautious. “I’d rather remain germ-free, thanks.” He winked, but there was a hesitation in his voice that let me know my confession hadn’t fallen on deaf ears.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, looking away. “Cold meds talking.”

“Don’t apologize,” River said, his voice low, serious. “It’s not the cold meds, Adam. It’s us. This thing between us.”

My heart skipped a beat, my eyes snapping back to his. “Thing?”

“Whatever it is,” he said, shrugging slightly, but his gaze held mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

“Is it weird?” I asked, my insecurities bubbling to the surface.

“Nothing about this is weird,” River reassured me, his hand finding mine beneath the blanket, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s just…new territory. For both of us.”

“New territory.”

“Exactly,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile that made my heart race. “And I think it’s worth exploring.”

“Even with my germs?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Even with your germs,” he confirmed, his thumb brushing against the back of my hand in a gesture that felt like a promise.

“Good,” I said, feeling a resolve settle over me. “Because once I’m better, I plan on taking you up on that.”

River’s smile grew wider, and he leaned back against the couch, pulling me with him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I found comfort in the weight of his arm around my shoulders, the silent conversations we held with our eyes, and the undeniable truth that we were on the brink of something beautiful.

The doorbell’s chime sliced through the comfortable silence, and River was on his feet before my brain could register the sound as the arrival of our Thai feast. He returned with bags that filled the room with the rich, tempting aroma of spices and herbs. My stomach growled in anticipation, echoing louder than my sniffles.

“Here we go, my dear patient,” River announced, setting the spread out on the coffee table. “Feast your eyes and your taste buds on this.”

“God, it looks amazing,” I managed between coughs, sitting up to help him unpack containers of delicious food. The steamy warmth wafting from the dishes seemed almost medicinal, and I breathed it in, hoping for a momentary reprieve from my congestion.

With dinner sorted, River browsed through the streaming service for a movie, settling on a romantic comedy with two male leads.

“Perfect choice,” I approved, my voice rougher than I liked.

“Thought you’d say that.”

As characters flitted across the screen, I found myself watching River, the way his lips quirked at a joke as he chewed the delicious food, or when he stopped with his food mid-air because the main characters almost kissed.

I couldn’t finish all my food, but I already felt so much better having eaten something.

When he finished, River resumed his place on the couch behind me. I closed my eyes, relishing the feel of his arms around me and the warmth of the blanket. If I wasn’t careful, I’d fall asleep on him.

“You know, if I had a superpower,” he said, his breath a warm whisper against my ear, “it’d be to make clothes fold themselves.”

“Because that’s what the world needs,” I retorted, stifling a yawn, “a laundry-themed superhero.”

“Hey, don’t mock the small conveniences,” he shot back, his tone indignant. “Next, you’ll tell me you wouldn’t want a power to never lose your keys again.”

“Touché.”

River’s hand found mine, fingers intertwining naturally.

“Sometimes I think…” his voice trailed off, hesitant.

“Think what?” I asked, turning my head slightly to look at him. His eyes were a soft green in the low light, reflective pools that seemed to hold entire galaxies.

“Never mind. It’s nothing.” His gaze dropped, focusing on where our hands were joined.

“Tell me,” I urged gently, squeezing his hand. “Please.”

He sighed, a sound filled with a lifetime of longing and restraint. “I just… I cherish this. Us. I always have.”

“Me too, River.” The admission came easily because it was the purest truth I knew. In all my past relationships, I’d never felt the kind of peace I did with him, never experienced such a harmonious intermingling of souls.

“Whatever happens,” he began, his voice a steady stream threading through the silence, “I want you to know that this, what we have, whatever it is, means everything to me.”

“River, I—” Emotion swelled in my throat, thickening my words. “It means everything to me too. More than I ever thought.”