Chapter 22

22

DES

T he sun-dried tomato and mushroom sauce bubbles away in the pan as I pick up my phone, turning the volume up on the speakers as I swivel my hips. Alex is sitting on the couch with his laptop on his knees frowning at something. My lips curl up as I join in.

" Baby, baby … "

Alex turns his head and eyes me over his glasses. "Are you singing, Des?"

I dance over to him, waving my hands over my head, purring the lyrics as I Iean right into him.

He shakes his head and stares at his screen. "You're a maniac," he says as I carry on singing.

" What is this tune, anyway?" he adds.

Now that, that stops me dancing.

" What? " I say loudly. Is he kidding me? "This is like the breakthrough Justin Bieber hit. Like he was thirteen or something."

"You're a Belieber ?"

"Tsk. People just pretend not to be Bieber fans. I mean, come on." I cock my head as the boy wonder croons. "What's not to love about this?" Swaying my hips, I raise my hands over my head.

Alex moves his laptop from his knee to the couch next to him.

"Have I told you how cute you are?"

I press my hand into my chest. "Alex, don't say stuff like that. You're going to give me a heart attack." And I launch myself on top of him.

"Argh! Des, what the hell?"

Laughing, I roll him onto his back.

"Don't say lovely things to me if you don't want to be jumped on." I kiss his nose.

He sighs, and I take his glasses off and place them on the side table by the couch as his hands come up and stroke my back making me shiver. He's so touchy-feely.

"I love hanging out here. It's so much more peaceful than at home where we're always waiting for some kind of explosion from Dad."

"So why don't you come and live here?"

His eyes widen. "Move in? Des, we've known each other two months. "

I shrug. "I hate to think of anyone in a bad situation where they're not happy. It wouldn't have to be some weighty commitment thing because you're moving in. We could treat it more fluidly than that: you could have Marla's bedroom, make it your own space. You know, in case you're pestered too much in bed by that demanding boyfriend of yours. Just think of it as a stopgap until you find your own place or whatever."

I give him an impish smile, but I'm rambling now. My hands are shaking. I've dived straight into this, but I would like him to view this like a proper invite to move in. It feels like the right thing to do. God, it's way too soon, but I love being impulsive. Seize the day and all that.

Fortunately, Alex laughs. "Are you saying you don't want to sleep with me?"

"Well, that snoring you did the other night was a real problem, actually, now that you mention it."

"My parents would flip. I could just imagine how that conversation would go. ‘Yes, Mom, I'm moving in with my boyfriend, because, you know, I like guys.'"

Unease worms its way through my gut. "You don't have to tell them. I could be some friend from college you're sharing an apartment with."

Alex won't meet my eyes as he chews his cheek. "Yeah," he says quietly.

"Do you ever see yourself telling them?"

He shakes his head. "I don't really want to talk about it, to be honest."

He moves, and I roll off him as he sits up and runs his hands through his hair. My earlier elation is now residing somewhere around my feet, so I head back to the kitchen island, turning the music down and stirring the sauce and chicken in the pan.

"Dinner's almost ready," I say, rolling my shoulders. Shake it off, Des . It's easy for me to sit on the outside of this and tell Alex he should do something: It's much harder for him to do it. "Would you like a glass of wine?" I say as upbeat as I can manage.

Alex sighs and gets up. "I'll get it."

I nod at him. God, this is such a huge mountain to climb.

He comes to stand behind me and wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder and peering down at the food.

"Sorry," he whispers, kissing my neck.

"It's okay. I understand. This is hard for a lot of people."

Why is this conversation so much easier when we're not looking at each other? Alex turns and takes two bowls out of the cupboard, placing them on the counter next to me.

"Every time I think about it, I'm terrified of what they'll say and how my father will react," he says. "Just enjoying this and forgetting that other big problem hovering on the horizon seems so much easier."

Tipping the cooked pasta into the sauce, I say, "I get that. I am the king of avoidance."

He laughs. "You don't strike me as that type."

"I'm flattered you think that, but I was awful with George. I really liked him at first and we had a blast together, so I ignored his sleeping around for the longest time. Even though I had evidence that he was doing it, when he finally admitted it, I was kind of devastated."

Alex squeezes my hip and kisses my cheek. "I'm sorry that happened to you," he says, pulling back. "I promise I'll think about it, okay?" I nod as something inside me eases. "It's going to be a long process for them, I think."

That doesn't sound great, but at least we're talking about it.