I heave a sigh. This is getting worse and worse. “Because I can?” I squeak out.

He approaches me slowly. “The truth, Faith,” he says. “Were you hoping to show me the light? To save my wretched soul?”

“Honestly?” I ask. I bite my lower lip and he watches my mouth closely, and licks his.

“No, lie to me,” he jokes. But he’s serious.

“I just wanted to make you smile,” I say. “That’s all.” My voice cracks. “Do you want me to leave?”

He holds up three fingers. “Three things,” he says. He shows me one finger. “One – you can’t try to fix me, okay?”

I nod. I can try to fix him without him knowing, can’t I?

He holds up two fingers. “Two – I am not going to chop off any vital parts of your anatomy.” His eyes slide slowly up and down my body. “I like all your parts exactly like they are. While you’re breathing. It would seriously be a travesty to change one single thing about you.”

“What’s number three?” I squeak.

He holds up three fingers. “Three,” he says. He breathes out a heavy sigh. “I am not going to fall in love with you, no matter what.” He walks slowly toward me. I roll the pocketknife in my hand and he chuckles. He’s smiling, though. “Now, if you’re okay with my list, I’ll see you when I get out of the shower.” He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. He lingers there, taking in a deep breath.

“You’re smelling me again,” I whisper.

His chest rumbles. “I know,” he whispers back. He finally lifts his head and I feel a cool spot on my skin where his kiss was. He goes into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. I sink down on the edge of the bed, because I don’t want to go anywhere else. Nowhere else at all.

I pull my boots off, because they’re wet and dirty. I really should have worn socks that match. One of my socks is neon pink with leopard spots and the other is camouflage. Then I pull my sweatshirt over my head and lay it beside me. I don’t know what to do with myself.

I suppose this is no different than going home with a random stranger, is it? Nope. At least this random stranger met my grandparents and they know I’m with him, so it’s not as though I’m out in the universe alone. I either need to leave or get over it. I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere. I yawn into my fist. And I do want a nap. My eyelids are growing heavier and heavier every minute.

The bathroom door opens and he sticks his head out. His hair is wet and sticking out in all directions. He grins at me, and he looks particularly boyish. “Can you do me a favor?” he asks. He has enough of his chest sticking out that I can see that he’s wearing a T-shirt.

I look around. Did he forget something? “What?” I ask.

“Can you close your eyes?” He grimaces.

“Why?” Okay, that was a stupid question. But now it’s out there.

He frowns. “Just do it, please?”

I cover my eyes with my hands and I hear him hop across the carpet. It’s a steady thump. He took his leg off and he doesn’t want me to see it? I keep my eyes covered until the bed shifts beside me and I feel the covers furrow around me.

“You can open them now,” he says. “It’s rather ungraceful to hop across the carpet,” he rushes to explain.

I hold up a hand. “You can be as ungraceful as you need to. It won’t affect how much I like you.”

“It’s just…” he starts. “I took my prosthesis off for my shower and it’s kind of a pain to put it back on and I’m kind of good at hopping.”

He’s rambling. I think it’s cute. “But not good enough for me to watch you hop.” I grin.

“Definitely not.”

“Maybe on our second date,” I say.

He doesn’t meet my eyes. He tosses the covers back on what I assume is my side. “C’mon,” he says. “Bring your knife.” He laughs.

I get up and close the drapes, leaving nothing more than a crack so a sliver of light steals into the room. I see him put his hands behind his head as he looks at me. “You can’t sleep in jeans,” he says. “You’ll be uncomfortable.”

“You trying to get me naked?” I ask.

“Yep,” he says crisply. “Is it working?”

“Nope,” I reply.

“There are brand new boxers in my bag, if you want to wear them.”

I go to his bag and riffle around until I find an unopened pack of underwear. I take them into the bathroom, slide out of my jeans, and pull them on. I look into the mirror and ask myself, “What am I doing?”

I’m going to take a nap, that’s what I’m going to do.

I walk back into the room and he turns off the bedside lamp, and now it’s finally dark. I slide under the covers and lay on my stomach with my face turned toward him.

“I like you in my boxers,” he whispers.

I do, too, but I don’t say anything.

“You going to sleep way over there?” he asks quietly.

“Yep,” I say.

“You promised you’d snuggle with me,” he says. It’s little more than a breath, but I can hear it.

I wait a pause. “Did I?”

His hand snakes around my waist and he hooks his arm around me, drawing me forward so that he’s lined up behind me like we’re two spoons in a drawer. Like Nan and Granddad were wrapped up in each other earlier. I can feel his thighs behind mine and my bottom is in his lap. “Either you have put your gun in your pocket or you’re happy to see me,” I say when I feel him pressed against my bottom.