I turn off the water, and grab a towel, only to find out it’s been warmed up by a heated towel rack. Heaven.
Finally feeling clean, I go out, put on some boxers, and jump into the bed and get under the covers, enjoying the silky feeling of the sheets against my skin. I turn the TV on, and the first channel I come to is playing a rerun of Saturday Night Live. Perfect. On the bedside table is a soft gold folder with the room service menu. I flip through it. It’s weird; I’m hungry, but the thought of eating something substantial makes me feel a little sick.
I grab the phone and order a chicken soup and a black forest hot chocolate, because I can’t not try something like that if it’s an option.
I hang up and feel my eyes starting to close.
No.
Come on, Zach, you can do this. Think of the hot chocolate.
Maybe I can just close my eyes for a few minutes, though. That won’t hurt. When the food gets here, the sound of knocking on the door will wake me up, and I’ll have recovered enough energy to make it to a more reasonable time to sleep.
It’s fine.
This is a smart plan.
I tilt my head to the side, and close my eyes.
The next thing I know, I’m wide awake, and it’s three a.m. The lights and TV are still on, my blinds are still wide open, and my mouth tastes vile.
I must’ve been so out of it they gave up on delivering the food. I get out of bed, and go over to the window. This place must have some seriously amazing heating, since the city outside looks rainy and miserable, but I feel toasty. I watch a droplet streak down the window, then pull the blinds shut, then turn the TV and lights off. I’m not that tired, but I can at least try to sleep. I’ll pay for it later if I don’t.
My phone lights up from where I left it on my bedside table. I flop down onto my bed and check it.
It’s a Snapchat message from Ruben.
RUBEN
Can you sleep?
I turn on my front camera, and take a selfie. I know I’m shirtless, but Ruben doesn’t see me like that. After his experiences, he’s the last person who’d let himself go and get feelings for a guy he already knows is straight.
My heart starts thudding at the idea of him seeing me differently, though. Like as just a guy, not his friend. What would he think of me if he didn’t know me, and know I’m straight? Would he think I’m hot, then? And why am I even thinking this?
After editing the photo, I caption it: haha nope. I just woke up.
I send it.
Ruben sees it, and starts typing. Then the bubble disappears. I’ve noticed Ruben does this a lot. It’s like he never trusts his first thought.
A picture comes in. It’s of Ruben in bed, with his eyes crossed and his nose scrunched up.
Another chime.
RUBEN
OH HI YOU’RE UP.
ME
I am!
RUBEN
That means now is a perfect time …
I find myself grinning.
ME
A perfect time for what?
RUBEN
For you to tell me what you thought of In This House. IN DETAIL, Zach.
I laugh. So maybe he isn’t blown away by seeing me shirtless, but this? I like this.
ME
I already told you I loved it?
I hit send, then let my head fall back against my pillow while I wait for a response. I open Instagram and scroll for a second, then I navigate back to Ruben’s messages. There’s no typing bubble yet.
I bring his photo back up. He’s shirtless, but I can only see the top of his bare shoulders, and they’re making my stomach twist. A face flashes into my mind. Lee, from middle school, with the dimple. I used to pull up his profile picture, a photo of him staring intensely at the camera, and study it, searching for the spot where the dimple would be if he smiled. I’d mostly forgotten this feeling, but now, it’s so familiar. Like, scarily familiar.
I exit Ruben’s photo.
My heart’s thudding just a little too fast.
Lee and his dimple didn’t mean anything. Neither does Ruben, at least not like that. Looking at a photo doesn’t mean anything. It’s okay to like looking at a photo of someone you care about. Why do I always have to overthink stuff? Plus, I’m tired, it makes sense that my emotions are off-kilter.
I get a notification, which gives me a jolt, so I go back to my messages.
RUBEN
In what world is ‘loved it’ detailed? What did the songs make you feel? Which were your favorites? What did you think?? GIVE ME SOMETHING.
I smile to myself and start composing my reply. I know I’m supposed to be sleeping, but sleep can wait.
If I’m a little tired tomorrow, is it the end of the world?
FIVE
RUBEN
I’m in Paris, the most beautiful city I’ve ever seen in my life, and all I can focus on is how hungry I am.
We left London at the crack of dawn this morning after shoveling down some toast from the continental buffet, and hopped across to Paris. By the time the signage switched from English to French, I was already dreaming of coffee, and baguettes, and delicate pastries.