“Made a lot of blanket forts in my time,” he said. He turned to smile at me. “I was an only child in the smallest Mexican family in Chicago. Needed somewhere to play my Game Boy and feel like I was on an adventure, you know?”
I laughed, imagining the Ricky I’d seen from his middle school photo holed up in an elaborate fort, playing Pokémon and humming along to the gym themes.
“And it was a good place to retreat when I was upset,” he added, just a bit more solemnly. He straightened and turned to look at me. “I’m sorry about Nia. I know how important she is to you. If it gives you any solace, even Shae doesn’t really get what’s going on. I don’t think . . .” He sighed, pushing his hair back. “We don’t think this is just about you. Shae says she’ll probably come around.”
The knot in the center of my chest, which had loosened over the last several minutes of fort building, tightened again.
“What if she doesn’t?” I said quietly. My vision blurred with tears, and I blinked them back. “What if this is it?”
When I looked back up again, Ricky was right in front of me, squinting down at me with dark, bottomless eyes. Suddenly, the room felt small. Gently, he cupped my face in his hand. His thumb stroked, very lightly, over my cheekbone, and I took a sharp intake of breath, feeling a frisson of anxiety shuttle down my body like a lightning bolt. Rooted in place, I looked up at his face in search of an explanation and found nothing but tenderness.
“Then, Angie,” Ricky said softly, “you find a way to move on.”
Then he swept into the kitchen, asking me whether I wanted any popcorn.
Fuck. I clutched the back of the couch, not entirely convinced that my legs were fit to hold me up. I was so sure that I could do this. So certain that I could be cool, that I would withstand being in his vicinity without feeling like I was on fire. But just then, there’d been something in Ricky’s eyes that had set them smoldering, and I felt that heat down in the pit of my belly. It was so different from the blank look he’d given me after I kissed him at King Spa, and it scared me more.
“Do you want kettle corn or butter?” Ricky called from the kitchen, like he hadn’t just almost stopped my heart. “I’ve got both.”
“Butter,” I said, proud that my voice didn’t waver. I sat on our blanket fort floor, leaning against the couch and closing my eyes. I listened to Ricky root around his cupboards, then tear open a package of microwavable popcorn.
“Want to pick something to watch?” Ricky said from the kitchen.
“What were you watching before I decided to impose on you?” I asked.
“You didn’t impose,” Ricky said, dropping to the floor next to me. He gave me a shy smile. “I’m really glad you’re here, actually.”
I ignored the buzzing in my ears and accepted the remote when he handed it to me, scrolling to Netflix.
“You heard of One Punch Man?” he asked.
I nodded. I’d fallen off the weeaboo train in college, but Ricky had clearly been riding it since Dragon Ball Z.* Still, Markus kept me abreast of the shows of the moment.
“Yeah,” I said. “It looks very stupid.”
“It is,” Ricky admitted. “But it’s also very funny. I’m down to start from the beginning, if you’re interested.”
“I’m down,” I said. The microwave beeped, and Ricky jumped to his feet to retrieve our popcorn as I searched for the show.
“Can you get the canopy up?” he asked, tearing open the bag.
I stood, picking a sheet and throwing it over our arranged chairs, then securing the corners by placing Ricky’s selection of books on top of each chair. The blanket fort was complete. I stepped back to admire our handiwork, my heart fluttering in my throat. It was a small space, cozy. As a kid, blanket forts had seemed like such innocent fun. As an adult, though, it felt like I was crawling into a trap.
The room dimmed; Ricky had turned off the kitchen light. Ricky himself emerged a minute later, a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a flickering electric candle in the other. Mood lighting? I almost teased, but then bit my tongue—because what would I do if he said yes? Instead, I watched him bend to enter the fort, settling into a pillow seat next to me. He dragged a couple of blankets off the couch and tossed one to me wordlessly, and I nodded in thanks, draping it over my shoulders.
“Want to start?” Ricky asked after a few seconds of silence.
“Yeah,” I said, and hit “play.”