“You okay?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah, fine. It’s just a little tight right now. The volume of my stump changes throughout the day. I can change the sock I wear underneath to help, but I didn’t get a chance. Might as well wait for bed now.”
I haven’t seen Bo without his prosthesis on yet. I’ve wondered, since a quick google search told me that it was good to go without it when possible, to let everything breathe. Especially since he mentioned in passing once that his new prosthesis, resized to fit and suit him better, was coming at the end of March. He called it a belated birthday present.
“You never have to wear it for my benefit, you know. If it’s uncomfortable…”
“No? It won’t freak you out to see me hobbling around the house?” The corner of his lip rises, but his eyes give him away. A hint of hesitation, a twitch of concern.
“Not at all,” I answer. “Of course not,” I add, firmly.
He nods, but he doesn’t move to take it off. “So…” Bo says in that familiar tone of let’s talk about something else. “Sarah seemed to get on board with DND fast.”
“I bet she’s going to say some real unhinged shit in bed tonight,” I say, grimacing.
Bo huffs a laugh, turning sideways to fall backward onto the couch with a grunt, spreading all four limbs across it. I instantly envision myself lying on top of him, the way his body could cocoon around mine so easily, and have to blink to erase it from my mind. “I’d pay good money to hear some Dungeon and Dragons themed dirty talk,” he says with a crooked smile.
“Sarah reads some filthy books—it’ll be creative, if haunting.”
“She did seem to get a kick out of him saving that barkeep,” Bo says, flashing his eyes.
“Oh yeah, she called him a hero.”
Bo laughs, his throat bobbing. “There was a side-quest in October where Caleb had to flirt with a witch to get her to—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Never mind.”
“No, no, no… You have to tell me.” My smile bursts wide. “Please, I need to know.”
“You have to swear to me you won’t tell him I told you or tell Sarah, because there’s a decorum to these things—I can’t be caught talking shit.”
“I promise!” I mean it this time.
“He said…” Bo’s laugh is near uncontrollable, shaking his entire upper body, his hands bouncing as they rest above his abdomen. He tries to complete his sentence a few times, but his voice fails each time as laughter overtakes him.
“Spit it out, man!”
“He looked me dead in the fucking eyes and said the words, ‘not even King Arthur could pull me out of you.’”
“No!” I squeal, my hand shooting up to my mouth.
“Not even King Arthur himself…” Bo says, his face turning red as he struggles to catch his breath.
We both burst into fits of laughter so overwhelming that I truly can’t catch my breath, clutching my stomach and sputtering for relief. The imagery of Bo roleplaying as a witch to be seduced is funny enough, but that line is possibly my new favourite quote. I’ve yet to get a tattoo, but I might consider it. In fact, I might request it as my epitaph. After all, it’ll kill me not to tell Sarah.
I’ll resist.
“Oh my god,” I say, my voice weak as I wipe away tears.
“I didn’t know what to do!” Bo says, waving his hand out to his side as he lies back down. “I rolled for it, and the witch was seduced. So I guess it worked?”
“Caleb gave it his all. I’ll give him that.” I try to take a deep inhale, but the laugh roils back up, taking my breath from me yet again.
“I thought Adamir was going to pass out. Poor thing.”
“I really like your friends,” I say on another long breath, steadying myself. “They seem great. An odd assortment, which I love.”
“Even Walter?” Bo asks. When he sits up to see me, he does a slight double take. His eyes hold on my face with a sincere appreciation that catches me off guard and has me swallowing air. I put two palms on my cheeks, feeling their warmth. Ah, that’s what he’s noticed. I’m blushing.
“Especially Walter,” I answer before clearing my throat. “Or should I call him Hamish?”
“You do that sometimes,” Bo says, touching his cheek with a quick double-tap of his finger.
“Blush?” I look away, because often it gets worse when speaking about it. Or when beautiful men point it out. Both things. “Yeah… most people do,” I say, my voice softened.
“Maybe when they’re embarrassed. But you blush a lot… like when you’re happy too.”
“It’s annoying,” I say, pulling my hair off my neck to cool down.
“I like it,” Bo says simply. I turn my face back toward him. “It feels like checking a box. It’s the only way to know for sure my joke landed, or well, you know…” He swallows, his eyes fluttering closed with a rapid series of blinks.
“Know what?” I ask, tilting my head.
Bo scratches a hand through his hair, then bends forward as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks off to the side, his face disgruntled, as if he can’t believe the words about to come out of his mouth. “You, uh, you blushed on Halloween.”
I did a lot of things on Halloween. My eyes narrow, my smile creeping up sideways.
“When you… came,” he adds, his jaw tight and eyes definitely on my neck, where there’s no doubt a lingering pink hue.
Oh.
“Sorry.” His eyebrows pinch together, creating a deep line down the centre of his forehead. “I don’t know why I said that.”
I’d tell him not to worry about it, as flippantly as I can, but my throat is quite possibly swelling up. All I can feel is the pounding of my pulse in my neck.
“We should go to bed,” Bo says, his eyes raking over me while he leans farther away from me, as if he’s resisting. Telling himself no.
I quirk an eyebrow, wondering if he knows he, perhaps subconsciously, propositioned me.
“Oh, no—not together. Sorry, not—” He drops his face into his hands, then runs them both through his hair, making it stick up funny. “Sorry,” he laughs out. “See? This is why you had to take the lead.”
Was it because of his awkwardness? I’d started to tell myself it was because he wasn’t all that interested. Still, either way, it’s not a good idea. I swallow the lump in my throat. “We, uh, haven’t really talked about that.”
Bo stares blankly back at me, his bottom lip pouted ever so slightly.
Shit, I’m really going to have to say this all out loud. Deep breath. In and out.
“I don’t think it would be wise of us to have any sort of physical relationship from here on out.” There, simple enough.
“No?” Bo says reactively.
No?
Fucking No?
What the fuck does No? mean? Does he disagree? What arrangement did he foresee us having?
“It’s already complicated…” I say slowly.
“Right.”
“And sex would just complicate things more, I think.”
“Right.” He wets his lips, nodding even still.