“Come on.” Peter takes my hand in his and guides me from the table. “Dinner’s over.”
And then he floats me upwards.
It takes me a few moments to realise he’s taking me to his bedroom.
I’ve never been taken to a boy’s bedroom before—though I did sneak a boy into my dormitory room once,* ? and Jasper England did sort of feel me up in his car once, and then that Welsh boy and I spent a lot of the summer swimming and kissing?—but I’ve never been in a boy’s room before. Though admittedly, Peter’s room is barely Peter’s room. It’s all just one big room, but his nest is rather a bit higher than everyone else’s.
“This is where you will live,” he tells me as he lowers me down into it. “It’s the best spot, which is why it’s mine. It’s still mine, but you can be here too.”
I give him a small smile and a small nod.
He dives into the air and then tumbles onto his nest, shakes his hair so it falls and frames his face perfectly, and then shifts the covers over himself. He peers up at me.
“Are you coming in?” he asks, and his voice has a curious innocence. And it is odd, admittedly. I don’t know how old he is, nineteen, maybe?§ “Older than me” is what he said. It’s strange that a boy older than me doesn’t know a thing about sex, doesn’t know why I might worry about what the nonexistent neighbours might say （if they existed） about us sharing a nest, but the fact that he doesn’t understand why it might be perceived a certain way makes me feel as though anything one might worry about in such a scenario is incredibly unlikely to transpire.
Peter nods his head towards his nest again, inviting me wordlessly now to join him, and against my better judgment, I’m feeling somewhat kicked in the stomach again.
I’ve never slept with a boy before either.
Not in this way and not in the other way either. I actually don’t know how many ways there are to truly sleep with a boy, but be sure of this: I’ve experienced none of them.
And it’s one of those things I’ve thought of—how nice it would be, especially in the winter when it’s cold and you can snuggle up close to them for warmth. But here, the coolest thing is the breeze, and it’s barely there. And I’m sure I’m overthinking things now, but I don’t even know how to casually lie down next to a boy in a bed, let alone a nest.
I swallow nervously and walk over, too distracted for happy thoughts to make me float.
I lie down slowly, next to him, and stare up at the ceiling. Peter’s watching my mouth closely, and then he pokes the top right corner of it.
“These are so hard to catch,” he tells me. “And rare!”
“Yes.” I give him a demure smile. “So I’m told.”
“I’ll catch yours,” he tells me, sure of it.
I cover my kiss with my hand, make sure he didn’t snatch it away while I blinked.
He doesn’t stop watching me still, smiling a tiny bit as he does.
“What?” I frown.
“You look nervous,” he tells me.
I frown more. “And why does that make you smile?”
“I don’t know.” He smiles more. “It just does.”
I lie back next to him, arms folded across my chest, stiff as a board.
He rolls in towards me and leans on his arm, looking down at me. His eyes flicker over my face.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I feel nervous too.”
And I know my cheeks go pink in an obvious way because Peter touches them, and I love feeling his hands on my face like compresses.
“Peter.” I purse my lips and my eyes go wide. “Before, you said that you wouldn’t care to share me like you shared the others.”
He nods.
“Why?” I press.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, settling in on his pillow. “There’s just—” He shrugs again. “I just don’t want to. And I never do anything I don’t want to do.”
Pause.
“Even just thinking about anyone else looking at you makes me want punch everything and keep you just up here where no one can see you.”
I give him a look. “Well, that’s not my favourite plan.”
Peter looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t sleep in someone else’s hammock, okay?”
I nod once. “Okay.”
He stretches his arms up over his head as he yawns. “Mine’s the best one anyway.”
* * *
* Both human and fae.