Deep End

I’VE BEEN HOME FOR ABOUT AN HOUR, SHOWERING AND UNPACKING and scowling at the chore chart Maryam crafted in my absence, in which all activities are magically listed under my name, when I hear a knock.

Lukas stands tall in the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his jeans, dark circles covering his freckles. Serious and tired and silent.

I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet.

There’s no reason for him to be here.

No reason for me to let him in.

No reason to take his hand and guide him to my bedroom. No reason for any of this, but still I burrow into the curve of his throat, and fall asleep with his scent in my lungs after just a few seconds.