Silence.
“Let me get this straight, Haz,” Samantha said, her tone very dry. “You want him to call you love and baby, and you’re upset that he doesn’t anymore.”
“Babe,” Harry corrected, frowning. “Not baby.”
She gave him a strange look before giving a laugh. “God, you’re so weird, Harry.” But then, she became serious. “You want my advice? Figure out what you feel for him before it’s too late. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t get upset because my best friend doesn’t use endearments on me.”
Harry opened his mouth and closed it.
She was right. It shouldn’t have upset him. No one in his family called him such things and Harry didn’t doubt his family’s love. But it was different with Adam. He loved being Adam’s love and Adam’s babe. He wanted Adam to call him love and babe, which was…probably a weird thing to want from one’s friend.
Harry buried his face in his hands, groaning in a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I don’t understand anything anymore.”
Samantha just laughed.
CHAPTER 7
Samantha’s words were still on his mind as Harry got into Adam’s car after the end of his shift.
“Hey,” Adam said with a neutral smile. He looked tired and less immaculate than usual, his stubble so thick it could almost be called a beard. It would probably be rough to the touch.
Harry looked away, curling his fingers in his lap and resisting the urge to kiss Adam on the cheek. The longer he went without physical contact with Adam, the harder it became to suppress impulses like that.
“Hi!” Harry said, trying to sound cheerful. For Adam’s sake, he had been trying to act like the distance between them didn’t bother him. Harry hoped he was convincing, but he wasn’t sure.
“How was your day?” Adam said, pulling out of the parking lot.
Harry tried not to frown. It should have been “How was your day, love?” with Adam running his fingers through Harry’s hair or stroking his nape as Harry curled into him.
“Good,” Harry replied, rubbing his palms over his thighs. He hated that he couldn’t touch Adam. If Adam’s friendship with Jake was like that, no wonder Jake had been jealous. “How was yours?”
Adam hummed something noncommittal, his eyes on the traffic.
A slightly awkward silence settled between them for the rest of the drive. Harry hated every second of it.
“Can we talk?” Harry said when they arrived home.
Adam shrugged his jacket off and lifted his head. “What?” he said. His face gave nothing away.
Do you hate me now?
Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He lost his nerve. He couldn’t ask it. He was afraid to ask. It was always at the back of his mind that he didn’t even need to ask if he truly wanted to know. He could find out easily enough. He’d never been more scared to use his telepathy in his life.
Harry wet his lips. “Do you want me to move out?” he said haltingly. “I can move out if that’s what you want.”
Adam shook his head stiffly, his shoulders tense as he unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt without looking at Harry. “Don’t be silly, Haz.”
Harry stared at Adam’s half-bare chest. He wished he could bury his face there, breathe in Adam’s scent and stay like that forever.
A strong, unfamiliar feeling washed over him. It felt a little like dizziness but was almost pleasant. Perhaps he had caught some alien bug? Although he had received all the proper shots before leaving his planet, there was always a small chance. He should probably go lie down. Just in case.
Harry muttered that he wasn’t hungry and headed to his room. His stomach dropped when Adam didn’t even try to stop him. Maybe he really should move out.
It was his last thought as Harry fell into a strange, exhausted sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
He dreamed of silence, something stretching and breaking with a snap. Suddenly, he was burning from the inside out, feeling thirsty and hungry and oversensitive—
Harry woke up with a start, his breathing heavy and unsteady, his heart racing with agitation.
He sat up, unsure what he’d been dreaming about. He breathed in and out, trying to calm down.
But he couldn’t. There was something wrong. There was something wrong with him. He felt off, unstable, his control over his telepathy shattered to pieces. He could feel faint echoes of other people’s thoughts. One floor down, a woman was angry at her husband for watching football and not paying her attention, and her husband was wondering when she would fall asleep so that he could sneak out to meet another woman.
Harry took a deep breath, trying to take control of his telepathy. He supposed he should be grateful that it was night and there weren’t many people awake. Sleeping people didn’t give off clear thoughts, just a background buzz he could ignore more easily.