walked away, humming to himself, and I heard him clattering around in his kitchenette, though I didn’t have the energy to look up. Instead, I just peered curiously at the parts of his studio apartment I could see: the coffee table in front of me, the big, well-worn armchair, the art crowding the walls, and the tall, stuffed bookshelves. Really, there were books everywhere: face-down on the coffee table, dog-eared in the chair, even stacked on the floor next to the bookshelves.
Then Nix appeared in the living room again, with a bottle of water, a plate, and a pill bottle in hand.
“Here,” he said, setting all three down. He’d made toast, with a thin smear of peanut butter, and the bottle was low-dose ibuprofen. “Eat tonight and you’ll feel better tomorrow.”
“You read?” I blurted out, as he’d set the plate down on a faded C.S. Lewis novel.
Nix arched one eyebrow curiously. The gesture almost made me snort a surprised laugh—it was expressive and handsome, especially behind the round frames of his small glasses. “You don’t have to sound so shocked.”
I winced and shifted a little on the couch, propping myself up against the arm of the couch. “I just didn’t know you were a big reader.”
“Well,” Nix said, “you don’t really know anything about me.”
His tone was oddly warm, but it was matter-of-fact. And I hated that he was right—why did that annoy me so much? There was no reason for me to be interested in getting to know him at all. Just a fling—barely a fling. He was just a one-night stand. I didn’t care about getting to know my flings beyond what it took to get a good roll in the hay.
But Nix’s apartment was just so… him. It was warm, and comforting, and the couch was so soft beneath me, and the booze was making my brain-to-mouth filter shut down. But I still didn’t know why I was so curious. Maybe it was because he’d brought me food. That was not a thing people usually did—let alone past flings.
“I don’t know a whole lot of people who have so many books they use them as coasters,” I said.
“Eat,” Nix said. He dropped into the armchair across the coffee table, watching me curiously. “That book?” He nodded at the copy of The Chronicles of Narnia under my plate. “I’ve got like four copies, it’s not a big deal.”
I dutifully took a bite of the toast. Initially my stomach turned again, but as soon as I had a few bites, I started to feel a little better. A little more clear-headed and settled. “Four copies?”
“Well, I’ll misplace it, then want to reread it, so I’ll end up at a used bookstore to pick up a copy, and then I’ll inevitably find the one I misplaced a few days later,” Nix said with a laugh. “I don’t know why, though. I’ve read it so many times I could basically recite it at this point.”
“You’ve read it that many times?” I asked. I couldn’t think of the last book I’d read more than once. Hell, I could hardly remember the last time I’d read for pleasure at all.
Nix grinned a little sheepishly. “Sure. It’s a comfort novel. Sometimes I’ll just open it to a random part and read a few paragraphs when I’m tired, or anxious. It’s like meeting old friends.” He glanced at his bookshelf. “I’ve got a few books like that.”
I kept munching the toast and drank half the water.
“Take some ibuprofen, too,” Nix said, nodding at the pill bottle. “Thought I had some electrolyte powder, but no dice. That’s the real key to beating a hangover before it starts. This should help a lot, though.”
I took the pills. “You sure know all the tricks,” I muttered.
“I’m in a motorcycle club,” Nix said with a laugh. “Comes with the territory.”
So maybe I was just another drunk asshole on a long list of drunk assholes Nix had dealt with at Ballast. But if that was the case, why was he such a calm, steadying presence to be around? Shouldn’t he be annoyed? And he was doing me a favor, taking care of me instead of letting me crash in my truck in the parking lot of Ballast. I’d sure as hell feel better tomorrow than I would’ve if I’d passed out in my back seat.
Nix thumbed through one of his books idly, keeping one eye on me as I finished the toast. It was more than a little embarrassing, though,