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Even though Paul is spending more and more time at the Anchorage with Jillie, his apartment still feels lived in, neat and ordered. He opens the door and, as soon as they're through it, he's stepping in, pressing a hungry kiss to Jillie's mouth, his hands finding the bare skin at her waist.

"Once is never going to be enough," he murmurs, pressing his body as close to hers as he can.

Hanging out has become a habit. Most evenings, now, if he doesn't have to work, Paul finds himself drifting out to the Anchorage to spend time with Jillie. They cook, play card games, watch a lot of movies. Paul finds himself at his most peaceful when he's with her, whatever this is, whatever they're doing. He doesn't examine it too loosely, even while he's thinking about it all the time. They touch a lot, but they still haven't even kissed.

He shifts, his arm brushing against hers, and he turns to look at her profile, at Jack's profile, while she's looking away from him.

Jack, as it turns out, is a little taller than Paul, so the soft cotton pajama bottoms that he loans are a little too big, baggy and comfortable. He's borrowed a t-shirt, too, a hoodie so, when he comes back to Jillie in the kitchen, he's swaddled in warm layers. He stands there, pushes his hair back from his face and gives her a rueful look.

"I feel like a little boy."

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Paul Schafer

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July 2017

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