CHAPTER 3
Harry had told Adam the truth: it had been years since anyone had hugged him. He remembered being hugged as a kid, but as he grew up, his family had started giving him space, as it was custom. Back home, hugging was considered an invasion of one’s privacy, since physical touch increased the chance of telepathic transference.
Harry must have forgotten how good it felt, because it quickly became Harry’s favorite thing in the world. He was a little embarrassed by how much he wanted it, but Adam didn’t seem to mind that Harry was constantly all over his personal space, wanting to be hugged and cuddled. At first, hugging had been just a substitute for the glaring absence of his telepathic links to his family and bondmate, but by this point, Harry was afraid he was more than a little addicted to it.
Adam was an amazing hugger. Harry felt warm, cherished, and adored every time Adam’s strong body surrounded his own. It was amazing, really, how a simple hug could make him feel so much better, putting a spring in Harry’s step for most of the day. The only downside was, Harry had had to work hard on strengthening his mental shields, careful not to read Adam’s mind without his permission. Harry was no saint. He’d always been naturally curious, and he was really, really curious about what Adam thought of him, but he didn’t want to exploit his telepathy. It felt dishonest. Adam didn’t deserve that.
“Is your boyfriend coming today?” Samantha said, tearing him away from his thoughts.
Harry looked at her with a small frown. “What?”
Samantha grinned. “Come on, Haz, don’t play coy. I’m not stupid!”
“I don’t understand,” Harry said slowly. “What are you talking about?”
Samantha rolled her eyes. “Tall, dark and handsome, comes here every day like clockwork? Gives you obscenely big tips? Ring any bells?”
Harry laughed. “Adam? Don’t be silly, he’s not my boyfriend! He’s a friend.”
Samantha stared at him. “Are you pulling my leg?”
Harry swallowed his confusion—he didn’t understand what pulling Samantha’s leg had to do with the conversation, but the context was pretty clear, so he didn’t ask—and said, “No, I’m not. I’m serious. Adam’s my best friend. I have a—fiancée back home.” Not to mention that Calluvians didn’t have boyfriends or girlfriends. They had bondmates, and Adam obviously wasn’t his.
Samantha looked at him oddly. “Harry, you sit in his lap when there are no other customers,” she intoned.
Harry’s frown deepened. “So?” he said defensively. “I like it and Adam doesn’t mind!”
Samantha’s expression turned skeptical. “Look, I’m all for men expressing their emotions and being comfortable with physical touch—it’s the twenty-first century—but you have to admit it looks pretty strange when you sit in his lap for half an hour and cling to him like a baby koala.”
Harry pursed his lips, starting to get upset. “Are you implying it’s not normal for friends in this country?”
“It really isn’t,” Samantha said with a pinched look. “I’m sorry, but how can you be so socially inept, Haz?”
Harry looked down, picking at a brownie on the plate in front of him. He hated feeling so stupid and socially awkward. He had friends back home and he certainly didn’t hug them— adults didn’t hug each other on Calluvia—but he thought it was normal for humans. Adam was his only friend here. How was he supposed to know their friendship was strange by human standards? Why hadn’t Adam told him that Harry was behaving weirdly and was being too clingy for a friend? Harry knew Adam had a soft spot for him, but surely that wouldn’t stop him from telling Harry to be less of a weird idiot?
“I didn’t know,” Harry muttered, his mood ruined. He had been so looking forward to the end of his shift—Adam usually showed up around that time, too—and now he kind of dreaded it, horribly embarrassed.
Why didn’t Adam tell him?
The question bothered him for the rest of his shift.
When he heard the chime of the bell as his shift neared its end, Harry didn’t need to turn around to know it was Adam. He knew, somehow.
Harry took a few deep breaths, trying to fight the feeling of mortification and failing.
“Hey, babe,” Adam said.
Reluctantly, Harry turned around.
The easy smile on Adam’s lips faded. “All right, Haz?”
Normally, at this point, Harry would approach him, put his head on Adam’s shoulder and lean against him, silently asking for a hug. Adam would oblige, securing his arms around Harry, and they would talk for a while, discussing their respective days, or just chat about everything and nothing. Harry hadn’t realized how weird it was—or how much he wanted it until he couldn’t do it anymore.
“Why didn’t you tell me I was being a terrible friend?” Harry said.
Adam’s expression didn’t change. “What?”
“Samantha told me friends don’t hug so much,” Harry said, lowering his gaze to the counter. “That I’m too clingy.”
Silence.
Then Adam rounded the counter and tipped Harry’s face up with his fingers. “Hey, don’t be silly. You’re not a terrible friend. I’m more than happy to hug you if that’s what you want.”
Harry’s stomach dropped. “But what about what you want?”
A strange look flickered over Adam’s face. “I happen to enjoy hugging.” He chuckled, his teeth flashing. “Did you really think I was just putting up with it? I have too little patience for that.”
“But you don’t hug Jake at all and he’s your friend, too,” Harry pointed out, suddenly realizing that he’d never seen Adam hug Jake.
Adam raised his eyebrows. “How do you know? Maybe we cuddle all the time when you don’t see us.”
An unfamiliar, unpleasant feeling settled low in Harry’s stomach. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t like it. “Do you?” he said, trying not to think of Jake wrapped in Adam’s arms. It felt wrong, somehow.
Adam snorted. “No. Jake would think I’m mad if I tried to snuggle him up.”
Good. He didn’t want Adam to hold anyone but him.
“See?” Harry said, confused by his own thoughts. Where was this proprietary feeling coming from? He’d always been good at sharing.
Adam gave him a long, unreadable look. “Harry, if you want me to stop hugging you, just say it.”
“No,” Harry said, grabbing Adam’s tie and playing with it nervously. “Please don’t stop—but as long as you want it, too.”
Adam smiled at him—that soft, slightly crooked smile that he seemed to reserve just for Harry—and said, “I do.”
Harry smiled a little and, looping his arms around Adam’s neck, leaned his cheek against Adam’s shoulder. He sighed happily when Adam’s hard, muscular arms wrapped tightly around him, making him feel warm, safe, and so so good. It was such an addictive feeling.
Harry loosened Adam’s tie, unbuttoned the top button of Adam’s shirt and tucked his face against Adam’s throat, taking deep, greedy breaths. He loved Adam’s scent so much. He wished he could bottle it up and put it on his pillow so he could sleep better. He hummed in pleasure when Adam’s strong fingers massaged his nape and his shoulder blades—they ached a little after his long shift. Sometimes he thought Adam was a telepath, too. Adam always seemed to know what he needed.
“Are you free?” Harry mumbled, nuzzling at Adam’s throat with his eyes closed. “Movie night? Want?” It was a little embarrassing how incoherent he got when they snuggled. Adam seemed to find it amusing and had told Harry he was just touch-starved. Harry wasn’t that sure about it, but either way, it was embarrassing.
Adam sighed. “Sorry, Haz, can’t.”
“Why not?” Harry said, his dreams of spending a blissful couple of hours snuggled up against Adam shattering into a thousand pieces.
“Got a date tonight,” Adam said.
Harry opened his eyes. “A date?” he repeated. “With whom?”
“Someone I met through work,” Adam said, letting his arms fall and stepping away from Harry. “I need to go home and change now or I’ll be late, actually.”
“Oh,” Harry said, suddenly feeling cold. “Don’t let me keep you.”
“See you tomorrow,” Adam said, brushing his lips against Harry’s temple. “Bye, babe.”
“Bye,” Harry said without his usual cheer. He didn’t understand why his mood plummeted.
He returned to his flat an hour later and sat down in front of the TV. Harry normally loved it—he found human technology charmingly old-fashioned if at times frustrating—but this night he couldn’t quite summon interest for anything on the TV.
Sighing, Harry went to the kitchen and got some ice cream out of the freezer. Adam had implied that humans ate ice cream when they felt down and it supposedly helped. Harry grabbed a spoon too, returned to the couch, and dug in.
Half an hour later, the ice cream was gone, but Harry didn’t feel particularly better, just uncomfortably full. Either ice cream worked only on humans, or he had misunderstood Adam. The latter still happened quite often.
Harry picked up the remote and started channel surfing. But nothing could hold his interest, and after an hour, he gave up and decided to go to sleep. He didn’t feel like eating, still full from the ice cream.
The couch felt more uncomfortable than usual, creaking every time he shifted.
Harry wondered whether he should find another, better-paying job so he could afford a better flat, but he loved the coffee shop. Besides, Adam’s office was next to the coffee shop.
The thought of Adam made Harry’s stomach churn uncomfortably and he forced himself to change the direction of his thoughts.
Harry thought of home, of his parents and siblings. He’d been on Earth months already. Without Adam’s presence, Harry couldn’t ignore the loud silence at the back of his mind. He hadn’t known silence could be so loud. Now he understood why his parents had chosen such a distant planet to send him to: there was no doubt that they wanted him to start appreciating his familial links instead of using them to satisfy his curiosity. People tended to take things for granted and value them more after losing them. Being alone in his head was so unsettling. When Adam was with him, it was so much better.
Sighing, Harry flopped onto his stomach. He was terrible at not thinking about Adam. Maybe he should make more friends. The problem was, it turned out Harry wasn’t very good at making human friends. Humans seemed to like him, but they also seemed to find him too odd and socially inept. Harry often either didn’t get human jokes or laughed at inappropriate times, offending the other person. Only Adam seemed to find his social awkwardness endearing rather than offending.
“That’s a whole minute I didn’t think about Adam,” Harry said with another sigh. He really was terribly clingy, wasn’t he?
A sudden burst of music startled him. It took Harry a moment to realize it was his mobile phone. Harry reached out and grabbed it from the coffee table.
“Hey,” Harry said, beaming into the darkness. He didn’t need to see Caller’s ID; there was only one person it could be.
“Hey, babe,” Adam said. His voice sounded a little strange. “How are you doing?”
“Lots better now that you called,” Harry said.
Adam chuckled softly. “God, you really don’t have a coy bone in your body, do you?”
Harry furrowed his brows. He didn’t understand why his tendency to tell what he thought was so unusual. He believed communication was key in all relationships.
“You keep saying it like it’s a bad thing,” Harry said.
“Not bad at all.” Did Adam sound fond? “You’re a dying breed, Haz.”
His words were a little slurred.
Harry scrunched up his nose. “Are you drunk?”
“Just a little tipsy,” Adam admitted.
“Aren’t you on a date?” Harry said. He was hardly an expert on dating, but even he knew it wasn’t appropriate to get drunk on a date.
“I’m just tipsy,” Adam insisted. Harry wasn’t sure he believed him. Adam’s voice had never sounded like that: slow and ponderous.
“Anyway, he’s boring,” Adam said. “He talks boring. He looks boring. His eyes are boring, too.”
Harry bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. Adam’s slurred, drawling speech was so funny!
“Are you still on a date?”
“Yeah, but I’m in a restroom now,” Adam said. “Wanted to call you, hear your voice. Anyone told you your voice is like a melody?”
Harry smiled. He had known his voice sounded melodic to human ears—Calluvian vocal cords were different. “Yes, but that’s still really sweet of you to say.”
Adam laughed, the sound a little hollow. “Sweet? Not really. You’re the sweet one. So sweet I could eat you.”
Harry’s broke into giggles. “You really are drunk, not tipsy.”
“Nah,” Adam said. “I would say far worse stuff if I were drunk.”
“Don’t you have to return to your date?” Harry said. Not that he wanted Adam to, but after his conversation with Samantha he was determined to be a better friend.
“I guess I should,” Adam said. He didn’t sound all that excited by the prospect.
“Wanna come to my place?” Harry blurted out before he could stop himself. It was official: he was a horrible friend. “We can watch a movie together.” And cuddle.
There was silence on the line.
Then Adam said, “Fuck it. I’ll be there in half an hour.”
Harry grinned.
When the doorbell rang half an hour later, Harry opened the door and hugged Adam tightly. He couldn’t help it. Despite his resolve not to be clingy, he felt…needy. He couldn’t explain or rationalize it.
“How was your date?” he said belatedly. “Was it really that bad?”
Adam sighed, his breath brushing against Harry’s cheek. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. His voice was no longer as slurred as it had been on the phone—the fresh air must have helped—but it was obvious he wasn’t entirely sober.
Harry considered arguing before he realized he didn’t really want to talk about Adam’s date, either. “Samantha lent me the original series of Star Trek,” Harry said instead, linking their hands and pulling Adam to the couch. “We should watch it! The special effects are hilarious!”
They did. They fell asleep on the couch during the third episode.
When Harry opened his eyes the next morning, he was greeted by the sight of Adam’s sleeping face. They must have moved in their sleep, because Harry was sprawled on top of Adam now, their faces inches apart.
A sudden desire to do something confused Harry. He didn’t understand what exactly he wanted. He just knew that he liked looking at Adam—and that it wasn’t enough.
Hesitantly, Harry lifted his hand and stroked Adam’s chiseled jaw. The dark stubble scratched his palm. It felt strange. Not bad, though. A sudden image flashed in his mind: Adam’s stubble scratching the sensitive skin of Harry’s belly. Harry’s stomach clenched.
“Haz?”
Harry snapped his eyes upward and smiled faintly when he saw that Adam was watching him with sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes. He was lucky Adam wasn’t a telepath and couldn’t know what a weird thought Harry had just had.
“Get off me, Haz,” Adam said, his voice rough.
Frowning, Harry rolled off him and looked at him with concern. “Are you hungover? Does your head feel like splitting?” That was how a hangover was described in the book Harry had read a few days ago.
“No,” Adam said, closing his eyes. Despite his words, he sounded pained. “Just give me a minute.”
Shaking his head, Harry headed to the bathroom, bewildered.
He’d never understand humans.