Patrochilles

I

He goes to feel my stomach, and I shift away.

"Euhh, no, Achilles. I ate too much."

He pauses, his hand frozen in midair. I don't know whether to be embarrassed or to laugh.

"Just give it a little time to deflate," I hint, smiling. "It feels like there's a huge rock in there."

He turns, facing me. "A huge rock, huh?"

My cheeks flame red. Was that last part a little much? Probably.

But his low chuckle echoes, and he shifts so that our arms are touching. I relax into him, his hairs brushing mine. It tickles slightly.

"Okay," he says, his voice deep but not at all sleepy. "I'll wait until that fig digests. But only until then."

He winks at me, and I roll my eyes. Achilles knows I ate a lot more than a fig, but warmth floods and pools in my stomach anyway.

I shiver and Achilles speaks again. "Plus," he says, nudging me, "you should've saved the figs for me."

He means it as a joke, but then he quirks an eyebrow, confused. "Come to think of it, you don't even like figs ..."

I smile and blow out the lamp.