You weren't dating Dodge.

There were no titles, no official rules.

And you weren't living together.

It was your name on the lease.

But he called you baby and left half rent on the counter most months.

He also left his things. Everywhere.

The first time you hooked up, he left a notebook at your place. You made fun of him, but it worked. He was back again two nights later. He left his jacket that time.

Slowly, he stopped taking back what he'd left. You gave him a drawer, then two. He bought coffee maker you really wanted for your birthday. You told him to take it back. He 'forgot' it on the counter.

Now, it's been sixth months. Last week, he told you you know him better than anyone else ever has. Tonight, he had his head in your lap, humming as you play with his hair.

You knew he'd spend the night, especially since he made dinner. He'd wake up with 'somewhere to go', spooked by his own capacity for intimacy. But for now, he was home, and he was yours.