When the alarm rings a second time, Jeremy wakes with a start. He sits up in bed and runs his hands down his face, pulling his cheeks into a long frown. Then he smoothes them back into place and slides his hands over the top of his scalp. The bristles of his hair stand beneath his palms.
“I’m up,” he mutters to no one in particular.
When it’s obvious Blake isn’t going to turn off the alarm, Jeremy reaches over and slaps at the clock.
Knocking it off the bedside table into the half-opened top drawer, dragging his sunglasses and Nintendo DS in after it.
But at least it’s quiet now. Thank God.
Vaguely, Jeremy remembers he wanted to ask Blake if they could stay home. He wonders if his lover is still in the house somewhere—he didn’t notice the time, and now the clock blinks at him dumbly,
