Can you turn so you’re not pressed against me?”
“I could,” he said, his voice amused. “But then you would have to lie on top of me.”
My brain said, “NO.” My body went, “Wheee!"
“If you keep wiggling, things might get uncomfortable,” he said into my ear, his voice like a caress. “I’m doing my best, but thinking about baseball only takes you so far.”
I was lying on my side. Darkness surrounded me. A hard arm was wrapped around me. Someone’s body pressed against my back, curled around mine.
“Am I dead?”
“No,” Mad Rogan said. Mad Rogan was spooning me.