Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 647(@200wpm)___ 518(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
With my brain suddenly firing on all cylinders, I mimic the noise I just heard.
A grin burns my cheeks when the lights switch off at the command of my hands.
My smile grows when a man too stubborn to go down without a fight even with his belly full of alcohol, switches the lights back on.
I thought Caleb was asleep. Silly me.
My slow strides down the hallway slice in half when my arrival at Caleb’s room has me peering into a pitch-black space. The moonlight beaming through his open window exposes part of his lower back and the sole of his shoes, but the top half of his body and head are sheltered by eerier shadows.
“Caleb?” I murmur, praying like hell he doesn’t suddenly launch into action and scare the shit out of me. The series we were watching is about the dead coming back to life. I can’t handle a surprise attack tonight. “Are you awake?”
When my questions are left unanswered, I force him to interact with me by clapping my hands together twice.
Although I can barely see a thing, there’s no doubt that the whack that springs the lights back into action came from inside Caleb’s room, and it makes me furious. “You know you don’t need to be an ass even with it coming naturally to you lately.”
With his room in the same position as mine, I lean in and flick on the light switch. I’m about to give him the roasting of his life, but my words clog into my throat when they lock on Caleb in the middle of his bed. His head is tucked in close to his knees, and the portion of his back the moon exposed is because of the brutal curve of his back. He looks uncomfortable. Perhaps even in pain.
“Caleb?”
Tears burn his eyes when a pained whimper leaves his mouth at the same time his back arches in the opposite direction of his pelvis.
On instincts, I race to his side. I almost shunt him to wake him, but mercifully, I remember what my father taught me about people who experience adult night terrors.
“You should never wake a man from a nightmare. Gently guide them out of it.”
“Caleb…” Although I am aware touch is one of his biggest phobias, I place my hand on his shoulder before whispering his name again, “Caleb. It’s Jessie. Do you have time to talk?”
His thrashing stops, but the strain on his face remains firm.
After racking my brain for an excuse to wake him so late in the night, I mutter, “I need to use the bathroom, but the light won’t turn on.”
My heart beats in my ears when my words thrust him deeper into his psychosis. He bites on his lower lip firm enough to mark before scrunching the bedding under him with rapid, jarring movements.
“It’s okay. I found out how they work. See.” I whack my hands together twice.
I don’t know whether to praise myself or call myself an idiot when Caleb mimics my clap to turn the bathroom lights back on. He did it without thinking, which exposes his psychosis isn’t as set in as believed.
“Caleb…” I try again before saying something I’m certain will spark a reaction. “You’re an asshole.”
My smile competes with the fluorescent glow coming from the bathroom when he murmurs groggily, “Never denied it, Jessie.” The roughness of his voice could be attributed to the large amount of alcohol he consumed in one afternoon, but I’m going to blame it on the tormented screams he fought hard to hold in during his nightmare.
If I couldn’t see the strain on his face while he’s dragged through the depths of hell, I’d be none the wiser to the torment he just endured. That’s how well he hides it.
Unsure if he’s gone back to sleep or if he’s hiding his face in shame, I trace the outline of a tattoo on his shoulder while whispering, “Why do you hate me?”
A squeak loud enough to wake three blocks rips from my mouth when my wrist is gripped, and I’m pulled onto the mattress. I’m fearful my father’s warnings on waking men amid a nightmare are about to come true when I’m pinned to the sticky sheets by Caleb’s body.
My worry doesn’t linger for long. The strong stench of alcohol leeching from his pores can’t hide the sincerity in his words when he peers down at me and mutters, “I could never hate you, Jessie.” I lean into his embrace when he removes a strand of hair clinging to my cheek before he drags his index finger down my suddenly inflamed cheek. “I just can’t look at you without thinking about him.”
“Who?” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I’m not usually an intrusive type of person. I’m just so desperate to work out what the hell happened to us, I’m using sides of me I am not proud of.