Total pages in book: 216
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 826(@250wpm)___ 688(@300wpm)
I’m nineteen. Far too old to be afraid of the dark. Still I haven’t gotten rid of my childhood fairy nightlight.
And while I’d been, you know, I had my eyes squeezed shut tight, so my eyes never got a chance to adjust to the dark. I can only barely make out Dominick’s features.
He comes closer and sits on the edge of the bed. “So are you okay?”
It’s then that I realize I never answered his question.
I nod my head furiously, then realize his body is blocking the light and he might not be able to see me either. “Mmm hmm,” I vocalize. I don’t exactly trust my voice at this point. I clutch my blankets up tighter around my face, but then, oh God, I can smell myself on the hand I was touching myself with. I jerk it back down deep underneath the covers.
Thank God it’s so dark in here. Dominick can’t see the cherry red my cheeks are no doubt turning.
“You sure?” Dominick sounds skeptical.
“Totally sure,” I say.
He sighs and leans back against my headboard.
Why is he still here? He just needs to leave. Leave me to my misery and stupidity and—
“Well to tell the truth, I haven’t been doing so great.”
What? All my obsessive, self-involved thoughts slam to a halt. I sit up and move so that I’m beside him. “What do you mean? What’s going on?”
My eyes are finally adjusting to the light and I can see how pensive he is. He’s changed into a tank top and sleep pants. He bends his legs and leans his elbows on his knees as he stares sightlessly out into my dark room.
Suddenly I’m glad I used the graduation money Grandpa gave me to redecorate, taking down the pink wallpaper I’d had since childhood and more recent high school boyband posters. Now the room is done in cool green and gold tones.
And then I’m immediately ashamed again that I’m worried about what Dominick will think of my room when he’s so obviously distressed.
“You can talk to me, Dom,” I put a hand on his forearm. His muscles tense reflexively at my touch but then relax. He reaches over and covers my hand with his.
“I wasn’t kidding about what I said earlier,” he says, leaning his shoulder into mine. “Everything has been so much better since we moved in here. I feel more…” He pauses like he’s searching for a word. “Grounded.” He nods.
“So what’s bothering you?” I press. I can tell something’s eating at him. Talking to him about stuff has always made me feel better over the past couple months. And I want to be that for him—his sounding board, the person he can come to when he needs to unload.
He looks away from me. “I don’t know if I can talk about it to you.”
My mouth drops open. “You can. I promise. No matter what it is. I won’t judge.” I want him to trust that I can handle it, no matter what it is.
He turns back to me. His hazel eyes are so dark when they’re in the shadows like they are now. They’re the one thing he didn’t get from his dad. Right now, his irises and pupils just dissolve into one another in the dim light. “I’m really tired,” he says. “But I don’t want to leave. Could we… Do you think we could maybe…” he trails off and looks down again.
“What?” I ask. I’ve never seen him like this. So tentative. He’s usually all brash confidence.
“Could I maybe lay down here? I just don’t want to leave yet.” Even in the dim light, I can see how hopeful he looks. And how afraid of rejection.
I can’t believe it. This amazingly strong man, so smart and kind, thinks he could find a little comfort in laying down with me?
“Of course!” I say, scooting over and holding the covers open wide.
If he notices that I’m just wearing a thin-to-the-point-of-sheer spaghetti-strap shirt and white cotton panties, he doesn’t comment.
He moves to lie down beside me and pulls the sheet and comforter over him. I always sleep with two pillows. Usually I put one between my legs, but I give that one to him. No, scratch that. At the last second, I snatch that pillow back and give him mine instead. What if it smelled like…you know.
“Here,” I say, patting the pillow awkwardly as I set it at the top of the bed and then grabbing my leg pillow and settling it under my own head.
Dominick pulls the pillow I gave him under his head and exhales as he settles in. It’s as if I can feel the tension leaving his big body beside me.
Meanwhile, I suddenly become aware of every inch of my own skin.
I’ve never had someone in my bed with me.
Or been in someone’s bed.