I knew I should go and find my spot on the couch where I belonged.
But for a moment, I took. Took in her peace. Took in her beauty.
When I couldn’t stand lying beside her any longer, I climbed to the end of her bed, flipped off her TV, and slipped out her door.
Tonight, I refused to sleep. I couldn’t go there. Just for one fucking night, I didn’t want to see. I dug through my bag and pulled out my journal, sat on the couch in the dead silence. I wrote about things I didn’t know but wished I could have.
TEN
Aleena
The next night, moonlight soaked into my otherwise darkened room. Tonight the moon was high, bright, full. I’d gotten home from work to an empty apartment. There was something about a quiet night like this that fueled my imagination and gave me inspiration, even though the product on my page reflected nothing that shone in the sky. My hand swished in quick strokes. The paper felt thick under my skin. I wet my bottom lip, chewed at it a little, then lifted my face to look out my bedroom window again. I didn’t have the best view in the world, just a portion of the parking lot below that was lit by streetlamps, although at least they were dim enough that I could still see a whisper of clouds stretched thin across the sky. I contemplated the sight for a bit, before I turned my consideration back to the sketch pad I had balanced on my lap.
I still didn’t know what to make of it, what to make of him. The last week had left my head swimming. It was like Jared and I were in this constant tug-of-war that neither of us knew how to play, pushing and pulling, attracting and repelling.
Reading him seemed impossible. Sometimes I thought I saw it – him looking at me the way I looked at him – like maybe he wanted to touch me, to experience what I’d feel like under his skin. Because God, there was no way to describe how much I wanted to feel him under mine.
But every time I thought we were making progress, he’d grow cold.
I frowned as I tilted the pad. Realization set in as I shaded in the lines that constantly tugged at the edge of his perfect mouth.
No. It wasn’t coldness in his expression.
It was fear.
At the faint tapping at my door, my head snapped up. The shift in my heart rate was immediate. Blood pumped hard, forcing the acceleration of my pulse.
Steadying my voice, I called softly, “Come in.”
Slowly, the doorknob turned, and the door cracked open a fraction. The face I couldn’t get off my mind peeked through, a halo of light from the hall silhouetting him. The apprehension that had pounded my pulse two seconds before was set at ease with just the hint of his presence.
“Hey,” Jared murmured, blinking as he seemed to adjust to the dim light.
“Hi. What are you up to?” I shifted so I could see him better.
His eyes narrowed as if trying to make out the scene playing out in my room, his attention zeroing in on me sitting cross-legged on my bed with the large sketch pad in my lap.
He dropped his head to the side, and I could see the flicker of a smile twisting at one corner of his lips, this hint of uncertainty holding him back. “I couldn’t sleep… and… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were still awake.”
Flipping my sketch pad closed, I set it aside, cocking my head at him. “And what if I wasn’t? You were just going to wake me up? It is after midnight, you know.”
It was all tease. As if his interruption could ever be one I didn’t welcome. By now that had to be obvious.
I wanted him here.
A self-conscious chuckle rumbled in his throat, and he covered his mouth with his palm, dragging it over the length of his jaw and down his chin. When he dropped his hand, a less than remorseful grin had emerged on his face, and even in the muted light, I could see the mischief in his eyes. “So maybe I was passing down the hall and just happened to hear a little rustling in your room when I put my ear to your door.”
“Really?” I said with all the offended disbelief I could project into my voice. “You were listening at my door?”
He slipped inside and silently shut the door behind him. “What? I’m fucking bored,” he said just over his breath, completely shameless. “Sue me.”
I shook my head. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Jared Holt,” I whispered so he could barely hear. My brow lifted as I sucked in my bottom lip, raking my teeth on it before I set it free, feigned disappointment in the tsk of my tongue. “In some circles, that admission might earn you a reputation.”
He laughed as he started across my room. I didn’t miss the hardness in the sound. “I already have a reputation, Aly.”
My gaze locked on him as he moved toward me. I didn’t even attempt to force myself to look away as he crossed the room.
Any attempt would be in vain.
He’d showered, and his blond hair had darkened to a near brown and was pushed back from his face. Sleep pants sat low on his waist, the strength of his chest covered by a tight black V-neck tee. His story peeked above its neckline, the vestige of a distorted rose rising up at the center of his chest. Under his shirt I knew that rose was in full bloom, the red petals beginning to fall like wilted teardrops. Green and blue tendrils of smoke and vines stretched out in a twisted bough around it, crawling along the exposed portion of his collarbones. My gaze traced the ink down his arms to hands that were fisted as he advanced toward me.
My stomach tightened.
God, part of me wished he weren’t so beautiful. Maybe then I’d have a chance to look away, to guard my heart, to save myself from the need he had built up in me. But with every step he took, it only increased.
I still couldn’t make sense of what had happened last night while I was texting Gabe. Jared’s reaction had come at me so quickly it’d left me blindsided and in a bumbling stupor that had taken a few seconds to pass. I couldn’t tell if he was playing the asshole overprotective brother or the asshole possessive boyfriend.
Either way, it’d been an asshole move.
But just as quickly as his outburst had come, he’d softened, and I had felt a sadness saturate him, so strong it was tangible. It had wrapped us tight, thickening the air. Nothing had ever been harder than that moment when I’d forced myself to lie still and pretend I was interested in the movie when all I wanted to do was roll over so I could see his face, to find something written there that might help me understand what he was feeling. My palms had burned with the need to be pressed to his chest or maybe to his face, and my body had itched to see if maybe he’d hold me the way I longed for him to.
Most of all, I had wanted to tell him. So bad it hurt.
But instead I’d forced myself to pretend to be asleep.
Now I scooted farther back against the headboard to make room for him.