“Good, I’m glad.”
“Me too.” We seemed to run out of words, so relegated ourselves to staring until I remembered my dream. My forehead creased. “Pete, how did it go with your meetin’? Are you in trouble? I saw the tickets for Daddy and Andrew. They’re supposed to leave on Monday . . . but I guess they’re not goin’ now on account of my injury.”
Pete looked at me with a guarded expression. “I’m not in any trouble, Kate. Whatever gave you that silly idea? The Academy isn’t a punitive place. We only hope to gain a gifted boy like Andrew because we sincerely believe it’s the right place for him. . . . You’ll soon see all this worry was for nothing,” he finished with a smile that didn’t crinkle his eyes.
Even in my half-drugged daze, the false ring to his tone was unmistakable as a ten-carat cubic zirconia presented at a backyard wedding. My eyes widened. Who was talking just now? A mouthpiece for The Academy? He didn’t sound like Pete . . . at least my Pete. I leaned away from him, repelled as if an alien just inhabited his body.
“In regards to the tickets,” he went on with his ambassador impersonation, “I’m sure we can postpone Andrew’s visit, if you need more time to heal.”
After a moment of soaking up my accusatory stare, Pete rubbed at his forehead as though he had the headache. “How’s the goose egg?” He made to change the mood, picking up the wilted pea bag to inspect my head. “Down to a regulation-size chicken egg now,” he said, smiling winningly at me. “We’re making progress.”
I arched a brow. “Are we?”
“We are,” he affirmed, his eyes conveying a strong telepathic message— one I chose to believe. So I lay back on the pillow, too tired to argue for once.
When I awoke next, it felt like my head was in a vice. And that vice was slowly and steadily tightening. Tortuous. I groaned, feeling the urge to hurl again. “Pete!” He was there immediately, handing me a pill. I needed the help; the pain was awful. Apparently, the painkillers had left the building, and a gang of angry squatters had moved in with their hammers, tearing the membrane of my skull down from the inside. I swallowed it down, wincing from the movement.
“How bad is it?” he asked. “Scale of one to ten?”
I whimpered and threw all my digits at him, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. He handed me another pill. I took it without question. The state I was in, I was thinking the more pills the better.
“I’m sorry, honey—I didn’t wake you up when your meds wore off because I had so much trouble waking you up before. I had to see if you could wake up on your own.”
I had nothing but groans to say to that. My nauseous stomach was battling it out with my brain for dominance over my body. While waiting for the pills to take effect, Pete methodically rubbed my back. I knew I was beginning to feel better when the sensations coming from my back were more pronounced than the throbbing of my head, and when the circles began to feel more sensual than soothing. I drew in a deep, shuttering breath.
“Better?” He brushed some hair back from my temple.
I nodded my head—a good sign. The wonderful, smooth feeling was coming back, the pills sanding down all of life’s rough edges for the moment. I looked up at his spectacular face and noticed he looked like a photocopied version of himself.
“You look tired,” I said, copy-catting him to brush the errant lock from his forehead. My fingers itched to touch his mouth. Instead, I continued reciprocating the good vibes by stroking my hand down the length of his arm.
Pete immediately froze. “What are you doing?”
“The same thing you were doin’ two seconds ago,” I replied.
He removed his arm from my hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I faced him with a face with no shame. “Why ever not?”
He stood up. Abruptly. “Because I don’t.”
His clipped tone wasn’t much of a deterrent to me in my current state. “Name one good reason why.”
He rattled the pills at me. “You’re on narcotics for one.”
I pouted, feeling bereft with him gone from my bed. Had to get him back.
“Don’t leave!” I pleaded as he stepped away. He drew in a breath, debating. “Please . . . I’ll be good. I-I just don’t wanna be alone. Please.” I threw the puppy-dog eyes at him.
Pete’s eyes were unreadable in the dim light, but I heard him sigh and lower himself back down on the edge of my bed, warily, as though he might have to spring up at any moment. My body’s cravings weren’t satisfied. Hmmm. What could I do? I scooched over and threw back the covers—an invitation . . . that backfired. He sprang back to his feet.
“No!” I lurched for him. “Please don’t go . . . I’m about two seconds from fallin’ asleep, and I can’t bear the thought of you sittin’ up in that cold chair all night starin’ at me sleep.”
Pete was undecided, peering down on me as though a scorpion were wrapped in the pink sheets.
“Please, Pete?” I used my best little girl voice. “What’s the harm in that?”
“What’s the harm indeed?” he muttered but he seemed to be caving. After releasing a sharp gust of air, he snapped off the light and crawled into bed . . . Yes!—with his back to me—No!
I was lying on my side (the only way I could with a newly formed speed bump on the back of my head), facing him and thinking: So this is spooning? Satisfied, nope. I wriggled closer.
“What are you up to, young lady?” Pete demanded, in his best grown-up voice.
“Nothin’ . . . just breathin’,” I amended, breathing in his heavenly scent. His body heat radiated out to me, making me aware—I was half naked. So close . . . yet not close enough. Some pent-up frustration streamed from my lungs.
“Goodnight, Kate,” he said sternly.
I was drifting along the lines of sleep and wakefulness and contentment and mutiny for a few more moments. “Pete . . .” I breathed into his back.
“Go to sleep, Kate.”
“Almost there,” I chirped. For some reason, his curtness didn’t bother me. “Just wanna ask you somethin’.”
“What is it?” he grumbled.
“Turn around.”
“Not a good idea.”
“I jus’ wanna see your face,” I said, a little slurry at the edges.
Pete made a big show of sighing before turning around to face me. Our eyes met in the witching light peering through the lace curtains. And as I stargazed into his fathomless eyes, the muscles in his face began to loosen.
“You had a question?” He was trying for annoyed but didn’t quite make it there.
My lips curved. I nodded, my eyes moving to his mouth.
He stiffened and threw back the covers. I countered by yanking him to me. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Kate,” he warned, but he allowed me to pull him back down.
“Not playin’ games,” I said around a loopy smile.
“You have three seconds to ask your question, or I’m leaving.” A heaping dose of resolve was packed into that threat.
“Okay, fine.” I’d finally worked up to his level of annoyance—beginners. He was only acting annoyed. I leaned in closer, staring directly into his eyes. “How old are you, really?”