I feel beyond alone right now, like I’m back in that cell, only it’s worse because there is someone for me to talk too now. There is no noise apart from my breathing and too fast heartbeat. I remain in the bed, the quilt tucked up to my cheeks, trying to let go of the irrational fear of being alone.
I shouldn’t care. Not really. It’s not Roman’s job to keep me company, so his words, though cold, aren’t false. I should be glad I’m here now, in this nice house, in a comfortable bed, instead of on the cot in the cell. All of this could’ve ended in a much worse way than me simply being alone, but it’s not enough for me.
I try to calm myself. I try to tell myself to just forget about the things plaguing my mind, but I can’t. The emptiness of the room threatens to swallow me whole, and I just can’t take it anymore. My mind is my worst enemy, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to escape it. I lay on the bed, watching as the room grows darker and darker.
Each passing second makes it harder and harder to breathe. I feel like I’m suffocating, and I don’t understand why. I was alone in that cell for days without caring, but being alone inside this room terrifies me.
Refusing to stay another second, I get up and tiptoe to the door. I open it quietly and stick my head out into the dimly lit hallway. I look left, then right. Roman isn’t anywhere in sight, so I step out into the hall and dart to the door across from mine.
My heart speeds up inside my chest. It pounds against my ribcage painfully. My hands shake as I raise one and knock on the door. Worry fills my gut when no one answers.
The thought of him leaving me here alone in this house consumes me, shaking my body to the core with fear. Before I can stop myself, my hand is on the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open. My eyes widen at my actions, and I take in the room before me.
The complete darkness is broken up by the hallway light now spilling into the room. I close the door behind me, and my feet move on their own, carrying me farther into the bedroom—Roman’s bedroom.
This is a bad idea. I should turn around right now and run back into my room. But…I can’t. My body craves this man’s presence, like an invisible force is pulling me toward him.
My feet move very slowly until I reach his bed. It’s easy to tell that he’s in it because I can make out his form beneath the sheets, the moon letting a sliver of light in through the window across the room. I run my fingers against the silky sheets as my gaze roams over Roman’s body. He has a blanket pulled up to his chin, covering his muscular chest.
His face is relaxed, making him look younger. I don't know how old he is, but right now, he doesn't look much older than me. I have this foolish urge to trace the contours of his face, to feel his skin beneath my touch. His lips are slightly parted, and I imagine myself kissing him…tasting him. I have no idea where this is coming from. I’ve never had these kinds of thoughts about a man before. Sex, attraction—it’s all a foreign concept to me.
The closer I get to him, the more at ease I feel. For a moment, I stand there, unsure of what I should do next. Do I wake him? I nibble on my bottom lip. He looks so peaceful...and would probably just send me back to my room—the last place I want to be right now.
I yawn. All I want to do is sleep. I eye the bed, contemplating the repercussions of sleeping beside him. What’s the worst that could happen?
Pushing the fear down, I quietly and carefully crawl into the bed, settling beside him. His scent washes over me, and a calmness encompasses my body. I curl up into a tiny ball on top of the blanket, pulling only a corner of the blanket over me. As soon as I relax into the mattress, I start to drift off to sleep, and for once, I don’t feel so alone.
25
Roman
I know something is off before I even open my eyes. My bed feels different, my blanket doesn’t smell the same—it’s as if the room has been tainted by something. I open my eyes and swing my gaze around the room. My hands curl into the bedsheets, and I can’t shake the strange feeling that something is off. I’m seconds away from throwing the covers back and getting out of bed when my ears perk up at a noise—a tiny whimper. A feminine one, which can’t be right. I didn’t have anyone here with me last night, anyone but…
I twist my body toward the noise. There, right beside me, lies Sophie, asleep, curled up in a tiny ball, in my bed, on top of the blankets. Her dark brown hair is draped over her face, and her chest rises and falls gently beneath my shirt, which swallows her entire body. As the shock seeps away, anger starts to take root. I told her I wasn’t her fucking babysitter, that I wasn’t going to stay with her and coddle her, but she snuck in here and did it anyway.
What the fuck is she thinking?
Did she try to wake me up? The fucking Adderall I take is great for keeping me awake during the day, but a fucking drag for putting me in a coma once I’m out. I’m not sure how I should feel about her sneaking in here. Part of me wants to throttle her, and…well, the other wants to protect her, pull her into my chest, and tell her no one will ever hurt her again.
Anger rushes to the surface at the mere thought of being anything more than a fucking landlord for this girl. She’s clearly not capable of fucking, and that’s all I’m good for. I can’t be thinking about protecting her or holding her in my arms.
I grit my teeth and force myself out of the bed. Blood pumps through my veins, my heart beating faster and faster as I stare long and hard at the sleeping girl in my bed. I know what I have to do next, and for some stupid fucking reason, I don’t like it. It should be easy for me to wake her up, yell at her, and send her back to her room, but something tells me it won’t be that easy.
I scrub a hand down my face in frustration, cursing my brother for giving her to me and making her my responsibility. I hope he finds someone else to pawn her off to—and fast. My patience for bullshit has surpassed. Then again, the mere thought of her going somewhere else doesn’t sit well with me, and that just makes me angrier.
Her being here is fucking with my head, my emotions, and my fucking life. I feel so fucking irritated, I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I decide to take a cold shower to calm the storm raging inside me.
I stomp into the bathroom and slam the door closed behind me before I strip out of my boxers. Before I do anything else, I open the medicine cabinet and get out my pill bottle. Taking two Adderall out, I pop them in my mouth and swallow them with some water from the tap.
I turn the shower on cold and step under the spray, letting the stark drop in temperature shock my nervous system. I clench my jaw as the cold water slaps against my skin. It’s like razor blades gliding across my flesh. Once my body reaches the point of shaking, I turn the water to warm, letting the heat soothe away the tension.
After my shower, I dry off and brush my teeth before heading back into the bedroom. I don’t wrap a towel around my waist on purpose. By now, she’s either come to her senses and left my room or she’s about to get a show.
I open the door and find her sitting on my bed. Show it is. The moment she sees me stroll in, her big blue eyes go wide and her whole body visibly stiffens. Her gaze automatically drops to my dick, and her soft white cheeks turn a bright pink. As soon as she knows I’ve spotted her, she looks away, keeping her eyes trained on some invisible spot on the floor.