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His hands roughed up the brown hair at the crown of his head. “You can't just do that kind of thing.”
“She'll have a hard night tonight but give it a couple of days and—”
Marc launched himself at me. I only managed a half step back before his hands caught my cheeks holding me strongly between his palms. He lowered his head and his mouth met mine.
Instinct took over, and my mouth parted as he kissed me. His lips crushed against me, and he sucked at my lower lip once before diving in for another kiss. I nearly tripped as he pressed me back, but I planted my hands against his chest and leaned against him.
When my mind finally caught up to what I was doing, I found a little strength to break the kiss and step back. His hands released me and I found myself with my butt against the computer desk. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, unable to figure out what to say. I had kissed him to save him some trouble. What was his about? Some weird way of getting back at me?
Marc stared at me. His chest rose and fell harshly. I willed him to say something, but his eyes never wavered and except for his breathing, he didn't move.
“Marc,” I breathed a whisper. This was ludicrous. He didn’t know me at all. I didn't know much about him, either. Why wasn't I yelling at him about it?
Why did I want him to do it again?
His mouth slowly closed and he swallowed. “If you want,” he said, his voice deeper than normal. “You can sleep in my room. I'll take the couch.”
After all that, all he wanted to talk about was where to sleep? “How big's your bed?”
He walked by me, so close that his arm brushed across my body. I curbed the urge to tug him back. I gave it up to being tired. I was just having a weak moment.
He led the way to the third bedroom door. He opened it and stepped aside, presenting it to me.
He had a double bed in his room. It wasn't quite as pressed up against the wall but it was close. There were two pillows stuffed up in the middle and the bed was unmade. There was a pile of clothes in the corner, and a dresser. A bookshelf was clustered with books and boxes and disheveled notebooks. It wasn’t disgusting like I’d seen some boys’ rooms. It was just cluttered like he didn’t have enough room for everything.
I focused on the bed again. “Its wide enough,” I said. “We're both adults. I think we can manage to keep our hands to ourselves. Unless you toss around in your sleep or something.” I don’t know why I offered. I guess even despite what just happened, I didn’t want to sleep on the couch, and I felt too awkward to sleep on the bed knowing he’d be on the couch.
“Right,” he said. He turned. “I'm going to go tell the guys something. Get in bed. I'll be back in a minute.”
He left the room and I hovered for a moment, wondering what door I just opened.
HOW TO ASK A BOY FOR HELP
I was half asleep, curled up on my side in the middle of the bed before I felt Marc nudge me for more space. I flipped over onto my other side until I was facing the wall.
At first just the bed shook as Marc slid in next to me. A moment, or an eon later, he pushed his back up against mine.
“You cold?” he asked.
“Hmm?” I heard him, but I couldn’t answer him as I was really too far asleep. I was cold though and responded by rolling toward his back.
“Yes? No?”
“Hmm.”
“Gotcha.” There was movement and I felt another blanket getting tossed on top of me.
I kept waking up during the night, forgetting where I was for a moment. Each time I did wake enough to recognize where I was, I panicked, and worried about Wil being alone. I worried about why I was there. I stressed over why I was in a bed with a near complete stranger.
For a time, I stared at the ceiling, afraid of what tomorrow would bring.
Sometime while it was still dark, I woke up in a half daze to hear Marc talking.
“What do you need?”
I mumbled.
“Not you,” he said. He nudged my shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”
I twisted onto my back. At first, all I saw was him sitting up, his phone pressed to his ear.
And then I noticed he was shirtless. There were shadows across his back that were uneven in the dim light. I thought it strange, until I realized I was looking at scars. In my sleepy state, I stretched out a hand, feeling one with my fingertips.
“Yeah,” he said into the phone. He twisted at the same time, capturing my wrist and holding it in a firm grip. He gazed at me and frowned. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.” He hung up the phone.
I wanted to ask him where he was going, but in my tired state, I only managed to mumble something incoherent, as I stared at him with my muddled questions through half closed eyes.
He sighed, leaning over and planting a soft kiss on my brow. “This is why I’m going to end up old and alone.”
“Hm?”
“Nevermind.” He got up, fished a T-shirt from out of the dresser and headed to the door.
I turned over, unsure what he was up to. Too tired and out of it to follow. Did he just kiss me on the forehead?
I heard a distinct knock from down the hall.
“Raven,” Marc called. “Go stay with Kayli. Don’t let her run off or anything.”
I gave a tired, indignant snort and rolled over, facing the wall.
Another minute-eon later, and the bed shook again.
I yanked the blanket, stuffing it over my head. “How does anyone sleep here?” I asked.
“Hey,” Raven said. He tugged at the blanket. “Get your own apartment if you don’t like ours.”
I kicked backward, finding his shin. His foot knocked back into my ankle in response.
“Stop,” he said. “Trying to sleep.”
I grunted and turned, lifting both feet until I was pressing my frozen toes into his bare back. He jerked forward, capturing an ankle.
“As cold as your heart,” he said.
I stilled, and expected him to let go. I was going to turn over again and go to sleep. Raven, instead, held on to my feet, cupping them with his hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Have to warm those toes, little thief.”
?????
In the morning, when the light was filtering in through the window, I flipped over, finding Raven sprawled out on his back, snoring. His shirt was off. Since he was sleeping, I was able to study the tattoos on his arms that extended on his chest. Along his chest were some Russian words I didn’t understand, and on his stomach were three Russian-style towers, with what looked like upside-down dome tops. There was a rose with barbed wire twisted around it along the inside of one of his arms.
I stared at the details as I drifted in thought. It was hard to shake off the feeling that I had to get up and go. It felt like every minute I spent standing still, I was losing the little bit of headway the guys had provided for me. Did I really not have to pick pockets anymore? Would I get a job? The tingle of my life changing made me feel so alive. Different, too.
Maybe the truth was I never thought I’d stop stealing. I didn’t have much hope for myself. And what sort of job could I do? I’d done odd jobs all my life. They were asking me what I wanted to do. I hadn’t thought this far. I was always trying to get by, let alone get ahead.
I absently traced the line of one of the barbed wires, checking out the detail. Raven’s hand made a sweep, and he slapped my fingers away from his arm. “Stop.” He turned over onto his side, exposing his back to me.
His back was covered with the face of a grizzly bear with his mouth open in fierce snarl. The eyes were wide, harsh.
I grunted, planted my two feet on his back and shoved.
The sheets were cotton and smoothed out tight, leaving almost no friction. Raven slid off the edge of the bed, landing on the floor in a heap. He growled, and sat up. “Pidora´s!”
I didn’t need a translator to guess that he was cursing in Russian. I rolled over until I was taking up the rest o
f the bed, spread eagle on my stomach. I stuffed my face against the pillow, trying to hide my smirk. For having woken up several times, I did sleep better than I had in a long time. I was awake now, and ready to play.
He shoved the heel of his foot at my hip. “Scoot over.”
I tilted my head away from him so I could talk to the wall. “No.”
He climbed up until he was on top of me. He sat on my butt, and started dropping his full weight threatening to squish. “Crazy woman. Move.”
I tried knocking my heels into his back but he didn’t budge. “Go away.”
“I’m supposed to stay here.”
“I’m not four years old. I don’t need a babysitter.”
