Grabbing a hold of the door, I start to pull it shut leaving us on opposite sides of the door.
“Stay.”
Instantly I freeze. The words were spoken so carefully, so quietly, I don’t know if she actually said them or if they were a figment of my imagination.
Not until she looks over her shoulder to me, points towards the bed and repeats, “Stay.”
It doesn’t even take me a second to decide. The door shuts with both of us on the same side.
Kicking off my boots, I waste no time peeling my dress off. I know nothing will happen tonight, but goddammit, I’m not sleeping in clothes I’ve been working in all day. Keeping my steps light, I move to the bed and climb beneath the covers and Cyrus stands staring at the wall. Completely unmoving.
“Cyrus, get in bed.” When she stays staring at the wall, I calm my tone, “Please.”
She breaks the staring competition with the wall and looks over at me, gives me a brief nod before she starts undressing. It takes her a while, each movement seems to chip further awayat what's left of her. I can see how exhausted she is, how much the events of the last week have taken it out of her.
Finally she’s undressed and turns towards the bed. Her eyes meet mine, then she drops onto the bed.
Then she does the last thing I expected her to do.
She crawls up to me.
Her movements are slow and it's not sexual in the least. But she listened to what I said and did exactly what I told her.
Once she reaches the head of the bed she just about manages to slide herself under the covers before resting her head on my chest, her arm sliding to rest over my waist. Balling herself up so our size difference isn’t as noticeable. Her warm breath skims over me as her breathing starts to slow.
“You were right. I came crawling to you, even if it was in a way you didn’t mean.” Then her breathing evens out and she’s fast asleep.
I gulp, because her crawling to me in need of comfort may just be more impactful than her crawling in need of sexual release. I won’t waste this opportunity. Threading my fingers into her hair, I whisper her a promise, “I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”
Then I let sleep take me too.
The birds are singing their morning song when I wake.
The feeling of a heavy weight on my chest and curled around my side encourages me to open my eyes. Short dark hair fills my vision and I can’t help but smile.
She’s still here.
Golden rays filter in through the window, slowly waking the room up and leaving light streaks over Cyrus’s legs.
She’s still cuddled up to me, her arm wrapped tight around my waist and face buried between my breasts. She’s so much longer than me that her legs stretch far further than mine, her feet dangling off the edge of the bed.
Gently, so that I don’t wake her before she’s ready, I brush her short hair back from her face and tuck it behind her ear. She looks relaxed. The dark marks beneath her eyes have faded away and for once she doesn’t look like a stone statue. She looks like a living and breathing person.
I want to know more about her. Why does she feel the need to put this mask in place? And why does she let me see beneath it? Does she even realise she does that for me?
I’ve known her for years, whenever they’d stay on the island I’d seek her out. Yet I’ve learnt more about her in the last few days than I have in years.
I want to keep peeling back those layers off her until she shows me all of her.
For a while, I lay here contemplating ways to get her to trust me with her true self. Letting the rising sun skim up our limbs and warm me from the outside in. It takes Cyrus a while before she wakes up.
But I won’t forget the sight of those eyelashes fluttering open, and those dazzling blue orbs shining up at me.
I’ve never seen eyes the colour of the deep sea before. Yet she has them.
Such a dark blue they feel like they should appear black, yet they never lose their intense blueness. Staring into them feels like being swallowed by a whirlpool. They hold you captive. And I don’t ever want to be set free.
She blinks, cutting off the hypnotic connection. Clearing my throat and plastering on my biggest grin, I speak, “Good morning, dove. Sleep well?”
