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Simon wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me close so that our hips bumped with each step. I didn't resist. His solidness and warmth felt too good now. I would fortify the walls around me later, when I was safe at home.
He didn't speak on the walk home. I was surprised that he didn't start interrogating me, but he seemed to sense that I needed silence. Simon continually surprised me with his perceptiveness.
When we reached my apartment and climbed up the stairs, he took the keys from my hand and unlocked my door, ushering me inside. I couldn't decide whether this was gentlemanly or domineering. At the moment I didn't care.
He flicked on the lights and dropped my keys on the table. I took off my coat and watched him do the same. He took both of our coats and draped it on the back of the couch.
I needed to put some distance between us before he started asking me questions.
"Thanks for walking me home. You don't have to stay. I'm just going to crash now."
"Nope."
"What?" I asked, confused. Had I misheard him?
Simon sat down on the couch and made himself at home. I just stood there, gawking at him.
"I'm not leaving until you tell me what happened tonight."
I bristled at his order. I decided that I didn't like this side of him. "I told you. I drank too much."
Simon shook his head. "No. You had two drinks at the party. You told me so."
"I drank more at the bar!" I exclaimed, knowing that I was getting too worked up but not able to stop myself. I felt panic at Simon's refusal to accept my explanation. He was questioning me again, something I wasn't used to except from Sarah. And she backed down much more easily.
Simon narrowed his eyes, the blue depths giving me a warning, skewering me to the spot. "You're lying," he said flatly.
"Wh-what?" I stuttered. I desperately just wanted him to go away, no longer feeling comforted by his presence.
"You're lying," he repeated. "I watched you. You didn't drink at the bar."
I threw my hands up in anger. "What are you doing, stalking me?" I shrieked. I was angry that I had been caught in a lie, but I wasn't sure who I was angrier at - Simon for not letting me get away with it or myself for fumbling my excuse.
&nbs
p; "Sit down," Simon commanded in a low voice. I definitely did not like this side of Simon. "You look like you're about to fall over."
I made a sound of impatience and folded my arms across my chest, glaring at him. "I don't know if this routine works on other people, but I don't respond well to orders."
Simon shot up and grabbed my hand, forcing my arms to part and pulling me down on the couch next to him. "If you're going to lie to me, at least do it sitting down. You look like you can barely keep yourself standing." He had a thunderous expression on his face, but his eyes softened as he looked at me. I couldn't help but be painfully aware of how uncomfortably close we were. Simon kept hold of my hand and placed our joined hands on his lap.
"Caitlin," he implored softly. "Why won't you let me in?"
My heart clenched painfully at his words. Simon could be so dangerous for me. I desperately wanted to pour my fears out to him. I wanted to tell him about my visions. About how they haunted me, not just at night but in the daytime too. How I was becoming paranoid again, feeling like I was being watched, something I thought I had conquered. I wanted to tell him I feared I was genuinely going crazy and for him to reassure me that I was okay.
But none of this passed my lips. It was because I wanted to tell Simon everything that I had to steel myself against him. I didn't want to see pity in his beautiful blue eyes. Pity for a crazy girl. He would regret ever meeting me. I didn't think I could survive that.
More importantly, he was in one of my visions. I could never tell Simon that I had seen him drowning in a dream before I had even met him. And the visions were getting worse, becoming more and more real. I had just been lucky that I hadn't had a vision of Simon again. But it was only a matter of time. If I had one now, with how I felt about him, I would break. Another reason to keep him at a distance.
"Simon," I started slowly. I needed him to back off and I did it the only way I knew how. I cringed inwardly, not wanting to say the next words but forcing myself to. "I need to call Bob. He's the only one that can help me feel better. You should leave."
Simon reacted as if I had physically hit him, reeling back and dropping my hand. He paled and his eyes no longer were filled with concern. They were glinting with pain. His mouth twisted in distaste. "You told me before that you shared more with me than anyone else besides Sarah," he accused in a low voice. "Where does Bob fit in?" Simon almost spat when he said his name.
I cursed myself for telling Simon that before. I felt conflicted, needing to push him away but loathe to hurt him. I tried to do the least damage possible.
"Our relationship is...complicated," I explained. "Bob accepts me for who I am without questions. He doesn't ask and I don't feel the need to explain. We're okay with not taking it beyond that." Even I knew that the relationship between myself and the fictitious Bob sounded pathetic.
Simon grunted in disgust. "So he would just let you spin out of control, no questions asked? He sounds like a shithead."
