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Chapter Twelve
Nick
I wake to sunlight in my eyes and a warm hand against my chest. It’s almost a startling revelation, but then memories of last night flood my mind quickly, reminding me of where I am and why I’m here.
Meghan.
I try not to move. I’m afraid that if I move, so will her hand, which is under my shirt and splayed on my chest, and in the respect of full disclosure, I really, really like her touching me. I like it so much, in fact, that the proof is in my pants. And they’re not exactly the best pants to camouflage such evidence. The loose, white material pretty much looks just like the six-man tent I used to camp with in my youth. That’s something I need to change – and quickly. The last thing I need is for Meghan to wake and see my dick saluting her.
Grandma, Grandma, Grandma, Grandma. Nothing kills a hard-on like the memories of your grandma making you a Spiderman birthday cake when you’re ten years old, right?
Right.
Just when my pesky cock starts to act appropriately in the presence of a friend, I get a good look at the beautiful woman in my arms. God, she’s breathtaking. She looks completely relaxed, vulnerable even, as she sleeps on my arm. Even when she’s drooling on me, she’s still a vision.
Her brown hair is sorta wild, splayed out against the soft blue and brown comforter. We’re both still curled up on our sides, the way we fell asleep together last night – even if she fell asleep much sooner than I did. For almost two hours, I watched her sleep like a creeper, memorizing everything I could possibly commit to memory of the woman who was sleeping against my chest.
Last night. That was something. My nose feels fine, but my lip is a bit tender this morning. But I don’t give a shit. She could beat the shit out of me again if it meant letting out all of that anger she’d been hanging on to for so long. I’ve never seen her like that – upset to the point of violence, but I’m glad it happened. It was almost like a cleansing, a washing of her soul and the demons that plague her.
Is she healed? Ready to move on with her life? Hell no. But maybe now she’ll actually start trying, instead of merely existing. That’s what I want for her – to try. To see her easy smiles every day, to hear those little bubbles of laughter. I’ve heard anger is an important part of the grieving process, and maybe now that she’s unleashed two years worth of fury, she’ll finally face what troubles her.
And I wasn’t kidding. I feel like we’re in this together. She needs a friend, more than anything. Even if it means I’m permanently benched in the friend zone, I’d do it just so she gains that little spark of life back in her beautiful emerald eyes.
Which is why I should probably get up. I should remove myself from this comfortable little bubble I’m in, and leave. She can wake up on her own and go about getting ready for her day, without anything like regret setting in. I think that’s my biggest fear: that she’ll regret asking me to stay. Even though nothing happened, I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable that I’m here – in her bed.
Though, it’s a pretty fucking fantastic place to be.
Before I can slip from the place where she sleeps, a pair of green eyes open and meet mine. I feel her tense, but then immediately relax. Instead of the panic I expect her to feel, she offers me a small smile. That fucking smile is my undoing.
“Good morning,” I whisper, still terrified to move.
“Hi.” Her eyes seem to smile as she looks at me, her head still firmly resting on my forearm. She stretches her body out straight, the movements pushing her chest upward, toward my face. My cock notices. My eyes do too. Meghan also seems to notice where her hand is. I feel her fingers flex against my peck, but they don’t move. Instead, they almost seem to explore. I’m pretty sure no one is breathing at the moment as her fingers dance on my skin. “What time is it?” she finally asks, a small yawn slipping from her lips.
Glancing over her shoulder, I spot her alarm clock. “Six fifteen.”
“Wow, really? I never sleep this late or hard without waking up at least once,” she says, almost absently to herself.
“You were rather exhausted when you fell asleep.” She doesn’t answer with words, but merely nods her head.
“Your lip is all swollen and bruised,” she says after a few long seconds of silence. I also notice she still hasn’t moved her hand from my chest.
“I’ll be okay.”
“It’s probably going to hurt to eat for a while,” she says softly, her eyes full of concern and guilt.
“I’ll be fine, Meghan. I won’t starve.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Please stop saying that. I’m not sorry at all.”
“I still feel bad that I hurt you.”
“I’ll live.” My stomach chooses that moment to growl. She’s not the only one who slept soundly last night. I’m usually up by now and at the gym with Rhenn. He hasn’t blown up my phone, which I’m grateful for. I think even he knows that last night was kind of a big moment for her and is letting us be. “I’ll tell ya what. You can make it up to me with breakfast.”
Her eyes light up. “I’m buying.”
“I didn’t say that.”
