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I had been still for a minute now, scared to move a muscle. My hips were starting to hurt from the weight resting on it. I shifted slowly to make myself comfortable. My legs brushed Tristan’s, and my movement made his hands move lower.
He stayed quiet. I could feel the steady movement of his chest behind me. I adjusted again to find a cold spot on the pillow, and I heard him groan. Was he frustrated with my stirring? Well, he should get used to it because I would be moving a lot.
I closed my eyes and listened to the rain outside. The warmth from his skin engulfed me like a quilt, and I embraced it. I was starting to drift slowly to sleep when he spoke. His voice was so smooth and warm against my skin; I could feel it flow through my body like honey.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I asked, my voice coming out low.
“I couldn’t get your parents to listen to me. Your mom kept threatening to call the cops if I stepped on her yard again. She won’t let me anywhere close to the house.”
I remained quiet. I didn’t know how I felt about that. Maybe disappointed at my family and relieved he’d at least tried but angry he couldn’t fix the damage he’d done. Many people thought the worst of me—that I was a homewrecker.
“I couldn’t tell you because I promised to clear up the mess I’d made. I was only able to get the videos down. I’m sorry. I will keep trying.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what I was feeling.
“Chloe?” he called when I said nothing.
I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep when he moved to check if I was awake. I heard him sigh and mumble a curse.
The melodic chirpingof birds and brightness flooding the room woke me up. The intense sunlight burned my eyes as I tried to keep them open. I felt too lazy to stand up and pull the drapes to block the sunlight.What time is it?My brain was always slow in the morning.
I felt strong arms around me when I moved. Last night came flashing back. I was surprised he was still here. I looked up at his face that was now a few inches away. Somehow, we had changed positions from last night; he was now cradling me in his arms, my face buried in his neck and his stubble brushing my forehead. One of his arms stayed around my waist and the other around my shoulders. Our legs were intertwined.
Should I wake him up?It was Sunday. Maybe he had nothing to do. It was clearly a late morning, but I didn’t feel like pulling away. I snuggled closer and closed my eyes. It wasn’t every day you got a human teddy bear.
I wokeup alone on the bed, no sign of my teddy bear. It was almost one p.m. I walked to the bathroom and sat on the toilet. I needed tampons; my period was due anytime soon. From the fever and acne appearing on my cheeks, I could tell she was on her way to make a visit. I was one of the unlucky ones who had the worst menstrual cramps.
I took a shower and threw on sweat shorts and a loose T-shirt. Morris smiled at me as I entered the kitchen. I settled for a full meal to make up for breakfast and lunch.
“Where is Tristan?” I asked as he served me some lemon tea.
“He left the house an hour ago.”
Did he know I’d heard everything he said last night? I wanted to text him to get me some tampons on his way back. I didn’t want to be out in public. I realized I could just order it online and save myself the embarrassment of explaining the brand and type of tampon I used to Tristan.
I went for a walk in the garden after eating. I spent hours on the phone with Belvina after and went to check my school emails for any announcement.
In the evening, I wanted to do something to keep myself occupied. I went to the kitchen and decided to make dinner, which might have been a bad idea because I didn’t know how to cook. My mom hadn’t done so well in that department. We had a private chef that came over every day to cook because Mom couldn’t do anything right in the kitchen. She had given up after she made the lasagna explode in the oven.
“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Morris asked for the third time.
“Yes, Morris. It’s not my first time cooking pasta.” I smiled at him. It was actually my first time, but I was sure cooking pasta was as easy as boiling water, right?
“You can leave now.”
He was reluctant, but he still left.
“What are you doing?” Tristan asked, entering the kitchen with his laptop.
“Cooking?” I smiled.
“Are you sure you can cook?”
I was offended that he’d asked. What if I was a good cook?
“You’re about to find out.” I smirked as I put the spaghetti in the boiling water. I read the next instruction on the pasta pack—prepare the sauce.
