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“Well, I was starving waiting for you and contemplated eating without you.” She flashes a sweet smile, and it makes my heart pound harder.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” I say, releasing her. “Now I feel bad.”
“Nah, don’t. I was caught up in my book anyway.” She waves me off, but I don’t miss the hint of blush on her cheeks. It’s as if being caught doing something nice has given her true feelings away.
We take our plates and drinks to the living room and settle on the couch.
“So what book are you reading anyway? And why did it make you cry?” I ask before taking a massive bite.
“Don’t make fun. I was reading a romance novel, and the main characters can’t be together, which just makes my chest ache. The angst and tension are intense.” I study her as she talks about them as if they’re real people. “And before you say anything, yes, I know it’s just fiction.”
I chuckle when she rolls her eyes. “Damn, you reading my mind now?”
“I’ve learned a lot about you in just this past month.” She smirks. “Then I was reading it while listening to a Calum Scott song, and my heart just shredded.”
Once we finish eating, I clean up since she cooked, then get in the shower. Considering I’m living the plot of her damn romance novel, constantly fighting my feelings because I can’t be with her, my showers last until the water runs cold. I pump my cock over and over until I release all over the wall and curse myself for feeling this way about her. Pissed I missed my damn chance. The more time we spend together, the harder it gets to fight my heart.
By the time I’m done, it’s almost ten o’clock, and I’m exhausted, but I don’t want to miss the opportunity to watch one of our shows before bed. It’s become tradition, and no matter how tired I am, I’ll stay up with her.
I’m surprised to see she isn’t in the living room when I come down, and when I peek into her bedroom, I notice she’s fallen asleep with her book. Walking inside, I click her lamp on and place her book on the nightstand. Then I grab an extra blanket and cover her body since she’s lying on top of her comforter. She looks exhausted, too. Before walking away, I brush a hand over her face and kiss her forehead.
“Good night, sweet Sophie.”
I close her door halfway before walking out.
I should go to bed myself, but now my thoughts are running all over, so I situate on the couch and turn on the TV. She’ll kill me if I watch Lucifer without her, so I click on Liam’s stupid show and watch all the Southern drama on the screen.
My eyelids are heavy, and when I can’t fight it any longer, I eventually lie down. Only a moment passes before I can no longer hear the TV, and I’m drifting off to sleep. I don’t know how much time has passed when I hear wailing and nearly fly off the couch. I rub my eyes and blink until I can read the time on my phone. It’s after three in the morning, and when I hear the noise again, I realize it’s coming from Sophie’s room.
She’s groaning and grinding her teeth. I push open the door and step inside, the light from her lamp shining on her face that’s scrunched and moving from side to side.
Fuck, she’s having a nightmare.
Rushing to her side, I bend down and carefully shake her shoulders while whispering her name. I try to prepare for her to head butt me or claw at me, so I don’t get too close right away.
“Sophie, baby. Wake up,” I say a little louder, adding more pressure to her shoulder. “You’re dreaming.”
She blinks her eyes open, looking all around and then focusing on me. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, and her forehead is covered in sweat.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
Her breathing is shallow, and I place my hand over her cheek to reassure her that she’s safe.
“Yeah, I think so,” she finally responds, pushing her palms into her eyes. “Just a really intense dream that felt way too real.”
She swallows before blowing out a slow, relieved breath. “Sorry if I woke you.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, Soph. I’ll grab you a bottle of water, hold on,” I tell her as she sits up and nods.
Once I’m back, she takes it and sucks half of it before setting it down. “Thank you.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, cautiously.
She sucks in her lower lip, not meeting my gaze. “It was about Weston,” she answers. “When he’d drink a lot and—”
I grit my teeth, my jaw locking tight at the thought of his hands on her. “I’m so sorry, Soph. I wish so many times I would’ve intervened sooner.”
