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“I guess so,” I said, trying to sound a little annoyed at his boldness, even if my heart did a strange squeeze in my chest at how willing he was to just… be there.
Even if I didn’t think sleep was going to come again.
I felt too raw right then.
Parts of me still ached from the things inflicted in the nightmare, things from my memories. My skin felt overly sensitive and my heart still hadn’t returned to its normal rhythm.
Normally, I would climb out of bed, make some coffee to combat the fatigue, then go to work, losing myself in the projects, slowly allowing the past to slip away from me again.
I didn’t get out of bed, though.
I just reached for the remote, and started flicking through the apps until I felt Sway’s gaze on me.
“What?” I asked, scrolling through my purchases.
“I thought it was too much of a coincidence,” he said.
“What was?”
“Miranda and Samantha. But you didn’t strike me as a Sex and the City watcher.”
To that, my lips curved up.
“I mean, if I came across it as an adult, I probably would have given up after a few episodes. But I saw an episode for the first time when I was really way too young for it, but my father never thought of things like monitoring what I was watching. So I binged the hell out of it. I think it’s pretty much how I learned about sex, actually,” I admitted.
“I guess there are worse ways,” he said, shrugging.
“Like porn,” I said.
“Well, yeah, that. But it was weird as fuck to learn about it for the first time from your sixty-year-old gym teacher who was running a health class where he visibly went red when he said the word ‘vagina,’” he told me, rolling his eyes at the memory.
“Yeah, I guess at least it was somewhat realistic,” I said.
Because the girls of the show had all sorts of sex. Good, bad, embarrassing, even really odd. And they enjoyed it and faked it and talked openly about it.
“No Carrie and Charlotte, though, huh?” he asked as Miranda looked up at the bed for a minute before jumping up to rest at the foot.
“I think Miranda and Samantha were really the stars of the show,” I said, shrugging.
“No Mr. Big or Aiden or Steve?”
“The trainer told me that the girl dogs would be more reactive,” I said, shrugging. “Males are more aggressive, technically, but the girls tend to see everything as a threat.” The trainer actually called them more ‘neurotic and anxious’ which, I guess, was what I was looking for. Dogs as worried about danger as I was. “Besides if or when I get boy dogs, I think I’d name them Silvio and Paulie.”
To that, Sway let out a little chuckle. “Did you watch anything other than HBO shows as a kid?” he asked.
“My dad and I mostly watched documentaries and educational shows together. The R-rated stuff was my little secret.” Not that I think my dad would have cared. He usually told me that he trusted my judgment when I decided it was time to do something.
“So are we watching the girls in the city?” he asked, nodding toward where I had the pointer over my purchased collection of the show.
“No.” Absolutely not. I really didn’t think that having a show with lots of sex in it was a good idea with him in the bed next to me, seemingly wearing nothing but a pair of thin gray pajama pants. And with me, well, still unable to control my reaction to him.
“Really?” he asked when I switched apps and put on a docuseries about the history of American infrastructure.
“The narrator’s voice is soothing. It will put us to sleep,” I told him, though I didn’t think I would pass back out.
But then, within half an hour, Sway was passed out. Then rolling on his side to face me.
Fine.
I’ll admit it.
I was totally a creep, watching him for a long couple of minutes before I slid down on the mattress, rolling on my side to face him, surprisingly comforted by his presence.
Within a few minutes, I was passing back out.
This time, dreamlessly.
It was Miranda who woke us both up, our eyes on each other as we both fought against sleep to understand what woke us.
The dog climbing over us to get off the bed.
Then there we were, half asleep, bodies close, eyes locked.
He moved first, his hand raising, reaching out to swipe my hair behind my ear. But it didn’t immediately retreat. It drifted downward fingertips grazing my jaw.
It was a barely there touch, one that shouldn’t have sent a shiver through me, but there was no denying the way it moved through me, heightening my senses, making me crave more.
It was a need that must have manifested in my eyes, because I watched as Sway’s gaze heated as he looked at me.
