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“Sometimes it’s impossible to tell if you pretend to hate me most of the time, or in situations like this you’re just pretending to like me,” I confess.
His head rears back as if my words have physically slapped him.
It came out of the blue, I’ll give him that. I swallow, ducking my chin because where the hell did that come from? He was looking at me with new eyes, speaking with kind words, holding my hand like he wanted to be close, and it messed with my head.
“Ainsley…”
Before he can say any more, we’re interrupted by one of the officers, which is a good thing for me, because I don’t want to deal with the consequences of what I just said.
CHAPTERELEVEN
When the police finally leave, the sun is rising, and I’m dead tired. My eyes sting, and my body is heavy. I feel like I’ve been awake for days and could pass out at any moment.
Emotionally, I’m done.
Casper still hasn’t left my side, but things are a touch on the awkward side since I mentioned him perhaps hating me. It would take a few words to clear the air but I’m a chicken, and he hasn’t said a word about it. I don’t think he will, so I’ll ignore it, too.
“You should go to bed,” Casper says the moment I yawn into the back of my hand.
He turns to me, giving me his full attention.
I shake my head. “No, I’m good. I’ll get dressed, head out to the café, then spend the day at the library.”
“You can’t go out all day. You’re exhausted and probably still in shock. Honestly, you look like you’re going to collapse.”
“I’ll be all right once I’m out. I just need a day between now and when I finally sleep, you know? More needs to happen before I close my eyes.”
I go to stand up, but before I can get anywhere, his hand wraps around my wrist and he pins me to the sofa. His eyes drift from the burning of our joined hands to my face. “You can sleep at mine.”
My heart skips a full beat, maybe two. Maybe I’m already dead. “What?”
“You don’t need breakfast and books. You need to get some sleep.”
“Er, thanks but—”
“For once, can you do what I ask without a fight?” He sighs. “I don’t mind the arguing, but I’m exhausted, too. Plus, you won’t have nightmares.”
I want to remind him that this isn’t the first time I’ve done as he asked; I also drank Coke to sober up at his request, but that doesn’t seem helpful right now. Besides, I’m still grateful for that. Imani’s hangover was killer, but I was relatively unharmed. The headache was manageable.
Casper watches me with that intensity that makes me want to vanish, waiting for my reply, which we both know is pointless since he doesn’t really care what I have to say, anyway. He’s made his mind up.
Can I really go to his house and sleep on his sofa? After what just happened, I don’t think he would draw on me or take photos. He’s been sweet, besides a few domineering moments I don’t think he can help because it’s sewn into the fabric of his being.
I even think I might like this side of him.
Does that make me a masochist?
Casper lets go of my wrist and stands. “Come on. We both need to get some sleep.”
I can’t even be bothered to protest anymore, even if he didn’t wait for my decision just like I expected. I feel as if I’m blinking sand, and I desperately need to get a couple hours sleep in.
I follow him from my place to his, wrapping my arms around my waist. A few hours ago, someone was sneaking around the side of my house, ready to break in.
Casper leads us into his home, then turns, watching me walk past him. I make sure he’s locked the front door. He hesitates for a second, looks over his shoulder to me, and then pulls the chain across, letting me know the house is as secure as it can be. Whoever was breaking in isn’t likely to come back now—not after almost being caught.
It’s strange being here alone with him. The silent house and lack of witnesses makes me want to run away and never look back. Casper doesn’t seem to have the same issue.
I hate that he makes me feel like this while he’s so unaffected.
