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“I'm done,” I let go of his chin and turn around, fixing the first aid kit back in place.
“Thanks,” he says in a low tone, and I sense him standing behind me.
“How about you take a shower while I find something clean to change into?” I suggest.
“Sure,” Samael agrees with a quick nod and cautiously follows me to the bathroom. We sneak through the hallway first, making sure no one's around.
I leave my bedroom door open, listening carefully for any noise from my parents' room while I search through my closet for a fresh t-shirt and pants. Lucky for him, I sleep in baggy tees and undies, so I've got plenty of shirts his size. The bummer is that my pants might be too tight for him, and I'm worried they won't fit. I flip over all the messy stacks of clothes until I finally find some trendy Turkish-style pants that were a hit among the cool girls back then. I'm extremely glad I picked black ones, hoping they'll hide my bony hips. See, I've always been a skinny, short girl with a massive hip and bust area. My body shape has always pushed me to hide it even more under oversized hoodies, all because of who I am.
The priest's daughter can't tempt anyone to sin, not even by the way she looks. Wearing tight clothes would have been a real social standard heresy.
I grab the pants and the shirt from the closet, then sneakily head to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. I leave the clothes by the bathroom door so he can change when he's done. In, like, less than ten minutes, I hear footsteps coming to my room, and there's Samael, rocking a towel around his neck, with his hair still wet, wearing my X-men tee and the pants that don't look half bad on him, except they're three-quarters length.
“My bad. I don't have any other pants, but the tee fits perfectly. I usually sleep in oversized tees, that's why...” I trail off.
“I know,” he says, glancing at the makeshift bed on the floor, then coughs like he just made a rookie mistake.
I feel my stomach tighten, and I wonder if Samael has ever seen me through my bedroom window, wearing only the oversized shirt that fits me like a dress paired with panties. My shirt clings to his broad shoulders but hangs loose around the waist and abdomen, due to his slender triangular body shape. His arms are long, and despite looking thin, I know how strong he is, judging by the prominent veins and large, bony fingers. My pants are obviously short on him, stopping above his ankles, as Samael has long legs and probably wears size 42 shoes, even though he's only 17. It makes me wonder if his feet will continue to grow in the future. He would look like a penguin, but a cute one.
After a quick shower, I return to my room in complete silence with two steaming mugs of milk, finding Samael tucked cozily under makeshift bed covers, reading a book I got two years ago just to pique his interest as a Harry Potter fan. I lock the door from inside, and I feel even more excited to be in my room with Samael, the door closed. I feel like I'm doing something illegal and dangerous, but I also feel something else, something that makes me feel good.
“Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Why can't I find the first two books?”
Because I didn't know it was the third book in a series, I bought it just to get your attention, thinking it would be a great topic for discussion. But when you asked about my favorite character and I said Hermione, you made a face and didn't ask anything else. I suspected you didn't like Hermione. I should have picked Harry instead. It would have been a safer choice. I bet all the girls like Hermione, and that doesn't make me any different from the rest. If I really think about it, I look more like Luna Lovegood, never like Hermione. Big blue eyes, blonde hair, and that voice... I've always hated my voice, but if I think about it, we even sound alike. I hope I don't seem like I'm constantly gazing at the stars, just like her.
Wait, does Samael think that too?
Rebecca Godwill - Luna Lovegood, even our names match!
Oh no! I just realized I'm the odd one in the group.
“I lent them to someone,” I shrug and watch as he places the book near his head and then looks me up and down.
This evening, I chose one of my oversized tees, paired with three-quarter pajama pants instead of my regular undies. I feel embarrassed as his eyes slide down my legs, and I hurriedly hand him the milk mug. When I notice the veins on his arms popping out with each muscle movement, I gulp nervously, and my heart becomes even louder, and I almost drop the milk mug. Samael quickly grabs it, and I climb into bed, covering myself up to my neck with the blanket.
“Do you also drink milk before bed?” he asks and sips discreetly.
“Yes,” I lie. “It helps me fall asleep.”
“Me too,” he says, giving me a smile that boosts my confidence.
I know, I think, smiling gratefully. We're on the right track!
Sami has had a habit of drinking warm milk before bed since childhood. Tonight, I brought warm milk specifically for him, even though I don't like it.
“Goodnight, Rebecca,” he wishes me, and I realize he has already finished his milk.
“Goodnight, Sami,” I reply, hurrying to finish my milk before it cools down.
As I lay my head on the pillow, I realize I'm too excited to sleep. No one has ever slept in my room before. I set my phone to ring at 6:00 in the morning and put it on charge, but then I change my mind and set the alarm for 5:30. I hate waking up in the middle of the night, and I hate even more that I have school tomorrow, but it's just one night, and then everything will be back to normal.
“Do you mind if I play some soft music? It helps me fall asleep faster,” I murmur, reaching for my phone.
“No,” he responds in a whisper.
“Goodnight, Sami,” I wish him for the second time, and I don't press play until I hear his reply.
“Goodnight, Rebecca,” he says slowly, and I can tell he's really sleepy.
