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“Such a shame I have to close my eyes, then,” I said, and squeezed them shut.
Nothing. I heard nothing.
“They’re closed, dummy,” I added.
There was another second of silence before I heard the familiar scrape of a wood drawer being pulled open. Fabric shuffled around for a moment, another drawer closed and then opened, more fabric, and then the drawer closed. He was walking back to the bathroom; even if he was so quiet I could barely hear his footsteps, I just knew he was.
And I couldn’t help myself.
My eyes cracked open just as his back disappeared into the bathroom. Thick muscles cascaded every inch of his body, dancing with every slight movement of his frame. Something I’d felt and imagined in my head. It was a quick glimpse, but it left me wanting more. Wanting to see what it was along the left side of his body that had so briefly flashed before my eyes before he’d disappeared.
Sighing, I felt a twinge of guilt for peeking and frustration. It had left me even more intrigued and curious.
Weston emerged just a few moments later, his mustache neatly brushed through and his curly hair was damp, longer on the top, but only by a little bit. He looked clean and classy, and the curls were tighter, more defined from the shower. It was strange seeing him in shorts and a t-shirt though. His legs were definitely much less tanned than his arms and face, but still thickly muscled.
The sleeves of his shirt fell just above his biceps, scrunching slightly and accentuating his hardened body of muscles. Muscles. Not gym muscles, but hard-labor-built strength that I couldn’t help studying. He was not someone I would’ve ever thought would pay me much attention. I was from a completely different world than him, only thrown into his life because my parents moved to Montana four years ago for fresher air and a slower life. Yet here we were.
I also hadn’t known the whirlwind ride it would take me on in the first few weeks of me moving here.
A friendship with someone so powerful, intelligent, and mysterious. Someone who I couldn’t figure out, who didn’t seem real, yet the imperfections of him made him more real than anyone else.
He walked around the bed, flicked the light switch off, and then climbed in, leaving us in pitch black. My eyes slowly began adjusting as we lay in silence, the pillow wall between us.
“Are you worried?” I whispered into the air, wondering if he was still awake.
Silence.
He must have already fallen asleep, and I shifted towards the stack of pillows, wondering what he looked like while he slept. If maybe his face finally fell into some sort of comfort and relief. Maybe while sleeping, he realized how strong he really was. Maybe while sleeping, he had a life outside of this ranch. Although, I wondered if he truly didn’t care about that, if this life was enough for him.
“Yes.” His deep voice pierced through the thick stillness. “I’m worried that if whoever is doing this succeeds in their end goal, it’s not just me that will be destroyed by the loss of the cattle, but my entire family. Everyone I love will be ruined by this.”
A true confession, and not one he would willingly admit to. That was a deep secret that rested in his soul, something I wondered how painful it had been to express. I wished I could console him, give him the confidence I had in him, but I didn’t know how. There were no words that would quench that flame.
So I drifted to sleep without saying anything more as he did the same.
∞∞∞
It was still dark when I woke next. The sun had not risen, yet I was roused from my sleep for some reason. Blinking a few times, I let the room fall into focus. I was facing the pillow wall that had tumbled down. There was only a single pillow between us, no longer stacked three high, and I pushed myself up slightly to get a better view of him.
He looked peaceful. Sprawled on his back, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. The blanket was shoved down towards his waist, bunched above his shorts, and the T-shirt clung tightly to his body. How did he not realize he was such a specimen to behold?
But it wasn’t his figure that I studied—it was that scar. Reaching over the pillow that separated us, I extended a finger towards his face. Hesitating for just a moment in the shadow filled room, I hovered above his skin. Another violation if I were to do this, just like peeking earlier.
Yet, my self-control was out the window in another second as I brushed his face, tracing the bumpy scar. His eyes twitched, those dark brows flickered, so I paused my movement but left my finger against his cheek. Waiting for another moment before I resumed tracing, and it was as if he leaned into the touch.
As I continued to draw my finger across his skin, he shifted closer with a soft groan. I reached the end of the scar and withdrew my finger but continued to study him. To have him in my life was truly a blessing.
Then I laid back down on my pillow and fell asleep once more.
∞∞∞
It was so warm and soft when I awoke with sunlight blaring through my eyelids that I kept them closed. Reveling in the comfort that I felt wrapped around my body, I snuggled in tighter and inhaled deeply. It smelled so much like that musky tree scent I’d experienced earlier when Weston had carried me through the snow.
So calming, so consoling. Another deep breath filled my lungs, and then I finally cracked open my eyelids. There he was. Weston’s chin was tucked against the top of my head, his arms encircling my body. I smiled softly and wiggled into his chest a little tighter. This was very nice. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d awoken so refreshed.
Tucking one leg between his, I scooted as close as I could, feeling him tighten his arms around my body. A soft sigh left his lips. His chest rose higher, and he lifted his chin from my hair. I tilted my head back and met his intense gaze with my green eyes. A lazy smile was upon his face as he blinked a couple times.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice deeper and raspier than usual.
