AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nope.
Side’s not gonna work.
My hip protests right away, pain searing through it. If I fell asleep like this, I wouldn’t be able to walk by morning.
Morning….Ugh.
Between doling out relationship advice and encouraging us to “dance from the heart”, Skye gave us a rundown of the day to come.
I can’t remember the details. All I remember is that the word “yoga” came up more times than I wanted. Basically, more than zero times, which would be my preference.
I flip to my back again with a groan.
“What was that?” Olivia asks. The blankets on the bed rustle.
“Sorry. Me, I guess. I’ll try to pipe down.”
Maybe if I’m quiet, she’ll turn off that darn lantern and we can both get some sleep.
“No, not your old man sounds. You’ve been doing that every two minutes since you laid down. I meanthat.”
Now I hear it.
A faint scraping sound, outside. “Probably a rodent in the woodpile. Just let it be.”
So, we can sleep.
As far as I can tell, sleep is the only pleasant activity on the schedule for the foreseeable future.
Olivia swings her legs over the side of the bed. She pauses to listen for a minute. She’s in dark purple satin pajamas, a top-and-bottom set complete with buttons and a collar. Her hair’s swept over one shoulder like a waterfall.
Her face is fresh, without a drop of makeup on it. It surprises me that she looks even better this way than with her usual tints and tones and paints.
She’s bathed in golden light from the lantern, too. All that soft, warm light falls on her curves, that purple satin, and her chestnut-auburn curls.
The sound keeps up, constant and close.
Then something out there walks a few paces. Maybe a deer? I hear hooves on the dirt.
“I’m gonna go see,” she says.
I sigh.
Nothing’s simple. Nothing’s straightforward. I want to sleep, but Olivia has other plans, so here I am hauling myself up to my feet.
My knees creak. My joints feel achy and stiff. I stifle another groan. She already called my grunts and groans old man sounds. Even though I’m feeling resentful and bitter right now I’d rather be seen as youthful than not.
Maybe it’s because she’s looking so angelic or something. Who wants to be accused of making ‘old-man sounds’ by a woman this beautiful?
Maybe I’m letting this fake boyfriend thing go to my head.
Usually, I’m a pro at denying her requests, ducking out from under the favors she asks. But right now, I’m stuffing my feet in my work boots.
I grab my headlamp and follow Olivia toward the yurt’s exit.
She hesitates there, with the door still closed.
The scraping out there starts up again, and then there’s a big thump—something hitting the ground.
