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“What kind of television do you watch in bed?”
He kissed my cheek. “Whatever you want. As you know, I almost never sleep.”
Yet another thing we had in common.
6
It should have been awkward to lie in his bed and watch late night nothingness on television, but it wasn’t. Actually, it was kind of nice. I was usually alone in bed, staring at the ceiling or zoning out on the TV in the hopes that I might eventually turn off my brain and go to bed. At least here, I had company. Max was actually very nice, which only made the fact that I’d basically screwed up his life even worse. Not that I should feel better about it if he were a monster, but still. These were the sorts of thoughts that raced through my mind as we stared at someone demonstrating a product that promised to cook ribs in five minutes flat.
He shook his head. “Where is the fun in that?”
I could see why he’d think so, but others might not. “Maybe there’s a mother of five out there just trying to get it done. Cooking the ribs in five minutes flat could really help her.”
Max nodded slowly. “Sure. I can see how that would help. Only I bet that tastes like hell, and they’re zapping all the nutrition right out of it.”
He ran his finger up my arm once, then again. And then again. I loved the feeling. He didn’t seem to be doing itconsciously. His eyes and attention were glued to the screen. I leaned my head on his shoulder, and he leaned the side of his on top of mine. It was intimate in a way that I didn’t think sex would have been.
Maybe tonight wasn’t a total wash for me getting over things.
Do people ever really get over things?
There I was with my thoughts again.
“Why don’t you sleep well? Or much?” I watched his fingers move on my arm instead of the television. It was somewhat hypnotizing. I really shouldn’t have asked the question because he was going to ask me why too, and I didn’t really want to tell him.
He sighed. “Combat has that effect on people sometimes. It’s better than it used to be. The years pass, and with lots of help, I am better at managing it. I still don’t sleep a lot, but that’s okay. I function well enough. I seem to be healthy. I exercise. Things could be worse. I’m lying in my bed with a beautiful insomniac right now.”
My cheeks immediately heated up, and since we’d positioned ourselves the way we were, I couldn’t look up and see if he were laughing at me. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Not in the slightest.”
He thought I was beautiful. It wasn’t that I hadn’t heard the words before. I had, and over the years, I’d come to actually hate it. Was it because I was considered so physically attractive that I’d been left open to just be…? Nope, I wasn’t going there. I’d Scarlett O’Hara syndrome it—I’d think about it tomorrow. One of my nannies loved that movie.
Max saying I was beautiful felt different. It actually moved through me like it was something I should want. It was flattering. Yet, I still gave my answer the way I always did. “My mother was spectacularly pretty. She passed off a little bit to us, but you know what they say?”
He was quiet, but when he answered, it was with amusement in his voice. “No, Hope. What do they say?”
“Beauty and folly are old companions.” I said the line and was comfortable with the idea that the conversation would move past my looks. No one really knew exactly what to say when flattered, right?
“And she quotes Benjamin Franklin.”
Well, that is unusual.I shifted my head, separating us, and we both looked at each other instead of leaning on each other. “You know who said that.”
“I do. I went to school.” He winked at me. “And I’m not a guy who reads fiction. I like to read biographies and autobiographies. Anything about history.” He took a strand of my hair in his hand. “Is that your way of telling me that you don’t like to be complimented about how you look?”
I sighed. “I don’t really know what to do with it. I get all this attention for how I look, but when I stare at myself, what I see is that parts of me look like my mom, parts of me resemble my siblings. My brown eyes are all my father. And…” I sighed. “I’m afraid, if this is all I am, then soon I will be nothing at all.”
He furrowed his brow as I spoke and then eventually nodded. “Maybe it’s what first strikes people about you, but it isn’t what I think of when I think about you anymore. I mean, sure, I do think about what you look like. I’m crazy attracted to you, sometimes despite myself. But I keep thinking of how you managed to clear all that fruit from customs.” He grinned at me. “It was insanity.”
“So what you’re saying is it starts with the pretty, but people stick around for the way I am absolutely out of my mind?”
He touched the end of my nose. “Totally that.”
Somehow, what he said seemed about right. We ended up lying back down, but this time, I pressed up to his chest. His heartbeat was steady and strong against my ear.
Time passed slowly, as it always did at night. Max tangled his hand up in my hair, rubbing the back of my scalp gently. “Why don’t you sleep?”
There was the question. He hadn’t been put off, just delayed. Or maybe he’d been giving me time to think about it, knowing the query would be coming. I didn’t know him well enough to have that answer.
