12. Interlude
TWELVE
INTERLUDE
LUCA
I have a confession to make: I’m as creepy as Kylie called me her first night at the cabin.
I sleep on the couch. I’ve kept the Burnses room off-limits, even when Kylie comes upstairs to eat meals with me in the kitchen, play checkers, chat , and even watch movies on the big television in the living room.
But every night after I’m sure Kylie is sleeping on the cot? I sneak down as quietly as possible, missing the fourth stair that I’ve discovered creaks, and plop my ass on the cement floor so that I can at least watch her slumber peacefully.
I don’t touch her, though my fingers itch to remember just how soft her skin is. I keep my distance, and if she snuffles, I hop up and hide in the bathroom until I’m sure she’s fast asleep again.
If the blanket she’s using to stay warm shifts in her sleep, I’ll adjust it so she’s covered. That’s all.
And, okay, maybe I do steal her cucumber after she’s done with it.
I told myself that it needed to be refrigerated. I only bought her the one—though I’ll definitely add more to the next grocery order—and after she… finishes with it, it’ll probably go bad quickly if she leaves it up. That’s not even thinking about what’s on it, or what kind of bacteria could grow, and…
And…
And I didn’t put it in the refrigerator.
Because I’m a creep.
Because I’m screwing this all up.
Because I’m her captor, and I’m supposed to make her love me.
But, most of all, I’m fucked because, somehow, I’m the one falling for her…