Beverly

Chapter 4 #2

That night, I woke up with my heart hammering against my ribs, my breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a choke.

I blinked a few times, struggling to break through the fog in my mind, to pull myself back to reality.

I wasn’t there anymore.

I wasn’t trapped.

I wasn’t in the dream.

But my body wasn’t convinced.

My hands trembled uncontrollably, my pulse frantic as if it was still trying to outrun something that wasn’t there. I could feel the cold sweat clinging to my skin, the tangled sheets pressing uncomfortably against my limbs. It took me too long to remember where I was. To pull myself out of the dream and remind myself that none of it was real.

The room felt smaller than it had when I fell asleep. Too dark. Too quiet . Yet the darkness didn’t stop the images from clinging to my mind’s eye, stubborn and vivid.

For a moment, I wasn’t entirely sure I was awake at all.

My fingers twitched, instinctively reaching for the wall between me and Beverly, but I froze before I could knock.

I couldn’t move.

Every night, after a nightmare, she knocked twice. I knocked back. It was our thing. A confirmation. A reassurance. A system. Our way of saying, I’m okay.

Except tonight, I wasn’t. My hand wouldn’t move.

I stared at the wall, willing my hand to just move, but my body wouldn’t listen. My fingers curled into a fist, useless at my side.

Two knocks came, soft but certain.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath shaky as I exhaled sharply through my nose. Just knock back, Blake . Just knock. Knock back.

Nothing.

Logically, I knew I could move. There was no physical barrier, no real reason for my muscles to refuse the command. It was just a signal traveling from my brain to my hand, a straightforward neurological process. And yet—the signal wasn’t reaching its destination.

Seconds passed, stretching until they felt like hours.

The silence in my room felt suffocating, thick enough to taste, as though the air had become too dense to breathe. Then I heard the creak of her door. Light footsteps. My own door easing open.

I didn’t even have to look. I knew it was her. I knew it the way I knew my own name.I could feel her presence filling the room, cutting through the cold that had settled in my bones, wrapping around me like a blanket warmer than anything I owned.

She didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, watching me. The darkness made it easy to pretend she wasn’t, but I knew better. “You okay?” Her voice was hushed, barely more than a whisper, as if she wasn’t sure if she should be asking.

“Yeah,” I muttered, though I knew it sounded more like a half-hearted attempt to convince both of us.

Beverly didn’t buy it. She huffed a quiet laugh. “Liar,” she said. “Can I come in?”

“Why are you asking like I’m gonna say no?”

Finally, I allowed my gaze to drift toward her, though I could barely see her face, just the soft outlines of her features.

Her hair was a little messy from sleep, her eyes still heavy with it, but her expression was sharp, focused entirely on me. She was wearing one of Dad’s big old T-shirts, hanging loosely over her frame, paired with some worn-out shorts that barely reached her thighs. Her long legs seemed to go on forever, bathed in the soft moonlight that filtered through the window.

For a moment, my mind betrayed me, forcing my gaze to linger on her silhouette longer than it should have.

No . Absolutely not.

With my eyes rolling back in my head, I forced myself to ignore the urge to look closer.

I exhaled sharply, redirecting my focus to the ceiling.

Neural misfire. That’s all it was. A side effect of exhaustion, the mind’s tendency to misinterpret visual stimuli in low light. Meaningless. A trick of the mind in half-asleep state.

It was late, I was tired, and my brain was clearly playing tricks on me. Not something to dwell on.

“Put on some clothes, Beverly.” It came out strained, not quite a groan but close enough.

“I am wearing clothes.”

I forced myself to look away, focusing on the floor, the wall, anything but her. My jaw clenched. “I mean real clothes. Not… that .”

There was a soft click as she shut the door behind her. Then, barely making a sound, she crossed the room.

“You didn’t knock back,” she noted, stopping beside my bed. “You always knock back.”

“Didn’t hear it.”

Lie. She knew it. I knew it. She didn’t call me out on it, though. Instead, she crawled onto my bed without waiting for an invitation, crossing her legs beneath her as if she belonged there.

“Bad one?” she asked softly.

I hesitated, then nodded.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

She didn’t push. She never did.

Instead, she leaned back on her hands, tilting her head at me. “First day wasn’t that bad, though, right?”

“Define bad.”

Her lips twitched. “You met Jamal the Great. That alone should’ve made your day.”

I gave a half-shrug. “Haven’t decided if he’s an idiot or a genius.”

She grinned. “Why not both?”

I smiled, but it faded fast. I ran a hand down my face, still feeling the weight of the nightmare pressing on my chest. It wasn’t as bad now that she was here, but it lingered. It always did.

Beverly shifted closer. “Hey.” She hesitated before pressing her fingers lightly against my wrist. Not grabbing. Just making contact. Just there . “You’re here,” she murmured. “You’re okay.”

The warmth of her touch burned, but in a way that made me want to lean into it instead of away.

Something about it disrupted the lingering effects of the dream, forcing my brain to recalibrate. It was like warmth seeping through ice, slowly cracking it apart, melting it, and making it possible to feel something again.

A reminder that the nightmare wasn’t real, but she was.

“You know,” she said after a moment, her voice dropping into something softer, teasing, “if you wanted me in your bed, you could’ve just said so.” Nudging me with her shoulder, she added, “I’d have understood.”

My head snapped toward her, and she had the nerve to smirk. “That’s what we’re doing? Jokes?” I deadpanned.

“What, too soon?”

I gave her a flat look.

She bit her lip, as if she was trying to hold back a laugh, then nudged me lightly with her knee. “You should get some sleep.”

“I was sleeping,” I said dryly.

“Yeah, and look how well that went.” Without waiting for a response, she tugged at my blanket, pulling it over both of us as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Try again.”

I gave her a puzzled look. “You’re gonna stay here ?”

“Mh-hmm,” she hummed, nuzzling into the sheets like it was her bed and not mine.

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to groan.

Logically,I should’ve told her to go back to her room.

I should have established a boundary. I should’ve told her I was fine, that I didn’t need her to stay. But I didn’t. I let her settle in beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her leg against mine, her shoulder just barely brushing me.

Beverly shifted a little, adjusting the blanket, and I felt the warmth of her leg press more firmly against mine.

I should’ve moved. Should’ve put some space between us.

Instead, I stared at the ceiling, willing my heart to settle. It wasn’t hammering anymore, but it still felt too loud in my chest, like it hadn’t quite caught up with the fact that I was awake now. That I was safe .

Beverly exhaled softly beside me. “Can I ask you something?”

“You’re gonna ask anyway.”

“True.” A pause. “What…what was it about?”

I swallowed. My throat felt tight again, as if my body wanted to shut down at the mere thought of it.

I shook my head. “Don’t know.”

Beverly hummed.

She wasn’t convinced but wasn’t going to push.

We lapsed back into silence, the kind that would’ve been unbearable with anyone else. But Beverly could hear all the things I wasn’t saying, and she didn’t need me to say them.

Eventually, her voice came again, softer this time. “Do you think Jamal’s asleep?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question. “ What ?”

She grinned, though I couldn’t see it—I could hear it.

“Jamal the Great. Think he’s sleeping, or is he somewhere out there, plotting world domination?”

I let out a snort. “He’s definitely awake. No way a mind like his ever rests.”

“Of course. Great minds don’t need sleep.”

I exhaled through my nose, almost a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

I frowned. “What?”

“Jamal.” She nudged my arm with hers. “You like him.”

My frown deepened as I blinked into the darkness.

“I just met him today.”

“Yeah, and?”

“He’s…different.”

“Different is good.”

“I know.”

Beverly hummed thoughtfully. “I think you need that.”

“Go to sleep, Beverly.”

I wasn’t sure if I would be able to sleep again, but if I did, I had a feeling the nightmares wouldn’t be as bad.

The quiet settled again, and for a moment, I thought she had fallen asleep. But then she shifted, rolling onto her side to face me. “You should talk to him more.”

I sighed, my gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “We’ll see.”

“‘We’ll see’ is Blake for ‘I don’t want to, but you’re gonna keep bugging me about it until I do.’”

I let out a slow breath, closing my eyes. “Night, Beverly.”

“Goodnight, Jurassic Park.”

* * *

I didn’t remember falling asleep.

One minute, I was staring at the ceiling, my mind running over every detail of the nightmare I’d had earlier, and the next, I was waking up to the soft warmth of something— someone —curled against me.

I didn’t move at first, didn’t even breathe.

Beverly’s arm was draped across my stomach, her head resting just below my shoulder, her breath warm against my skin. At some point during the night, she must’ve shifted closer, because there was no space between us now, just the heat of her body against mine.

I went completely still. Muscles locked. Breathing shallow.

This was problematic.

Not because of the act itself—humans are wired for warmth, for comfort. There was an evolutionary precedent for seeking physical closeness. It lowered cortisol levels, regulated heartbeats. It wasn’t unreasonable that, in her sleep, Beverly had gravitated toward another human body, especially one she trusted.

My brain processed the situation, breaking it down into facts.

She was asleep.

She had moved unconsciously.

This was a byproduct of proximity, not intention.

It meant nothing.

Still, I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from the ceiling above. I was paralyzed, my body stiff with the realization of how close we were.

Her fingers twitched in her sleep, curling slightly into the fabric of my shirt as though she were holding on to something.

A reflex. Meaningless .

My body, however, remained unconvinced. For a few minutes, I just lay there, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing against me. She was completely relaxed, still lost in sleep, oblivious to the fact that she was practically wrapped around me.

The room was dim, the early morning light just beginning to filter through the curtains. Everything felt hazy, still wrapped in the remnants of sleep.

If I moved, I might wake her. If I didn’t, I might go insane.

Then, Beverly stirred.

She let out a slow breath, shifting slightly, and for a second, I thought she was going to wake up. But instead, she just tightened her grip on me, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt like she wasn’t ready to let go.

My jaw clenched violently. I let my eyes slip closed again, breathing in slowly, willing my heartbeat to steady.

This was fine.

This was nothing.

This was explainable.

Just warmth.

Just comfort.

Just a moment we weren’t supposed to talk about.

But then, as if to shatter the illusion, a loud knock shattered the quiet. I tensed instantly, my pulse skyrocketing.

Beverly groaned softly against me, burying her face into my chest as if she could somehow escape the noise.

The knock came again, followed by a voice. “Blake?”

My blood ran cold.

Dad.

“Shit,” I breathed, violently aware of how tangled we were.

I bolted upright, my heart slamming against my ribs, and Beverly’s eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep. Her brows furrowed slightly, as if she was trying to make sense of the voice pulling her from unconsciousness.

She blinked up at me, her brain still catching up, before realization hit. Her eyes widened, and I saw the panic flash across her face. “ Shit .”

Another knock. “Blake? You awake?”

Beverly scrambled to sit up, nearly elbowing me in the process, and I barely caught her wrist before she could accidentally knock me in the face.

“I… Yeah! I’m up!” My voice came out hoarse, sleep still clinging to it. “Be down in a minute!”

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “Alright. Just making sure. Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

We both sat there, completely still, listening as his footsteps faded down the hall. Only when the house was silent again did we both exhale, our breath coming out in shaky unison.

Beverly flopped back against the mattress, throwing an arm over her face. “ Oh my God. That was close.”

I ran a hand through my hair and choked out, “You think?”

She peeked at me from under her arm, a grin spreading across her face. “You’re blushing.”

I shot her a glare. “I am not.”

“You totally are.”

I was panicking, that’s what I was doing.

What I was not doing was blushing.

“Get out of my bed, Beverly.”

She stretched, unbothered, before finally sitting up. “No need to get all grumpy on me.”

I didn’t say anything as she stood, pushing her hair back from her face. But then she smirked, leaning down slightly. “Sleep well, Jurassic Park?”

I let out a breath through my nose. “You talk too much.”

“For the record, you’re a pretty good pillow?—”

“Out,” I said, pointing at the door.

Rolling her eyes, she moved toward the door, pausing just long enough to add, “Friends are allowed to cuddle, you know. I’ve cuddled with Tiffany, and nobody made a fuss about it.”

“This is definitely different.”

“Why? Because you liked it?”

“I didn’t say that?—”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Beverly,” I warned.

She laughed, then slipped out the door as if she hadn’t just spent the entire night in my bed.

And just like that, she was gone. Leaving me there, still feeling the warmth where she had been.

This couldn’t happen again.

It shouldn’t have happened at all.

I sat there for a long moment, staring at the door like I could somehow undo the last few minutes if I just thought hard enough. Like I could turn back time, make it so Beverly had never crawled into my bed in the first place. But no matter how much I willed it, the truth didn’t change. She had crawled into my bed. She had fallen asleep curled against me.

This wasn’t normal.

Not for us. Not for the way things were supposed to be.

This was bad.

The Price family had taken me in, given me a home, a future. Expectations came with that. Trust came with that. And this—whatever this was—was a betrayal of that trust.

I cursed under my breath, still feeling the weight of her against me, still hearing her sleepy breaths.

Lines existed for a reason. Proximity blurred them. Comfort made them easier to ignore.

Jaw clenched, I shoved the memory aside and forced myself out of bed before it could become something harder to dismiss.

I couldn’t let myself dwell on it.

I wouldn’t.

This was nothing.

Just a mistake of circumstance.

And that was all it would ever be.