Chapter 12 #2
The click of my apartment door closing pulls me toward wakefulness just as I’m drifting at the edge of sleep, the kind that’s thick and comforting. I initially think the guys must have left, and a pang of disappointment hits me—sad that the pleasant weight of their presence is gone.
But then, I notice how warmth is wrapped around my feet, hands gently holding them, and another hand strokes the top of my head, the touch feather-light and surprisingly soothing. I’m so content and utterly cozy that I savor it.
Maybe it’s the tail end of a dream, but I’m not ready to let go just yet.
“Should we wake her?” Grey’s voice, barely a whisper, breaks the silence. His tone is low, uncharacteristically gentle, floating through the air like a delicate mist.
I’m tempted to respond, to open my eyes and rejoin the conscious world, but this moment is too precious.
Instead, I remain still, feigning sleep a bit longer, basking in the rare feeling of being cared for.
The hand on my hair pauses then resumes its soothing motion, and I can’t suppress the small, contented smile that curves my lips.
“She’s already awake,” Oliver murmurs, amusement in his voice.
Busted.
As I blink my eyes open, the first thing I see is Oliver’s face hovering above mine, his green eyes looking down with a gentle concern.
His glasses have slid slightly down his nose, and with a deft touch of his finger, he pushes them back into place.
A soft smile plays across his lips, and the proximity sends a flutter through my heart, making it skip a beat.
My gaze then drifts along the length of the couch, tracing the outline of my body until it reaches Misha at the other end.
His black curls are tousled, and there’s a weary softness in his eyes—eyes that seem like they themselves could have used the nap I just had.
Nonetheless, he grins at me and gives my feet a gentle squeeze.
Boundaries, Amelia.
Reacting to his touch, I withdraw my feet from his hold and sit upright. Grey is standing in front of the coffee table, holding four boxes of pizzas, making my stomach rumble loudly.
“What time is it? I didn’t mean to sleep for so long.” I yawn, taking off my glasses to rub my eyes.
“It’s all right. Your day was shitty. We just hope you’re really into pizza with fried eggs on it. If not, this could be dicey,” Misha cringes, laughing.
“How did you know?” I ask, puzzled.
“I looked up your preferences from earlier pizza deliveries and let them know,” Jamie answers and a weight lifts off my chest.
“Jamie,” I breathe out, wide awake now, looking around as if he would be in the room with us. “You’re back? And you remember me?”
“Of course I do, Amelia.”
“Yeah, Jamie’s online and probably judging us all harshly for our pizza choices. But yours is the worst.” Grey’s trademark smirk grows even bigger when I scowl at him. “I restored him with your backup, so he remembers every interaction.”
Somehow, I didn’t even think about him having a backup of our time together.
Something to think about.
Later.
When I’m not groggy, medicated, and hungry.
“Thank you,” I whisper, meaning it. I can’t even tell them how much this means to me.
Probably better this way.
“All right, let’s eat. I’m starving,” Misha commands, and Grey hands out the pizzas and sets some water bottles on the coffee table.
“Do we need anything from the kitchen?” I ask, readying to stand, but Grey pushes my pizza box at me.
“Nope, we’ll eat with our hands, like it’s supposed to be.”
Huh, I’m more stuck up than he is for once.
Oliver grimaces.
Something else we have in common.
I set down my box and head to the kitchen to grab some forks and knives for him and myself, as well as some napkins for everyone. Smiling gratefully, Oliver takes the cutlery from my hand before I sit back next to him.
“Wow, she already pegged him right after just a day of knowing each other,” Misha tells Grey, who huffs a laugh.
“Not true. He and I have a long coffee break history,” I mutter while slicing my first bite of pizza. I marvel at the gooey yolk that oozes over the crisp crust and groan a little as I put it in my mouth.
The richness of the fried egg blends perfectly with the tangy tomato sauce.
I feel Oliver’s gaze on me, so I turn to look at him, and he stares so openly my stomach sinks.
Did I say something stupid?
Damn, I’m not used to having casual conversations.
I don’t know where all my introversion has gone over the past few hours, but this, this feels so effortless—at least when I’m not fucking up.
Misha takes a bite of his salami pizza, and I glance at Oliver’s, which seems to be a Margherita, while Grey’s is topped with parmesan and eggplant.
Grey grabs the remote and asks, “Should we start from the beginning? Or do you know that one, Amelia?”
I look up at the television, only now noticing the grainy, vintage still of the movie paused on screen.
A group of figures in ragged, primitive costumes huddles around a large, tattered flag planted firmly in the sand.
The film’s iconic imagery suddenly clicks—those distinctive costumes, the desolate landscape…
Planet of the Apes?
“Well, I know of it, never watched it, if it is the one I think it is.”
He shakes his head, huffing out a breath as if it’s audacious not to know that film.
Yeah, sure, I’m the audacious one.
“All right, we’ll watch from the beginning, but just so you know, your TV is shit, so next time we’ll do this at our place.”
Next time?
“Why is my TV shit?” I ask instead.
“It’s not your TV. It’s just that we have a screen with a 4K projector and a really good sound system,” Misha explains, his mouth full.
“And we have all the movie collections on our account. The only decent old-school Sci-Fi I could find was that one, and I’m definitely not watching Twilight again,” Grey adds, shuddering, which sends a wave of embarrassment through me.
Feeling my cheeks heat up, I ask, “Why are you saying that?”
I didn’t talk in my sleep, did I?
“It was paused when he turned on the TV,” Oliver mumbles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile.
Misha opens a bottle and hands it to me. We all eat and drink, watching the movie in silence, and when we’re done, Grey stands, collecting all the boxes and bottles.
“Thanks, Grey,” I say as I hand him mine. Despite his rough edges, he’s shown up today in ways I didn’t expect.
All of them did.
I settle back into the couch as the lights start to dim automatically, signaling that Jamie is thoroughly integrated back into my system. My eyelids are heavy, and the events of the day are catching up with me for the second time now that my stomach is full and it’s getting late.
I should probably tell them to leave, apologize, and thank them again, but I can’t muster the energy. I’m completely exhausted. Besides, they’ve proven they wouldn’t listen, anyway.
The last thing I hear before my eyes finally close is Misha’s chuckle, then sleep pulls me under once more. As I drift off, I feel a gentle hand tucking a blanket around me, the simple act of kindness anchoring me in a way that feels surprisingly like home.