Chapter 11 Nora
NORA
I JOLT AWAKE.
My blurry eyes are disorientated as I sit up, staring around an unfamiliar dark room, trying to decipher where I am. Short, fast pants of breath draw my attention to the man beside me, and I recall the last few hours. The shock of it hardly registers as concern climbs up my throat.
Zayden’s chest rises and falls as he twists in the sheets, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead. I blink at him, frozen, unsure of what to do. The grunts coming from him make it seem like he is in pain.
My fingers twitch, the urge to reach for him almost overtaking me, but I pause, afraid I might scare him.
Zayden’s eyes are screwed shut as he struggles to catch his breath, tossing and turning, his leg bucking against mine. My pulse jackhammers but I’m still unsure whether to intervene or let him ride it out.
The room is alarmingly dark, but I can just make out a glimpse of his face from the glow of the monitor lights on the wi-fi router in the corner of his room.
Holding my breath, I slowly reach out, touching my fingers to his arm.
He jerks his arm back, eyes snapping open and I retreat, scooting to the edge of the bed in case he accidentally swings an arm at me.
He doesn’t, though, and looks around as if unaware where he is.
The room is so dark, it’s easy to feel a little lost. I don’t know what time it is, but I imagine it’s the early hours of the morning.
‘Zayden?’ I whisper, hoping that he hasn’t forgotten that I’m here.
His hand reaches for me, touching the top of my hand. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I think you were having a nightmare.’
‘Oh,’ he says softly, voice laced with sleep. ‘Did I scare you?’
‘A little.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Come here,’ he murmurs.
His body is warm, almost too warm. I sink into him, let him wrap his arm around me and ignore how our skin sticks together from his sweat.
I quietly inhale, enjoying the smell of him.
It’s hard to work out exactly what his smell is.
It’s not a cologne, it’s more like … the outdoors.
The breeze. The leaves. Nature, somehow.
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s nice. Even sweaty, the man smells good.
‘Do you get nightmares a lot?’ I ask quietly.
‘Yeah,’ he replies.
‘I used to get night terrors as a kid. It was awful. Vivid images of horrific stuff. I couldn’t believe my mind was able to conjure up some of the things I saw. I think I watched too many things that I shouldn’t have when I was young.’
‘Well, you are a writer,’ he points out. ‘Big imagination. I did, too. Do you have any night terrors now?’
‘Nah, they stopped years ago. I hardly ever have a bad dream now.’
‘That’s good.’ He pauses for a moment, and I wait to see if he’s ready to continue. ‘I never used to. Never had issues sleeping. In fact, I slept so long and so deep, my mum used to joke it was like I was in a coma.’
‘Then it changed?’ I guess, treading lightly, knowing that this may be a sensitive topic for him. I’m assuming this has something to do with what happened with his stepfather.
‘Yeah,’ he exhales. ‘I was meant to be out one night but had to run home to grab something. No idea what it even was now, and I found my stepfather with his work colleague. She had dropped by to deliver paperwork apparently. Didn’t realise that involved his mouth on hers and his hand up her skirt.
I confronted him about it after she left. ’
I stare ahead, chewing my lip, barely breathing as a weighted silence fills the room.
‘I can still feel his hands on me. Hitting me over and over. Holding me down. His hand around my throat. The threat in my ear as he told me he’d kill me and hurt Anya if I said anything.
’ My eyes close. I press my forehead into his side and tighten my hold on him.
He runs his knuckles down my back. ‘That’s what wakes me up at night.
Not every night, but when I’m really tired, he’s there.
Even though he’s dead now, he still haunts me.
I just keep seeing my mum’s face when I told her. ’
‘I’m so sorry, Zayden,’ I whisper, tears burning my eyes. ‘No one in your family deserved that.’
‘I can take a beating. Hell, I’ve been in plenty of fights. What hurts is my mother turning her back on me when I told her what happened. I still had the damn bruises on my skin and she said I was lying. I just … can’t let that go.’
‘I don’t blame you. That is the most awful thing to have gone through, and then for her to say and do that … it’s honestly unimaginable.’
‘I don’t get it. I could have protected her. I would have done anything for her, but she couldn’t do the same for me.’
I don’t know what to say. Sorry just isn’t enough. My heart aches for him. The pain in his voice hurts to hear. A tear slides down my cheek and I sniffle, rolling onto my back to breathe easier and wipe my face.
‘I’m okay,’ he says, wiping the tear from my cheek. ‘It’s over now, I have to get over it.’
‘You don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen. It doesn’t work like that.’
‘Yeah,’ he mutters. ‘I know.’
‘Thank you for sharing that with me. I know that wasn’t easy for you.’
‘I didn’t speak a word of it for so long, until I had to tell Anya. It feels weird acknowledging it. Like, the longer I spent not talking about it, the more likely it would fade into oblivion.’
‘Have you ever thought of talking to a professional about it?’ I ask, a little nervous that he might take my question in a way I didn’t intend.
‘No,’ he says. ‘I’m not very good at talking about things.’
‘It can be hard. I get that.’
Removing his arm, he rolls out of bed and disappears into the bathroom for a moment. I hear the sound of running water and the shower door opening and closing. After a minute or so, he returns, falling back beside me.
‘Sorry for waking you.’
‘It’s no problem.’
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ he mumbles, pressing his lips to my temple, pulling me closer.
I am in Zayden’s bed.
I am in Zayden Stark’s bed.
The last twenty-four hours feels like a fever dream.
The incident with my roommates, skinny-dipping in the pool, the feel of his tongue between my thighs, the deep conversation we had in the early hours of this morning …
I’m half convinced I’ve slept extremely heavily and made the entire thing up.
However, when I open my eyes, I see that a muscled, tattooed arm is slung over my stomach as Zayden lays face down into his pillow.
Swallowing, my eyes trail over that delicious bicep, crawling over to his defined, bare back.
I feel refreshed. Like I had a long, deep sleep.
In the beginning, I felt too wired to fall asleep next to him, but the moment I laid my head on his chest, sleep swallowed me whole.
Slowly, I reach over to the bedside table and tap my finger on my phone screen.
When it lights up, my mouth falls open. How the hell is it eleven a.m.?
I cannot remember the last time I slept this late.
‘Oh my God,’ I blurt. ‘The day is gone.’
‘Huh?’ Zayden’s deep voice mumbles as he turns his head, rubbing his eyes.
‘It’s so late! The whole day has passed!’
Frowning, he peers over at his own phone. ‘It’s only eleven.’
‘Only eleven?’ I blink at him.
‘We are two different people …’ Zayden trails off, an amused smile on his face. ‘Good morning, by the way.’
Hearing Zayden say good morning in that sexy, raspy tone of his has something fluttering somewhere I should not be feeling flutters.
‘What are your plans for the day?’ I ask.
‘Is this something you do? Have your whole day planned out before you’ve even got out of bed?’ he queries, rolling onto his side and lazily staring up at me. The sheet slips, revealing his wonderful torso, and it requires a lot of self-control not to simply stare and drool.
‘As a matter of fact, yes. I have a to-do list every day that I tick off.’
Zayden releases a low chuckle. ‘Of course you do.’
‘It keeps me productive.’
‘Right.’ He scrubs a hand down his face. ‘I owe you a feed.’
I crack a smile. I love the way he speaks. ‘You owe me “a feed”?’
‘Yeah. A mad, big, fuck-off feed.’
I snort. ‘I don’t know what you mean by that, but I am intrigued.’
‘Just you wait.’
Zayden stretches, and I can’t hide the fact that I ogle him as he does.
Rolling out of bed, he pushes to his feet and strolls into the bathroom.
Dressed in only his black shorts, I get to admire his body.
Peeling myself off his dangerously comfortable mattress, I trot down the hallway and rummage through my things.
I spend some time making myself presentable and by the time I’m finished, Zayden has moved to the kitchen and I can hear something sizzling in the frypan.
Sunlight filters through the room and I pull open the back sliding glass door, allowing the breeze to come in.
I love their house. It’s open, quiet and calm.
I much prefer spending my time here than in my crappy apartment filled with even crappier human beings.
I still can’t believe they locked me out of my own apartment …
did I get transported back to high school?
‘What are you thinking about?’ Zayden asks.
‘A lot of things,’ I admit. ‘Last night, mainly.’
He does a terrible job fighting the smirk off of his face. ‘Which part of last night?’
A blush kisses my cheeks and I duck my head. ‘All of it.’
‘I see.’
Dropping into one of the seats perched beside the kitchen island, I lean forward, resting my chin in the palm of my hand, watching Zayden move effortlessly around the kitchen.
‘I used to be a terrible cook,’ he says.
‘Mason was the one who cooked or did anything good in the kitchen. He manned the barbecue, and everything he cooked was insanely good. When he moved overseas, I really missed it. So, I started watching some cooking shows and I guess I hyper-fixated on it because it became my whole personality for, like, three months.’
‘It’s a good skill to have. I wish I was better in the kitchen.’