Chapter 13
I t’s official: this bed is cursed.
I huff as I toss and turn, flipping myself over onto the other side of the bed. I’ve got one arm under my pillow, one foot dangling off the side of the mattress, and the covers have somehow magically turned themselves upside down while only covering about a third of my body. I am both freezing and sweating at the same time, and even Princess has had enough of my restlessness. She begrudgingly withdrew herself to a pillow on the floor after my fifth change of position.
I’ve been trying to fall asleep for approximately three hours now (even though it feels like about a gazillion years), and I’m pretty much ready to call it quits. My racing mind won’t quiet itself no matter how hard I try, so I just have to accept the fact that I will be getting absolutely zero sleep.
The current stars of tonight’s never-ending thought cycle are my parents—already my least favorite topic. It’s no surprise I would be thinking about them after spending the entire evening with Veda’s family, but knowing that still doesn’t make it an easier pill to swallow.
I would give anything to be close with my parents like Veda is with hers. For them to want to see me on my birthday so badly that they’d go out of their way to drive across state lines. That they’d bring balloons and party hats just to make me smile, even if it was slightly embarrassing. That I would see them more than a couple of times a year.
If you miss them so much, why don’t you call them?
That question has been nagging at my brain all night. The truth of the matter is, that’s just not the kind of relationship we have. Even if I did call them up right now (make that tomorrow morning), I know exactly how it would go.
They’d sound excited to talk to me at first and we’d have a perfectly pleasant conversation for all of two minutes before we’d run out of things to talk about. Because we don’t really know each other anymore. We don’t know what’s going on in each other’s lives, and at this point, there’s about five years worth to catch up on. So we don’t.
Then it would get quiet and awkward and I’d remember the reason I distanced myself from them in the first place, and finally one of us would say they have to go and hang up.
That’s just how every conversation with them goes, and I’ve accepted that to be my life. I try not to compare my relationship with them to others, really I do. But seeing Veda’s family argue over who gets to be closest to Meera when she goes to university just reminds me that my parents didn’t even bat an eye when I moved halfway across the country.
To make matters worse, every time I try to think about something else (or, after the first hour of tossing and turning, try to turn my thoughts off altogether), the same person creeps back into the corner of my mind: Eli .
I’m mad at myself for freaking out on him this morning when we were just starting to get to know each other, when he was finally starting to open up to me. And I’m worried that I’ve ruined everything because I got a little freaked.
So what if we fell asleep in the same bed? Nothing happened between us. We both woke up fully clothed and equally confused. We’re also grown adults, so it really couldn’t be less of a big deal.
And yet… A little part of me liked it. I liked waking up next to him, liked falling asleep next to another person. Maybe that’s what freaked me out. I shouldn’t have liked it, not since I make it a point to never rely on anyone else for my happiness. It’s too risky. It gives them too much power over me, and you never know when they’ll decide to yank that happiness away.
I turn over once more, resenting how much easier it was to fall asleep with him by my side. It was warm, comforting, safe. Now I find myself missing the smell of cologne and laundry detergent, and the feel of his shirt against my cheek.
Maybe I should just go talk to him, clear the air.
The thought pops into my head for the third time tonight, and I finally give in. It’s worth a shot. I can apologize and make amends so everything can go back to normal, that way it won’t have to be awkward between us tomorrow. It’s a great idea, I decide. I’ll stop torturing myself, and with any luck, I’ll finally be able to get some shut-eye.
I kick off what little blankets remain on my legs and drag myself out of bed, trudging out of my room in my half-zonked-out state. The hallway is pitch black as I pad over to his door, wincing at each squeaky floorboard that announces my presence. It is kind of late after all. The middle of the night, in fact .
Had I considered the possibility that he might already be asleep? Sure, he normally stays out until this time anyway, but still… That’s no guarantee he’ll be up. He was already in his room when I got home from dinner with the girls, and now as I take my final steps toward his door, I realize there’s no light coming from the crack underneath it.
He’s totally asleep.
This was a stupid sleep-deprived idea, and I just wasted two minutes of my life.
I lower the hand that was primed to knock on his door, deciding tomorrow morning will work just as well to swallow my pride. Waking him up probably isn’t the best way to start off an apology, and frankly, it’s not his problem that my guilt is keeping me up.
I start slowly creeping back over to my room, cursing at the squeaky floorboards, until about three steps in when I hear his door creak open.
“Looking for someone?” he calls out, his voice all sexy and gravelly.
Crap .
I turn back and pray my cheeks aren’t as pink as they feel, putting on my most casual smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, good!” I sputter, relief washing over me. “I couldn’t sleep either, actually. Suffice to say it’s been a day… Anyway, I just wanted to come and say sorry for this morning—for the way I reacted.”
He leans against the doorframe and folds his arms over his chest, seeming amused. “You mean for the way you kicked me out of your room right after we slept together? ”
“Correction: slept next to each other. Your way makes it sound so much worse.”
He chuckles and raises his eyebrow at me, and for a second I think he’s flirting with me.
Must be my imagination.
“Okay, I admit it. I got freaked,” I say, cheeks turning from bubblegum pink to crimson red. “I haven’t woken up next to a man in a long time—like, way longer than whatever you’re thinking. Apparently I don’t deal with surprises well.”
“To be fair, I can confidently say that was my first time sleeping with a woman without actually… sleeping with her. So it was new territory for me, too.”
I smile gratefully, glad it wasn’t only weird for me. “Does this mean we don’t have to avoid eye contact tomorrow at breakfast?”
“We could have a full-on staring contest if you want to.”
“Great. I look forward to winning.”
Silence ensues, and I swear I can smell his scent from across the hallway. It sends a butterfly twirling through my stomach and makes me realize I need to get the hell out of here before I say—or do— something I’ll regret. I can’t trust myself around him; he’s like a siren. A delicious-smelling siren.
“Well, goodnight. Thanks for… I don’t know, just thanks.” I give him a small salute, turning on my heel to head back to my room in a hurry.
“Wait,” he calls out, and I stop in my tracks. “You said you had ‘a day’. What happened?”
My stomach is officially a butterfly sanctuary.
“Nothing, really. It’s stupid.”
I can feel his eyes on me from across the hallway, poking holes in my walls. “I doubt that. ”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you up.”
“Gemma,” he says, the sound of my name drilling a hole through my gut. “You can tell me. I want to know.”
Gulp .
See? Siren.
And yet… I kind of do want to talk about it. About my parents. It’s been so long of keeping everything to myself, of pushing it down and pretending it was fine when it wasn’t. Of hiding that part of my life from Veda and Cassie when all I really want to do is let it all out and move past it.
And now, for the first time since I moved here, I feel almost comfortable talking to someone about it.
Maybe it’s the fact that Eli is a temporary person in my life. That after next week, we won’t ever see each other again. I can tell him anything and it won’t matter, kind of like when you write down a secret and then burn the paper (Cassie and I once did that after her spiritual coach recommended it to her. It was surprisingly freeing).
Either way, for once I find that there are no alarm bells going off in my head at the idea of opening up about my parents. And it feels good.
“You know how it was my friend’s birthday today?” I start, the words falling out of my mouth before my anxiety can shove them back in.
“Veda, right?”
He remembers her name.
“Yeah,” I manage before I start picking at my nails to avoid eye contact. “Her family drove down from Philly just to have dinner with us for a couple hours at her favorite restaurant, and they brought balloons and party hats and—it was all really adorable. ”
“Oh yeah, sounds awful,” he mocks, making it easier for me to look back up at him with annoyance. “Kidding, carry on.”
“It’s just that… It made me think about my parents and my relationship with them, which is nowhere near as stellar, to say the least.”
“You’re not close with your family?” he asks, eyes dipping into a frown.
“Not really. I mean, I’m not estranged from them or anything, but we don’t talk much.”
I’m waiting for the pang of hurt to hit me, for the memories to come flooding back, and for my heart to ache at the mention of them. But it doesn’t come. Instead, I start to feel about one percent lighter just saying the words out loud.
“Any particular reason?”
I let out a big sigh, eyes firmly planted back on my nails. “I was a navy brat. My dad moved us around the country so many times I lost count, and it really sucked. I never got to have the things normal kids had, like long-term friendships or a room that felt like my own. After the third move, we stopped bothering to repaint my room or make it my own altogether, so it always felt like a stranger’s…”
The words are pouring out of me, coming out fast and strained like if I say them quickly enough, they can’t hurt me.
“And I could never make plans for school breaks or holidays with my friends because I never knew where I’d be when they rolled around, I gave up on having birthday parties when I was eleven because everyone I knew was scattered across the country and—hell, I wasn’t even allowed to have a dog even though I desperately wanted one.”
“Is that why you do the dog-sitting?” he asks softly, in complete contrast to the strain in my voice .
“Pretty much. They said it would be ‘too traumatic’ for a dog to have to move around so often and be in unfamiliar environments. And I just remember thinking, But it’s not too traumatic for your own daughter ? I used to cry my eyes out, begging them not to make us move again… It was the worst feeling in the world knowing their answer before they even had to say it. Made me feel like what I wanted didn’t matter, like my feelings never mattered. All in all, I guess my childhood was just lonely.”
That feeling of lightness increases to ten percent, and I brace myself to look up at him again. I’m not exactly sure what I’m expecting—pity, sadness, disbelief—but I find something that looks a lot like understanding on his face.
“Want to sit down?” he finally says, gesturing toward his room, and suddenly I realize how unstable my legs feel.
I nod and follow him inside, feeling a mix of emotions I don’t quite know how to describe. Comfort? Companionship? The feeling of being truly heard? He sits down on the left side of the bed, waiting for me to join him in the near darkness of his room, and I freeze.
“I won’t bite, you know,” he teases.
It’s not you I’m worried about.
I shuffle over and manage to sit on the furthest possible edge of his bed, hoping his charm won’t be able to reach me all the way over here.
“So,” he starts, his eyes boring into me through the darkness like he can see right down to my soul. And then it’s quiet.
He’s waiting patiently, like he’s giving me the space to say anything else I might want to say. I’m not used to it, this feeling of being completely listened to. Of having someone’s undivided attention. And I don’t know what else to say .
“That must have been awful,” he finally offers when nothing else comes out of my mouth. “I wasn’t a military kid, but I had a couple friends growing up who were. I missed them a lot when they moved away.”
Remember that achy heart I thought I had avoided about five minutes ago? Well, here it is.
He reaches his hand out toward me, and all the heavy emotions swirling around in my brain meet with flutters. Warmth spreads to my aching heart when he rests his fingers on top of mine with that same look of understanding on his face.
“Thanks, Eli,” I say, but it comes out closer to a whisper.
He rubs the top of my hand with his thumb, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Look, I don’t know if it’s any consolation, but I get what you meant by that last part you said. About growing up lonely.”
“You do..?”
“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I also have some complicated feelings when it comes to my parents.”
“I may have had an inkling,” I joke, admittedly curious to find out what the deal with his family was. I knew he’d alluded to having a rocky relationship with them before, but I never thought he’d be willing to talk to me about it. Until now.
“It doesn’t really compare to your childhood, but I wasn’t very close with my parents either.”
I nod and scooch back on the bed, turning toward him to give him that same undivided attention he gave me. A flash of hesitation crosses his eyes for the briefest of moments before he lets out a long breath.
“My parents weren’t around much when I was growing up. They were workaholics, so they barely had time for me and Tobias. Don’t get me wrong, my life has been so much more fortunate than most people. And I know that. But at the end of the day, my parents had an empire to run and Tobias and I were just kind of… in the way.”
“Sounds like they weren’t exactly the nurturing type?”
“You could say that,” he rasps. “Tobias ended up filling in for the most part. I guess he didn’t want me to feel helpless like he did, being the older brother and all… He’s the one who came to all my graduations. He’s the one who’d take me to the park, help me with my homework, give me advice when I needed it.
“Forget family dinners; it was a miracle if our parents ever made it back in time to eat with us. It was basically like until we started going to grad school and could be prepped to take over the company, we were just an investment they were waiting to cash in on.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting his story to be, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. The similarities between our mommy-and-daddy issues aren’t lost on me, and suddenly that feeling of understanding starts to make sense. Even though we grew up on complete opposite ends of the social class scale, it seems like we both shared one thing in common: wanting more. More closeness, more stability, more normalcy… Things we still seem to be lacking to this day.
At the very least, I realize I have to be thankful that my parents were always around for the big moments. I can’t imagine looking out at the crowd of my high school graduation and not seeing their smiling faces cheering me on.
“That’s why I can’t tell my brother that I was kicked out,” he adds, and I can hear the ache in his voice. “I can’t disappoint him, not after all he’s done for me.”
I turn my hand over and squeeze his, wishing there was something I could say to numb the memory. But that’s the thing about pasts: no matter how far you run or how many walls you put up, it’s always one step behind you, taunting you.
“For what it’s worth, I think he’s proud of you for everything you’ve been able to accomplish,” I say, hoping he can tell how much I mean it. “One little hiccup isn’t going to change that.”
He lets out a sigh and leans back against the headboard, giving me a grateful smile I can just barely see thanks to the city lights shining in through the window.
“I tried to tell him once, you know. That first day I got kicked out, I came straight here to tell him before he left for his trip. Made it all the way to the building’s front door before I backed out.” Something flickers in his eyes before they meet mine. “That’s when I ran into you.”
Oh. Crap.
I was hoping I was wrong about that particular incident.
“So that was you!” I exclaim, heat rushing to my cheeks as the memory of how rude I was plays in my mind. “I’m so sorry for snapping at you like that, I was running late and I was stressed out and—”
“Don’t be. I’m glad I met you that day.”
The heat from my cheeks moves south toward my chest, wrapping me in a heavenly embrace. How is it that he always knows exactly the right thing to say? I’m starting to realize just how much I’ll miss that charm of his when he leaves.
I lean back beside him and lay my head on one of the multiple down pillows adorning his bed, tiredness taking over now. My mind is finally silencing itself, the parade of thoughts dimming out.
“I don’t usually tell people that stuff. About my family,” I confide, turning my head to peek at him on the pillow next to me.
“Me neither.”
Somehow, knowing that makes me feel kind of special.
“Alright, I have one final question for you, should you choose to accept.”
“Just one? Somehow I find that hard to believe,” he says, coking an eyebrow in my direction.
“Just one for tonight, then.”
His nod is my signal to get it over with, so I proceed with ample caution. “Do I finally get to know why you were kicked out of your dorm..?”
He laughs like he was expecting much worse, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“It’s not all that interesting. I threw a party, which I wasn’t supposed to do, and it got a little rowdy. Someone ended up breaking a window and that’s when the RA busted me. I got blamed for the damage and since I already had two strikes,” He juts his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m out.”
“That doesn’t seem right. You’re not the one who broke the window, why should you get in trouble for it?”
“To be fair, I hadn’t exactly been a stellar resident up until that point. I’d already gotten in trouble for having—how shall I put it?— unauthorized guests sleep over,” he grins. “So I can’t blame them. I kind of think it was the reality check I needed to clean up my act, you know? Made me realize if my options are mooching off my brother, going back to live with my parents, or finally acting like an adult and being self-sufficient, I’d choose the latter.”
Wow, honesty and self-reflection. Must be nice to have that level of maturity.
“What if you offered to pay for the damage and promised not to break any more rules? Is there any way they’d let you back in on some kind of probation?”
“I filed an appeal asking for exactly that, actually. The housing committee had me fill out a couple forms, but I haven’t heard back yet,” he says, turning his gaze to the floor.
Silence ensues as my eyes start to grow heavier, but I can’t bring myself to leave and go back to my own bedroom. Maybe it’s this newfound feeling of mutual understanding between us that keeps me glued to his side, like I’ve finally found the one person in the world who gets me. The logical part of my brain is telling—nay, urging —me to leave before I fall asleep again. But I don’t know if I want to listen to it.
“Well, I’m glad you had somewhere you could go. That you weren’t alone,” I finally utter.
The twinkle of his eyes catches the light as they meet mine, and I hope he can’t feel my racing heartbeat through my fingertips.
“Sometimes I think that’s why I come here so often. Or why I’m always going out. Because I hate being alone. I don’t know, maybe that’s why I fell asleep with you last night. It just felt… comfortable.”
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze as his own eyes start to close, and I decide once and for all that I’m not leaving tonight. We may well be full-grown adults with attachment issues, communication problems, and boundaries that could definitely use some work, but I decide that right now, we’re just two people who need a friend.
And that’s okay.
“You’re not alone tonight,” I say as I finally give in to the sleepiness and allow my heavy eyelids to close.
I let the warmth of his bed and the echo of his words surround me as we both drift off, glad for once not to be alone either.