Chapter 23 #2
Anticipation kicks my pulse up a notch as I quietly walk to the back porch, on the opposite side of where my bedroom is. I check the cameras again to make sure she’s still watching TV, blissfully unaware, then carefully unlock the door and creep into the house.
She continues to suspect nothing.
My phone alerts with my presence, and I turn it off before it can make any more sounds. The last time I surprised her while she was in my bed, I made as much noise as possible to play with her.
Now, I’m tiptoeing through my own house because I’m an asshole who wants to catch her off guard.
I’m halfway up the stairs before I hear her; there’s a softest snore that’s almost undetectable beneath the low murmur of the TV.
I really admire her ability to sleep at the drop of a hat.
I don’t bother with keeping quiet anymore, walking up the steps and into my room to stand at the foot of my bed. Seeing her lying in my space on-screen is nothing compared to witnessing it in the flesh.
Mina’s dark hair fans around her while she clutches my pillow to her chest. She should be holding me instead, but that’s a scenario that will be frequently played out in our foreseeable future.
Her scent is mingling with mine, and she’s already fallen into her role so perfectly, taking up the left side like she knows I’ve already claimed the right.
The shitty replacement phone she’s ignoring me with is on the bedside table. She must have left her shoes and coat in the downstairs room because they are nowhere in sight.
For the first time since I’ve taken up watching her sleep like it’s my full-time job, she stirs. It’s slow at first. She straightens, stretching out as a yawn makes her tremble slightly. Then her slender hands come up to rub her face and scratch the back of her neck.
I look forward to witnessing this sight play out every morning for the rest of our lives.
Her eyes peel open, and she stares, half conscious, at the doorway leading out into the hall and down the stairs.
I give her a couple more seconds to smarten up and notice me.
She doesn’t.
Her eyelids sag like she’s about to fall back asleep, and I take it as my cue to wake her up.
“Visiting from LA?”
Perhaps that was a rude awakening because she jolts upright, with one leg out of the bed, ready to make a run for it.
Our stares crash into each other’s, and it’s like the moment of reckoning when the world tips on its axis. For one split second, everything feels right, as if I can finally breathe and the world isn’t going to be yanked from beneath my feet.
There’s no threat to my career, or that constant, itching need to see her.
She’s in my bed. In my sights. Wearing my shirt, beneath my sheets, under my roof. She’s close enough to touch, and not just pixels on a screen, and I can take her in without fear of being caught.
Mina’s eyes are comically wild and frantic—what I’d imagine a cartoon character would look like when they’re caught somewhere they shouldn’t be.
It’s not how I wanted this to go, but it’s what I expected nonetheless. In my fantasy, she’d just be shocked and then elated to end this whole charade, but she doesn’t know what I know. This isn’t a level playing field.
And I didn’t want yesterday to be the catalyst. I was hoping we could play a different song and dance before the curtains rise.
Yet here we are. And she doesn’t look . . . pleased.
The heavy bags under her eyes feel like a punch to the stomach. The red lining them is the killing blow. Whoever destroyed her apartment may have handed me the means to bring us closer, but he forfeited his life for coming into her space. Once I find him, he’s a dead man.
Unless her mother is the reason she cried. In which case, I could find it in me to come to terms with killing a woman.
I grab the strawberry-flavored lip balm out of a nearby cupboard and throw it onto the bed beside her. “You forgot this here last month.”
And the purple shirt that’s now in my drawer.
Or, at least, I think she did. It’s hard to keep track of what I’ve taken from her place and what she’s left at mine.
If her eyes widen any more, they’re going to fall right out of her head. She’s stock-still, lips parted like she’s trying to decide between fight or flight.
It’s rather amusing seeing her brain spin a thousand miles per hour. Yesterday, when she looked at me like a deer in headlights, I knew letting the skeletons out of our closets would be both liberating and downright fucking maddening.
How am I expected to keep my hands to myself when she’s finally looking at me? We’re close enough to touch, and she’s awake for every moment of it. I never knew that the sunlight would catch on the golden flecks in her irises. Or that her bottom lip would cast that much shadow along her chin.
For a moment, I’m simply content to look at her, then that isn’t enough. I need to hear her speak and for her to stop glancing at the fucking door like she’s seriously considering running from me.
Mina says nothing. Neither do I.
I can tell she has a hundred questions on the tip of her tongue, but when her only reaction is to gawk at me for the ensuing ten seconds, I decide to put us both out of our misery.
“Word from the wise: check whether a house has internal cameras or not before making a habit of breaking in without hiding your face.”
Her mouth opens and closes, and anger flickers through me when she glances at the door again before darting her eyes around the room, presumably in search of the cameras. Slowly, she reaches for her glasses and slides them on. The delicate bump in her throat bobs when our stares meet again.
“Y-you know who I am?”
A sick thrill runs down my spine at the sound of her voice. Yes. This is what I’ve been missing. Hearing her through the phone doesn’t do the real thing justice. There’s the barest husky touch that turns her whispered words molten.
Carefully, but with the confidence of a man who’s in his own space, I take a step forward so that my legs hit the end of the bed.
“Mina,” I confirm, and watch with rapt attention as she suppresses a shudder. “Or would you prefer to be called JT?”
The sharp intake of breath makes me want to gloat. I know everything there is to know about Mina. I’ve never been into academia, but I have no doubt I could write pages about every minute part of her existence, and all the ways I see her for the woman she is.
“How long have you known?” I hate the hint of fear laced in her voice.
“Which part?”
Her eyes dart between mine. “W-who I am.”
“You messaged me first, remember?” She’s a delight to tease. Especially when worry makes way for embarrassment, and her cheeks go as red as they are now.
Her forehead pinches. “Could mean since the beginning or since . . . that account.”
A slow smile works its way across my face. There’s that spark she’s been missing. That hint of irritation.
I feel her watching me from the room as I move to unlock a door in the hallway, then step inside, out of view.
No one needs to see what’s in my small office.
There are enough spare cameras here to make my eye twitch.
Not to mention, if she gets into my computer, she’ll see the extent of my integration into her life.
I rummage around to find what I’m looking for, then stride back out, locking the door behind me.
Mina watches me carefully, in the same spot, coiled and ready to run at the drop of a hat. She flinches when I chuck the box onto the bed. A muscle tics in my jaw.
“Get rid of that crap you’re using.” I nod at the phone her mother gave her. Mina can have the one I bought recently but hadn’t gotten around to changing my SIM card over.
I stare at her, waiting for her to do more than gawk at what I’ve given her.
When she continues to say nothing, I take it as my cue to leave. We have time to talk later. Once she comes to terms with her new reality. She can’t avoid it.
“I’m late for practice.”
Just as I turn to leave, my phone vibrates with a text.
Jack Norton: Where are you?
My mouth tastes bitter seeing his name on the screen. It worsens when I reply with something other than “Fuck off.”
Leo: Got caught up. Be there soon.
I shake my head and keep walking. This was supposed to be a good morning. We were supposed to be making real fucking progress, and she barely spoke. Didn’t even smile.
Reminding myself that she’s probably still shaken up from yesterday does nothing to ease the tension.
“Wait!”
I stop at the top of the stairs. A seed of hope dares to plant itself. Slowly, I turn to look at her, but like before, the seconds tick on as she opens and closes her mouth.
Come on, Mina. Give me what I want.
She doesn’t.
Like before, I break the silence. As they say, this is the first day of the rest of our lives. We need to walk before we run and catch bees with honey or whatever bullshit.
“I have last night’s game loaded up on the bedroom TV. All you need to do is turn it on,” I tell her. She either watches the games live or the next day. A fact she never shared with me.
That realization must dawn on her because she pales.
I continue, but pause a couple steps down and throw over my shoulder, “Oh, before I forget, I’ve ordered in breakfast. Leave out whatever you don’t finish. I hate what it tastes like when it’s been microwaved. Keep my bed warm. I’ll see you this afternoon.”