50
Valentina
Groaning, I gently shove Huxley, hoping he’ll stop being so restless.
We’ve been sleeping together almost every night since Halloween, and sometimes he gets like this.
Most nights are easy. A gentle shove to his shoulder and he’ll roll towards me, pulling me closer. Sometimes it takes a bit more effort. Like tonight.
Huxley stirs underneath me again. “Val.”
My eyes fly open. I quickly push myself up and look down at him. His eyes are closed tight, his hand gripping the bed sheet.
“Huxley?” I put my hand on his chest, and his breath catches, like he’s gasping for air. A thin layer of sweat coats his forehead as he pulls at the sheet.
“Wake up, Huxley. Please.”
“Val…” he gasps. “Help…”
Tears roll down my cheeks while I watch him struggle in front of me. I know better than to touch someone who’s having a nightmare, but it kills me to see him like this.
“I’m right here,” I choke out. “You’re okay.”
Despite what I know I shouldn’t do, I reach up and gently touch his cheek. His eyes fly open, chest heaving as he looks around the room. When his eyes finally fall on me, he flinches.
“It’s me. It’s Valentina,” I say softly. I brush my fingers through his hair as he stares up at me. His mouth opens, trying to speak, but nothing comes out. I
shake my head. “Shhh. It’s alright. You’re okay.”
He brings his hand up to my cheek, wiping away a tear. Slowly, he pulls his hand away, staring at it, almost confused by the moisture on my face.
“Come here,” I whisper. He looks back up at me as I tug on his shirt. “Come here.”
I lie back and pull him with me. He tensely lays his head on my chest, unsure of this position we’re in, only relaxing when my fingers brush through his hair again. With a deep sigh, he pulls himself closer to me, nestling himself in the crook of my neck as his heart rate starts to slow.
A small part of me thought Huxley’s restlessness was a result of a nightmare, but never once did I think he would call my name during one. Much less that he’d be asking me for help.
I don’t think I want to know what scares him so much that he has to ask for help. But at the same time, I want to know more than anything, so that I can try and help him.
But not right now. Right now, I continue to brush my fingers through his hair until he falls back asleep, letting his deep breaths lull me back into my own.
Fingers brush my hair from my face, waking me up more. I slowly blink my eyes open to Huxley staring at me, but he quickly looks away.
“Thank you,” he whispers, his fingers still twirling my hair.
“Are you okay?” I whisper back.
He nods, but the way he’s not looking at me and the stiffness of his shoulders says otherwise.
Images of last night play through my mind along with his voice and the way he said my name. Huxley Adams isn’t a man that I would think is afraid of much, but he also doesn’t seem like one that would tell me if he was.
Tentatively, and despite my better judgment, I ask, “What was it about?”
His hand freezes with my hair still draped around it. “I’m not telling you that,” he says under his breath.
I bite my lip, hesitant. “You said my name.”
His eyes lift to mine, narrowing in confusion. “I did?”
I nod. “You…” I take a deep breath. “You asked me to help you.”
Fear flashes in his eyes for barely a second before he blinks it away. “Well, I don’t remember that. And besides, you weren’t even in my dream. So it’s not that important.”
Right. You don’t even like me.
I force a barely passable smile and pull my hair from his grasp. “Okay. Great. Glad you’re okay.”
I sit up in bed and make a game plan to get out of here. I don’t want to leave, but I have no place here.
I let myself get too comfortable with him yesterday. From his words to his touch, I fell into him even though I know he isn’t mine to keep.
Huxley sighs and sits up next to me. “Valentina, come on. You can’t expect me to share all my secrets with you. This is just a deal.”
As if I needed a reason to feel worse.
It feels like every good memory we’ve had is being pulled out of me. Like I fell on a pile of nails and someone is pulling them out slowly and with the intent to hurt me.
“We’re still friends, though,” I whisper, knowing if I speak any louder, I might cry.
I look over at him, and he shrugs. “Friends don’t tell each other everything.”
“We’re different, though.”
He scoffs, and another nail is pulled. “How are we different? What’s even that special about us?”
“Our deal.” That nail I pull out myself.
“Those are the benefits to the friends with benefits,” he tells me like it’s obvious. “Which means we’re normal friends.”
“Friends with benefits isn’t normal, Huxley.”
“Nowadays it is.”
Is it? Is it really that normal for people to have friends with benefits?
Maybe it is, how would I know? I’ve never been with anyone but Huxley, and my only friends are Birdie and Ava, and I don’t want to sleep with them.
I should just drop the conversation. I need to leave anyway, so I should just go.
But like an idiot, I ask, “Do you have other friends with benefits?”
Huxley glares at me. “Don’t start this.”
I sit up straighter at his tone, turning more towards him. “Start what?”
“You know my number, and now you’re going to try and dive into those deeper.”
I stop myself before my jaw can fall to the floor. “It was just a question,” I defend.
Huxley pulls his knees up and rests his elbows on them, pushing his palms into his eyes. “I don’t have it in me to fight you right now,” he mumbles.
My shock only builds. Does he really think we’re fighting? “We’re not fighting.”
He drops his hands from his eyes, glaring at me again. “Bullshit, Valentina.”
He can’t be serious, but the look in his eyes tells me he is. I push myself out of bed and leave the room. I don’t need him accusing me of anything right now. We aren’t fighting. We aren’t.
I get to the end of the hallway and stop, pulling in a deep breath while I wait for him to come up behind me like he usually does.
I wait.
I wait for at least a minute before I turn around.
He isn’t there.
I stare at the door, waiting a little bit longer.
Please come to the door. Please come after me.
But he doesn’t.
He wants you to leave. He doesn’t care.
Tears trickle down my face as I force my feet to stay put.
Please tell me you care.
I wait.
And I wait.
But he never shows.
Slowly, I turn and head toward the door to gather my things. I give him one more minute before I softly open the door and leave.
I thought I could convince myself that everything was okay. That I was okay with the deal, but I’m not. I thought he cared about me, even in the slightest.
You aren’t worth it.
I know. But I didn’t think he thought that way, too.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to continue this anymore. Now, the thought of being with him until graduation feels like the nail in my heart is constantly being pulled out over and over again, and there’s no way to stop it.
With him, without him, that nail will continue. Because I’m the one who hammered it in so far that it can never be removed.
Forever embedded into my heart.
Just like Huxley Adams.