Chapter 17
Dean
Turning over, I pulled the pillow over my head.
It barely drowned out the sound from the living room, and there was no way I’d fall asleep like this.
Thunder rumbled overhead, which I preferred to Oli’s loud voice.
He shouted, either from winning or losing the match, then I heard him say something about loading up another one.
Not a chance. I couldn’t deal with this for God only knew how long.
Throwing off the covers, I marched toward the door in just my boxers. Oli was already looking in my direction when I threw it open. His head cocked and his lips thinned, but he turned back to the TV.
“Give me a sec,” he said into the mic. He snorted a laugh, then slipped the headset off of one ear. “Hey, what’s up?”
“What’s up with me? What’s up with you?”
He set the controller on the table and shifted so he was sitting crisscross on the couch. “You’re mad.”
My brows went up for a second. “What makes you say that?”
“Sorry if I’m being loud. I can get off.”
That was what I wanted, but now that I was looking at him, I wasn’t sure how to respond. He seemed small, like a scolded child, even though I hadn’t said much of anything.
This might’ve been one of his jumping to conclusions things, and for some reason, I didn’t want to tell him that he was right.
“It’s fine,” I said.
When I spun around to go back to bed, I heard the couch creak.
Already knowing he’d be there, I slowly turned.
With him in front of me, I could see the caution in his eyes, like I was some wild animal he was wary to approach.
It struck me hard, igniting something akin to what I’d felt yesterday when that asshole almost knocked him over.
“You look upset,” I noted.
“I’m not.”
“Then tell me what you are.”
“Just . . .” He looked toward the TV, then back to me. “I can tell you’re angry.”
“Why do you think that?”
“It’s your footsteps . . . But then you say it’s fine. It’s irritating.”
At that, I breathed a laugh. “Okay, we’re getting somewhere. I thought you looked scared. Or sad.”
“You don’t like when I’m sad.”
I blinked a couple of times, my stomach twisting. “Nobody should be sad. Anyway, you can play your game.”
“I don’t really want to.”
“So, don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Goodnight,” I said a little awkwardly.
He didn’t move, even as I started to close the door. It felt like shutting out a dejected puppy, but I wasn’t sure what else to say.
As I laid in bed, I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t hear him saying anything out there, so I assumed he’d shut the game off. There were small sounds, though, which I couldn’t place.
Oli always walked quietly in the apartment, like a cat prowling around. Any time I came out of my room and found him doing anything, he acted like he’d been caught. I didn’t give a shit if he existed in his home, but he seemed intent on being a ghost.
The sliding door creaked, making me turn my head. It was pouring rain outside. Why the hell would he go out there?
Some foreign but increasingly familiar feeling started in my chest. It was stupid to think he’d get struck by lightning or some dumb shit, but the thought still floated around absently.
He could also get sick. Or he could slip on the deck and knock his head on one of his flower pots.
Maybe that spider friend of his would crawl up his nose and walk across one of the wrinkles in his brain, severing something important.
What the hell was wrong with me? Oli wasn’t my responsibility.
Too curious to sleep, I stood again. This time, I slid my arms into a sweatshirt so I wouldn’t freeze my damn nipples off if I had to drag him out of the rain.
I opened my door and scanned the space. Determining he’d gone outside, I walked as quietly as I could toward the back. There was a voice out there, soft and melodic. The tune was familiar, and I found myself intrigued as I got closer.
Before I reached the door, he cut off abruptly. There was no way he’d heard me this time, but when I looked out of the glass, he was staring directly at me from where he was crouched in front of the flower that served as the spider’s home.
With my cover blown, I slid the door open and offered him a smile. “Hey, crazy pants.”
He looked away from me, focusing on the pot. I watched as he carefully slid it closer to the building so it was beneath the cover of the roof, just out of reach of the rain.
“What are you doing?”
“The wind made a hole in his web.”
“You’re sure it’s a boy spider?” I teased.
“You can’t tell?”
“I haven’t really looked, honestly.”
“Scared of him?”
“Not scared, but not interested either. My mom calls them demons, so I’ve always been the executioner.”
All I could see was the side of his face, but there was a noticeable frown there. Coming closer, I crouched beside him. Despite my aversion, I carefully touched the tear in the spider’s web.
“Are you one of those people who always brings them outside?” I asked.
“I leave them alone unless they get a little too invasive. They’re just existing like the rest of us.”
“They could exist outside like this one.”
“And people will still kill them if they find them. It’s kind of like they aren’t welcome anywhere. Like they don’t belong.”
“This feels deeper than spiders.”
Finally, he smiled a little. “There used to be one in the corner above my bed when I was, like, nine. I’d tell it about my day before I went to sleep. If I found other bugs, I’d toss them into his web. He appreciated it, I think.”
“Sounds really lonely.”
“It was lonelier when my foster mom got rid of him. She was mad I hadn’t told her about it. Said it would crawl in my mouth while I was sleeping.”
“I heard we eat a bunch of spiders every year.”
“That’s a myth.”
“Thank God.”
Oli plucked a few fallen leaves from the soil and tossed them over the edge. When he was done, he just stayed like that, watching the spider, even though it wasn’t doing anything.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” I said. “It’s cold, plus it’s late.”
“I like it out here at night.” He looked up, his eyes moving across the sky. “I can never see the stars at this time of year, though.”
“You have to find somewhere with less clouds.”
He hummed. “It’s similar where I’m from. I guess starlight isn’t a part of my journey.”
“The best starlight is found outside the city. Last spring break, I went camping with the guys and saw more stars than I ever could have imagined.”
“Are you going this year?”
“I don’t know, maybe. If we do, I might let you come.”
His eyes widened, but before he could respond, a clap of thunder made him jump. I saw his jaw tighten, and I found myself studying him more closely.
“Come on.” I grabbed his forearm gently and pulled him to his feet. He didn’t resist as I led him back into the house. After locking the door, I pulled the curtain closed and headed over to the couch. “Lie down.”
“You’re bossy,” he grumbled, but he did as I said. He was a little wet, and his shirt was clinging to his skin.
“Take that off.”
His eyes stayed on mine while he peeled it off and flung it across the room.
“My dad would make me run lines for that,” I said.
“I’ll run for you.”
Taking the edge of his blanket, I yanked it upward, then let it fall over his chest. “Go to sleep. It’s one AM.”
“You work late tomorrow. You’ll be fine.”
“And you work early, so close your damn eyes, weirdo.”
He rolled them, then let them fall shut. I grunted my approval and walked back to my door. Before I stepped inside, I turned to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling now, and there was just something about him that told me this wouldn’t last.
I sighed. “Is it the thunder?”
He looked over at me, settling his cheek on his hand. “That’s pathetic, huh?”
“Depends on the reason.”
When he didn’t respond, I closed the distance again. Immediately, he reared back, and I came to an abrupt stop.
“Hey,” I said gently. Slower than before, I crouched in front of him. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, I can go to bed.”
He surprised me by grabbing my hand tightly. “It’s not you. Just the sound.”
“Can you tell me?”
“I’ve always thought it’s sort of like a door slamming.” His lips pulled to the side. “I’m not a kid scared of thunder. I just like to know what’s headed my way.”
“So, it’s the sudden sound.”
He nodded, looking away from me. “I can’t sleep like this, especially with your door closed.”
“I can keep it open.”
He smiled a little and shrugged. “It might help.”
My stomach twisted as a different thought came into my head. It was weird, but it didn’t really matter. I couldn’t stand the idea of him not sleeping before he had to work in the morning.
“Come on.”
His eyes were locked on me as I stood, but he didn’t budge.
“Come on,” I repeated firmly.
“Where am I coming?” The little smirk on his face almost made me laugh, but I just gave him an impatient look.
With an elderly groan, he sat up, tossing the blanket onto the floor. Wordlessly, he followed me to my room. When I dropped onto my mattress, he stayed by the door, looking around warily.
“I don’t bite,” I said.
“I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“Get in. There’s plenty of room.”
His eyes were wide as he stared at the bed. “You . . . want me to sleep with you?”
I lifted one shoulder. “I’m a light sleeper, so you can trust that I’ll notice if anything’s off.” Shifting to the side closest to the door, I patted the spot next to me. “As long as you don’t steal the whole blanket, it won’t affect our friendship.”
“And if I do?”
“Then you’re getting kicked in the sack. Choose wisely.”
A lopsided smile slid onto his face. A little too hastily, he rushed toward the bed, then climbed in. Lying on my back, I glanced sidelong at him. He seemed noticeably less tense, which reinforced my decision to offer something this ridiculous.
“You sure I’m not in your way?” he asked, turning onto his side.
I rolled to face him, staying as close to my edge as I could. “It’s cool. Just don’t get used to it. One-time offer.”
In the dark, his eyes found mine. Shamelessly, he stared at me, and not knowing what else to do, I stared back.
“You really are a nurturer.”
I wasn’t sure if he was teasing, but I hit him lightly in the chest. “Shut up.”
“Yes, sir.” He saluted me with two fingers.
“Is this your first time sleeping in here?”
“Yeah.” His expression became more serious as his eyes roamed the space.
“What is it with bedrooms?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Do you feel safe here?”
His eyes found mine again. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know what bad things happened in your past.” After a second, I drew in a breath. “Sorry. That feels fucked up to say.”
“It’s not fucked up.”
“So . . . did bad things happen?”
“Not like you’re thinking. Not to me.” Something passed over his eyes, but in the dark, I couldn’t even start to decipher it.
Not really thinking about it, I touched the corner of his lips where they were tight. He sucked in a breath, and I pulled back immediately.
Clearing my throat, I turned onto my back. “Well, as long as you’re comfortable right now, that’s what matters.”
“I’m with you.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, and I didn’t want to dwell on it, so I closed my eyes. Before I’d even gotten tired enough to sleep, I heard him start to snore softly. I peeked at him carefully, studying the way one of his hands clutched the blanket to his chest.
In sleep, he looked more mature, which was odd to me. I thought he’d appear softer, more childlike.
I had this strange feeling that he’d wake up at the slightest sound, so I made it a point not to move as I closed my eyes again.