34. Sydney
CHAPTER 34
SYDNEY
I’m lying in bed next to West. There’s literally nothing worse. My life could not get any worse right now.
I’m like a middle schooler with raging hormones because my little crush on West has continued to blossom and grow like a wonderful little weed. A weed with pokey thorns. Because it completely throws off my focus. Me lying in bed here, trying to act chill, is just that: an act.
I’m acting like I can’t hear him breathing. Like I can’t feel the bed shift with every movement. I’m acting like I don’t want to roll over and just snuggle right up to his side. I’ve seen those abs. I’d like to know how they feel to snuggle. Are hard abs incredibly uncomfortable to curl up next to? I don’t know. I’ve never done it.
But since I have someone lying in bed with me. That would be the perfect opportunity to test that theory. I slap a hand over my eyes. It’s dark in the room, but that doesn’t matter. I need to shake any image of snuggling West out of my mind.
“Are you alright?” he asks in a whisper.
Dang it. I thought he was asleep already.
“Just fine,” I squeak.
“Do you want me to go turn the bathroom light on for you?” He asks as he leans up from that pancake flat pillow.
He’s making this even worse by being considerate.
“I think I just need a drink of water.” I try to climb out of bed quietly, but I manage to knock the lamp off the nightstand. It falls to the floor with a thump but does not shatter the lightbulb.
“Are you okay?” I’m pretty sure he has that question on repeat where I’m concerned.
I wish that so many circumstances had not happened in a way that allowed him to see my many, frequent failings. I would like to be graceful and completely talented, to be seen as brilliant and 100% capable.
But no, West gets to see me at my absolute worst. Over and over and over again. So, while my little girl crush might be growing rapidly, that man probably thinks he would like to get as far away from me as possible.
I don’t answer him.
I just reset the lamp with a heavy click.
And I feel my way along the wall into the little bathroom, where I grab one of those plastic hotel cups and get a drink out of the faucet.
It tastes disgusting, and now I’m even thirstier. I need good water so I grab a water bottle off the counter instead and immediately chug the whole thing.
The water bottle crinkles loudly when I drain the last of it.
“I didn’t know we were sharing a room with an elephant,” Lucky grumbles from his bed. “I might have risked the bedbugs.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m just having a hard time sleeping.”
The light snaps on, and Lucky grabs his reading glasses from the nightstand and puts them on. His expression softens when he looks at me. “That’s perfectly fine. It’s normal to get insomnia the closer you are to your target.” He explains this as though he’s routinely chasing down millions of dollars.
Who knows? Maybe he is.
“Why don’t you try to read?” he helpfully suggests.
“Er, yes. That’s a good idea.” I climb back into bed next to West, who’s looking at Lucky with an amused look on his face. He scoots over and holds the covers back for me to crawl under.
I glance around as though a book will magically appear that I can lose myself in. There’s nothing except a hotel-provided notepad and pen on the nightstand next to me.
I pick it up, then glance back at the three men staring at me. “If I leave the light on, will it bother you?”
“No, of course not,” Lucky says magnanimously.
West shakes his head. “I can sleep through anything.”
Crew says nothing until Lucky elbows him. He pastes a false smile on his tired face. “Go for it.”
I turn back to the notebook and focus on drawing. Hopefully, all the guys will fall asleep, and I can get my mind to calm down.
“Thanks for telling me about your family,” I whisper to West.
He looks up at me through sleepy eyes. “Sure.”
“It’d be silly of me to ask if you miss him.”
His nod pushes his hair up as he shifts to get comfortable on the pillow. “He always wanted to take me sailing.”
I miss a line at that declaration and have to erase furiously. I whisper, “He knows you’re doing it for the both of you.”
“I know.”
My pen flies back and forth across the paper. It’s not exactly a set of charcoals, but it helps calm my mind. So many thoughts are busy playing laser tag in my brain. West, his dad, murderers and mafia kings.
West’s even breathing next to me helps calm my heartbeat. I keep going, focusing on what I’m drawing and the fact that it’s strangely therapeutic. I’m putting a face to what I’ve seen.
“What the bloody—” West says a few minutes later. He sits up, and his weight shifts the whole bed, causing me to lean toward him and bump my arm against his.
I glance down at the drawing. “Oh.”
West leans forward, grabs the edge of the notebook, and tilts it to get a better view. “You can draw,” he accuses.
I nod sheepishly.
“This is a perfect sketch of the man on the dock.” He looks at it again. “I’d be able to pick him out from a crowd based off of this.”
His eyes narrow when he looks at me. “You purposefully drew a bad picture of me on the boat.”
“That was actually an exact likeness. You just don’t realize that’s what you look like—” I don’t have a chance to continue because West lunges for me, tickling my ribs mercilessly.
“Why did you pretend to be a horrible sketch artist?”
I’m laughing too hard to answer him.
“Were you messing with me?” He pauses on the tickling, but his warm hands still rest against my ribs.
“I wanted to understand you better. I wanted to know how you would respond when someone did something badly,” I whisper as though I hadn’t been shrieking at the top of my lungs just a moment ago.
“And did I pass your little test?” he whispers.
“With flying colors.”