Rule #15
WARNING: LINES MAY BECOME BLURRED IN THE DARK
SONNY
Cai leads the way back to her room, cradling the bowl with her rice-submerged phone like it’s a newborn baby.
Every few steps, the house gives a low, ominous rattle that makes my shoulders tighten.
Cai glances at me, completely unfazed. “That’s normal,” she explains. “The eye should be passing over us soon. It’ll feel peaceful, eerily so even. If we time it right, maybe we can go outside to see it.”
We slip into her room. Cai grabs the lantern we rescued from the closet earlier, clicks it on, and turns off the flashlight. Instead of the total darkness we experienced earlier, the weak light makes it more like a grey haze. It’s much more comfortable.
We climb into our separate beds. The storm outside rages on, but in here, the silence between us feels louder.
I lay there staring at the ceiling; my mind is like a hamster on caffeine.
Every word Cai has said is playing on a loop.
Every line that went unsaid hangs between us, thicker than the humidity.
She is lying a few feet away, breathing softly in the dark.
There’s an invisible rope wrapped around my chest, tugging me toward her with every heartbeat.
I want to close the distance between us so badly it physically aches. I curl my hands into fists at my side and force myself to stay still. If I can just force my body to submit and my brain to chill out, I might have a chance to get some rest and…
“Sonny?” Cai calls out in the dark.
“Yeah?” I reply eagerly.
“I want to change my apology from earlier.”
My heart skips a beat in anticipation. “Ok…”
“I’m kind of… sensitive, I guess, about being seen as the emotional one.
I’m always the one who’s single and never with a caring partner.
I lashed out because of it.” Cai’s voice breaks more than once as she speaks.
“I’m sorry if I led you to believe I was a better person or a stronger person than I am.
I’m pretty pathetic, and I’m sorry. That doesn’t excuse my acting like a bitch in front of you. ”
“Don’t say that. You’re not pathetic.” I can feel the anger rising in my cheeks.
“Nothing you’ve done since the moment I met you makes you pathetic.
If anything, you’re hopeful; you want things to work out.
Wanting things, having desires, and making demands of those around you who claim to care for you is not a flaw. ”
“Yeah, right,” she scoffs. “I’m sure lots of strong individuals chase their boyfriends who have literally blocked them.”
“Once I dated a girl who got mad I hung out with my friends instead of with her, and she cut all my clothes. Designer, expensive stuff I had saved up for. And I still dated her afterward.”
Cai gasps slightly! “Jesus, that’s terrible! Hopefully, you didn’t date her for too long!”
“Well, I stayed with her until she dumped me, so yeah. It was too long either way.”
“I pretended to be sick one year during Valentine’s Day because I couldn’t bear to be at work…” Cai confesses.
“That’s not so bad…” I begin.
“…for a week!” she adds.
“Oh…” I rack my brain for a story that would one-up hers.
“Ok, once I told my mom this kid who rode the bus with me was my best friend because he was polite enough to wave when I’d say bye.
So my mom invited him on a surprise birthday trip, and he told her he barely knew me.
So, as embarrassing as it was for my mom to know, it was even worse when I went back to school, and everyone there knew, too. ”
Cai lets out an “Aww” and then says, “Ok, here’s a really bad one.
This story came out about a boyfriend who locked his girlfriend up for weeks because she threatened to leave.
My initial reaction was, ‘Oh, wish someone liked me that much.’” Her voice cracks.
I can hear the dam break as she starts crying.
Propriety be damned, I can’t let her lie there and cry in the dark. I am the man who lives between heartbeats. Even in the dark, I get to her bed in two. I lie next to her and pull her into a tight embrace. Her arms wrap around me as her body shakes with tears.
CAI
Sonny is in my bed.
Sonny has his arms around me.
Sonny feels damn good.
I bury my face against his chest, letting the tears fall as his hand strokes slow, soothing circles on my back. His shirt is soft, his skin warm beneath it, and the steady beat of his heart grounds me even as mine races.
After a while, the sobs ease. I stay curled against him, embarrassed but unwilling to move. The storm moans outside, but in here the only sounds are our breathing and the occasional creak of the old house.
“You want to trade more embarrassing stories?” Sonny murmurs, his voice a low rumble against my ear.
I let out a watery laugh. “Only if you promise not to laugh too hard.”
“Deal.”
I hesitate, then decide to be brave. “I’ve never really been on a proper date.
Like the kind you see in movies, where someone plans something just for you, picks you up, and makes you feel…
special. I’ve gone out with guys, but it’s always been casual.
Meet at a bar and split the check; maybe Netflix after. Nothing intentional.”
Sonny is quiet for a moment. “You mean just with your current guy?”
“With anyone.” I try to shrug it off. “Maybe that stuff only happens in movies.”
“No, Cai.” His voice turns husky, almost fierce. “It’s not just movies. You deserve someone who puts in the effort. Who plans something because they’re excited to see you smile. You’re not high-maintenance for wanting that. You’re… worth it.”
His words settle deep in my chest, cracking open things I’ve kept sealed for years. I have to change the subject before I start crying again.
“Okay, here’s a better one,” I say, my voice lighter.
“One time, I accidentally sent my boss a very personal text meant for my friend. It was a screenshot of a conversation with a guy on a dating website, where he asked me to call him a dirty piggy and tried to tempt me with a picture of his flaccid penis.”
“Wow,” Sonny sounds like he is struggling to find the words. “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that a guy messaged you that or the fact you forwarded it to your boss.”
“Once,” Sonny continues after considering it a moment. “I showed up to a major work presentation in two different-colored shoes.”
We go back and forth, the stories getting sillier and more vulnerable. With every laugh, I melt further into him. Our legs tangle.
His hand slides slowly from my back to my waist, then to my thigh. My kaftan is airy, and it feels like he is touching my bare skin. His thumb is tracing lazy circles, sending electricity up my thigh.
The air between us changes.
I become hyper-aware of every point of contact: the hard plane of his chest against my breasts. The firm muscle of his thigh pressed against mine. The heat of his breath on my forehead. My heart is pounding.
I want Sonny’s hands everywhere. I want to forget every principle I’ve clung to and lose myself in him.
“Sonny…” I whisper.
He goes still. “Yeah?”
I tilt my head up. In the near-darkness, I can just make out the line of his jaw.
Our noses brush. Then our lips meet; soft at first, tentative, then deeper.
A low groan escapes him as I part my lips, inviting him in.
His tongue brushes mine, and heat floods through me, pooling low and heavy between my legs.
For the briefest moment, I think I hear murmured voices down the hall, reminding me of where we are.
It doesn’t stop me, but I press closer, one leg sliding over his hip, needing to be tighter. His hand slides from my thigh, over my waist, and cups my breast. I arch against him, a soft whimper escaping me.
Sonny is making a rough sound. He rolls us so I am half beneath him.
The weight of his body, solid, warm, is overwhelming in the best way.
I can feel how hard he is against my thigh, and the knowledge sends another rush of heat through me.
My hands roam his back, then slip under his shirt to trace the muscles there. His skin is fever-hot.
He breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down my neck, sucking lightly at a spot that makes me shiver. One of his hands slides between us, cupping me through the thin fabric of my underwear. I rock against his palm, desperate for more pressure.
“Cai…” His voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. “If we keep going, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop.”
The words hit like cold water.
Shame washes over me. Trevor’s text. The lies.
What type of woman got in bed with someone she just met twenty-four hours ago?
What must Sonny think of me? I was in a serious relationship recently.
One whose status feels unclear at least to some extent.
Yet, here I am, grinding against Sonny like I have any right to him.
I freeze, breathing hard. “I… I shouldn’t—”
“Hey.” Sonny gently pulls back, though his body is still trembling with restraint. He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed. “We stop. Right now. No pressure. Ever.”
I nod, mortified by my behavior, but also overwhelmed by his tenderness. His prudence and consideration accentuate how I am still a mess.
We lay here in the dark, bodies close but no longer tangled, the storm going wild outside, matching the tumultuous one still churning inside me. Sonny’s arm stays around me, loose and comforting, but I can feel the tension in him, the same want, held carefully in check.
Neither of us speaks again. As I drift toward sleep in his arms, one thought keeps circling:
How much longer can I keep pretending I don’t want this, want him, with every part of me?