Chapter 8 #2
Totally for comfort and nothing else I drape it around the couch behind her.
When she doesn’t look uncomfortable or creeped out, I leave it there.
Without asking, I switch to season one. I’ve watched it a few times, but it’s a comfort show for me, so I don’t mind.
Graciously, she doesn’t mention the switch and settles in to watch Daphne and the Duke try to work their weird little plan.
When we’re halfway through the season, I start to hear soft, even breaths from the bundle next to me.
I turn the tv off as silence saturates the room.
It’s gotten quite late, the snow maintaining its vicious onslaught since she arrived as the wind howls through the streets.
Stella is curled up into my side, a small beacon of warmth.
I slowly, carefully, caress the top of her hair with my fingertips.
She smiles in her sleep, burrowing closer to me.
I stare at the ceiling, cursing my luck at having a stunning woman in my house that I can’t touch. I was initially going to offer her my bed and sleep on the couch myself, but she looks so peaceful here.
I gently, without waking her, disentangle myself and pad over to my room, leaving the door cracked in case she needs anything and strip down to my boxer briefs.
I look around the beige-painted room. There’s a significant lack of colour in my possessions, most everything being either black or grey. I always valued functionality over style. I hadn’t really seen a need to get anything colourful or… pretty until I saw that blue wall.
That wall spoke of possibility, of opening myself up to something new, something calmer and softer than the harsh tones I surrounded myself with for years.
It made me want to buy things for enjoyment, for beauty, instead of merely practicality.
It made me want to make my space something to share with people.
Jesus, it’s just a wall, I chastise myself. I’m waxing poetic about pigment.
Laying on top of my blankets, I try to calm myself.
I can hear the soft ticking of the clock in the living room.
Nothing I do can make me sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her.
The way her face glowed every time she won a game.
Her curiosity about my favourite show. The way she listened to me.
She got me to talk to her.
I’ve never talked about my parents with anyone. Beck and I aren’t close enough. The band would hate how self-pitying it sounds, not to mention it would mean they need a new drummer. Nessa can’t… handle it emotionally.
And then there was her.
There’s this line in my life. On one side is my boring, routine life of playing show after show, knowing what was waiting for me whenever I had to inevitably quit.
On the other side is Stella. Seeing the way she craves adventure and excitement.
Seeing her in those leather leggings, reveling in her supple, willing body against mine, hearing her tinkling little laugh, the way she gasped when I pressed her up against the door, the way she tasted…
I’ve got to stop, because if I keep thinking about it, my dick is going to get way too excited. Something about getting off to her while she’s asleep in my living room, unknowing, is plain old creepy. It’s not right.
I’ll have to wait until I’m awake and show her. The thought runs through my head before I can stop it and I cringe.
Oh, I am so going to hell.
I don’t sleep a wink. Instead, I watch the gentle orange glow of the sun paint the wall opposite of me, highlighting shadows of still-falling snow as it rises.
I’m going to need the world’s biggest coffee today.
My one consolation prize is that I don’t have anywhere to be, if the snow outside is any indicator.
And there’s still a woman asleep in my living room. Wearing my clothes.
I need to suck it up, be a man, and ask how she slept. Offer her some breakfast. That’s it. I’m being a good host. Nothing untoward.
I walk into the living room and am immediately faced with Stella’s ass.
Literally.
She’s bent in half in my living room, toes and hands on the ground, ass in the air. I nearly swallow my tongue. I didn’t even hear her moving around. This is the best morning of my life and I’ve only been up for eight and a half minutes.
“Good morning!” She calls out as she straightens.
“What the hell was that?” I ask a little too gruffly, willing my blood to stop rushing south. I walk over to the single-serve coffee machine and make us some drinks.
“That the hell was yoga, stud. Keeps you limber.” She throws me a wink and saunters over to grab the hoodie I gave her last night.
Silently, I hold the cup of coffee I made out to her.
She evaluates it for a moment before wrapping her hands around it and snuggling down into my couch, giving it a sniff before setting it down.
I sit across from her, sipping my drink and scrolling on my phone.
“You’re mighty chipper for this hour.” The coffee machine was untouched when I made our cups, so I can’t figure out where she’s gotten all of this energy.
“I like to think that anything can happen, so every morning you wake up at all is a good morning,” she says, her smile beaming.
“How depressingly optimistic.”
“It’s something my dad says.” There’s a strong emotion attached to the words that I’m way too damn tired to figure out. I change the subject instead.
“Hope you’re good hunkering down here another day.” I nod my chin towards the window. She pads over in her bare feet to peer out.
Aaaaand I’m looking at her ass again.
“Guess we’ll have to find something to do then,” she says, still watching the snow.
“More card games?” I venture. Other than the three games I own and streaming services, there’s not a whole lot left to do.
“We could play truth or dare?” She throws it out like a joke and there’s mischief colouring her eyes.
“I’m pretty sure there’s enough to stream without resorting to a middle school game,” I scoff.
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. “I need to see if Daphne’s plan goes well anyway.”
I let her set up the show while I quickly toast some bagels and grab some fruit from the fridge. I settle in next to her and eat half a bagel in one bite.
“Impressive appetite there, sir,” she mocks.
“You don’t know the half of it, sunshine,” I say, fixing her with a smoulder. I revel in the way her cheeks tinge pink as she glances away before I focus on the show in front of me.
We get all the way to the third episode of season two before I can’t take it anymore.
It’s my favourite show, but even I have limits.
It’s late afternoon and the snow shows no sign of letting up.
It’s a good thing I had gone out for those groceries yesterday—not only because I probably saved Stella from freezing to death, but also because there’s no way to get anything or go anywhere as it is.
I turn off the show.
“Hey! I still don’t know what the heck pall-mall is!” she shouts at me, lobbing a throw pillow in my direction. It’s a good thing her aim is shit though. It flies right past me, onto the floor. I swing my head over to look her in the eye, and I give her a devilish grin.
“Truth or dare, sunshine?”