CHAPTER 22 #2
I wanted to reach out and apologise for everything that had turned into tonight. Instead, shifted further down the bed, eyes wide in the dark, bottle still clutched loosely in my hand, and tried to convince myself that I hadn’t already ruined this.
The morning was bright, as if everything that had been said last night had removed a curse over the city.
Sunlight spilled into the room through the slit in the curtains.
The radiator had finally kicked in sometime in the early hours, humming low and steady, warming the once-bitter air.
I stirred in that sluggish, half-lucid way you do after a night of restless thoughts and heavier sleep than expected.
Mind still fogged from the vodka, but the burn had long since faded.
It wasn’t until I shifted slightly that I realised my arm was tucked around her.
My forearm rested across her middle; my hand curled loosely near her ribs.
And my face, fuck, my face was far too close to hers.
Mere inches from mine. I blinked a few times, adjusting to the pale light as the image of her slowly came into focus.
Misfit’s face was soft in sleep, the furrow she usually carried between her brows smoothed out.
Her lips parted just slightly, a slow, rhythmic breath escaping.
There was something in my chest, not panic exactly, but something akin to it.
A flutter of something I wasn’t used to, like it had crawled in while I wasn’t paying attention.
I watched her for a moment longer than I should have, trying to make sense of the feeling rising in me.
It wasn’t lust. Not exactly. It wasn’t the raw, hungry thing I was used to feeling in moments like that. No, this was strange. I watched her nose twitch slightly in her sleep, watched her chest rise and fall beneath my hoodie. Felt the heat of her on my skin. My fingers twitched against her side.
I shifted carefully, trying not to wake her. My arm sliding back from around her waist, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of my hoodie still clinging to her frame. She stirred but didn’t wake. I waited a beat longer, then peeled myself out from under the blanket.
The floor was cold underfoot, even through the soft glow of the morning. I snagged a cigarette from the crumpled packet on the windowsill and tucked it behind my ear. Then, as quietly as I could manage, I opened the bedroom door. And walked right into Squeeks.
She was standing in the hallway, hoodie sleeves half over her hands, a mug of something steaming in her grip. Her brow lifted instantly, eyes narrowing with a look that already had conclusions forming behind them. I flinched and stepped out, pulling the door behind me with a soft click.
“Morning,” I croaked, raking a hand through my messy hair, trying to look casual, like I hadn’t just spent the night wrapped around someone I swore I wasn’t letting close.
Squeeks didn’t say anything at first. She just stared at the closed door, then at me, then back to the door. She tilted her head slightly.
“Uh-huh,” she said finally, taking a sip from her mug. “So… who’s in there?”
I shrugged, trying too hard to be nonchalant. “Just someone who needed a place to crash.”
She smirked, “Someone who needed to crash… in your bed?”
“It’s not like that.”
Squeeks snorted into her coffee, “You keep telling yourself that.”
I glared at her, “It’s not what it looks like.”
“M-hm,” she said, leaning her weight into the wall like she was settling in for a good tease. “You brought a girl home. Screech brought a girl home. Can’t have been that good, I didn’t hear anything.”
My expression shifted, unimpressed with her outburst. “It’s not like that!” I repeated, scrubbing a hand over my face, muffling my words.
“She’s just… You know what, forget it.”
Squeeks raised an eyebrow, “She knows you don’t let anyone stay over, right? Let alone in your actual bed.”
I looked down at the floor. “She was soaked through; we’d been out in the rain. That’s all. I wasn’t about to leave her like that.”
She made a mock gasp, “Oh, chivalry isn’t dead after all.” I sighed, leaning against the opposite wall, cigarette now between my fingers, unlit.
“Can you just … not.”
Squeeks studied me for a moment, the humour in her expression shifting. Not gone but softened. “Yeah, alright.”
I brushed past her and walked into the living room, dragging the tired weight of the night behind me.
The sofa was still a mess of blankets from where Squeeks had crashed, though she’d clearly done her usual tidy job.
Cups stacked, ashtray emptied, my mess tucked neatly into corners like it hadn’t ever exploded across the place just last night.
I slumped into the far end of the couch, tossing the cigarette onto the coffee table. I let my head drop into my hands, palms digging into my eyes. I could still feel the warmth of her, clinging to my skin, even though she was two rooms away behind a closed door.
Squeeks flopped down beside me a second later, the cushions bouncing under the weight. She pulled her legs up and turned to face me, eyes already full of amusement.
Great, here we go. She wasn’t done with me yet. “Sooo…” she said, stretching the word out like it was made of elastic. “Is she still asleep, or are you trying to hide her from me?”
I let out a low groan, resting my head back against the sofa. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
“It’s a gift,” she beamed, then nudged me with her elbow. “Come on. Who is she? Don’t think I’ve ever seen you bring someone back. She cute? Even in her half-drowned state?”
I side-eyed her, “She’s just someone from Juvie. You wouldn’t know her.”
“That right?” She leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Because from where I’m sitting, you two look more than just Juvie buddies.” I stopped myself, jaw tightening. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“It’s complicated.”
“Ooh,” Squeeks leaned in dramatically, grinning widely. “Complicated.”
I gave her a look that should’ve ended the conversation, but Squeeks was never one for reading the room when it came to a good opportunity to stir.
“So… is this gonna be a regular thing now? You two playing house? Should I start knocking before I barge in? Maybe send a text first? I’m not down for walking in on my bro balls deep in some girl.
” My eyes widened at her, a flash of amusement at her choice in wording.
She definitely learned that one from me.
I sat forward, resting my elbows on my knees again.
“Don’t you have school or something?” I asked, calm but pointed. She raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the tone.
“Wow. Subtle,” she smirked. “You kicking me out already?”
“Just thought you might have better things to do than hang around making shit jokes.”
Squeeks sipped the last of her drink and stood up, grabbing her coat off the back of the chair. “Lucky for you, I actually do.” Slipping her arms into the sleeves. “But I'm meeting Mum first. Can’t be arsed to sit through Mr fuckwits history class.”
I stayed quiet, raising a brow towards her— a clear judgment of her decisions.
“Try not to miss me too much, big bro.”
I gave a half-smile, “No promises.”
With a laugh and a mock salute, she opened the front door and slipped out, letting it fall shut with a soft click behind her. And just like that, the flat fell into silence.
I sat there, slouched on the sofa, one arm draped over the backrest, the other idly fiddling with the hem of my top.
The flat hadn’t creaked with movement since I closed the door to the bedroom.
So, I assumed Misfit was still sleeping.
I exhaled slowly, resting my head back, eyes half-closed as I let it all catch up to me.
Everything we’d said, everything we hadn’t.
Her past.
Mine.
I hadn’t meant to let it spill out, but with her, it just cracked wide open. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to ignore the tightness pulling at my chest. I didn’t do those feelings. Didn’t want them. They were messy and unpredictable.
But there she was, sleeping in my bed, and I couldn’t get the image out of my head. The curve of her lip twitching in sleep. The little crease between her brows when she was deep in thought. How small she looked curled up, but how loud her silence felt when she looked at me like she knew.
I blinked, staring at the blank TV screen across from me.
Only, in my head, I wasn’t there anymore.
Drifting off to still being in the bedroom.
Still beside her, my fingers brushing across her cheek.
Her eyes opening slowly, lashes blinking up at me, but she didn’t speak.
Didn’t snap away from my touch. And I kissed her.
Not rough or frantic. Just… steady. Her lips soft, her hand curling against the side of my neck like she didn’t want to let go.
I didn’t even care if it was real. I just wanted to feel it, her warmth, her trust, her weight against me.
I let the image linger too long. A bitter laugh escaped me, dragging myself back to reality. What the fuck was that?
I hadn’t heard her approach, not over the static in my brain.
The moment had gripped me, the brief, half-delusional dream clinging to the inside of my skull.
I could still feel the ghost of it, her mouth on mine, the softness of her skin, the imagined heat of her fingers at the side of my neck.
At the absolute absurdity of it. Of me. Of the fact that something inside me wanted that.
Wanted her.
“What’s tickled you?”
I looked up, fuck. Her eyes met mine. All of it vanished like a snap of fingers, the warmth, the imagined version of her. Now she was real. Standing there, guarded. That small smile twitching on her lips, still wearing my hoodie, which made everything worse.
I sat forward, shaking my head, “Oh… it was nothing,” I said. Fucking Liar. I could feel my own inner self smacking me across the head. Fucking idiot.
I could see it hit her, the subtle shift in her expression, the confusion settling in behind her eyes as the smile dropped.
She gave me an “Okay,” soft and unsure, and just like that, the room tilted into that weird space. Not angry. Just… awkward. It was unbearable.
I wanted to tell her I didn’t mean to keep things from her. That I didn’t mean to open my fucking trap in the first place. That my chest had been in a vice since she spilled her secrets to me last night, laying herself bare in the dark beside me.
I wanted to ask her to sit beside me again, to feel her near, to ground the storm. But I didn’t. I sat there like an awkward fucking schoolboy sitting in front of a girl he liked. No, that’s not what this is.
I don’t fancy Misfit.
I mean, yeah, okay, she’s got eyes that could stop traffic.
But that doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people have eyes.
Statistically. Not her fault hers happen to look directly into your soul like she’s trying to find where you buried the bodies.
That doesn’t mean I like her. Besides, she’s a walking disaster.
She talks in threats and sleeps like a feral cat.
She's still wearing my favourite hoodie, as if it were legally hers. That alone should make me hate her.
Sure, maybe I’ve caught myself looking at her when she’s not paying attention. She’s an attractive woman.
But that’s… observation. I’m an observant guy.
It’s not like I’d spent most of the night awake thinking about how it felt when she sat close to me on the roof.
Shoulder to shoulder, her arm brushing mine while we shared a bottle and didn’t say a word.
Not as if I repeated the moment far too often for someone who, one hundred percent, absolutely, does not fancy her.
Get a grip Screech, Jesus!
Her words snapped me from my thoughts.
“I’m gonna go and get changed. They should probably be dry now.” Offering me a half smile as she backed off from the door frame.
The bathroom door clicked shut, and I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding. My head dropped into my hands. What the fuck are you doing Screech?
This wasn’t supposed to be anything at all. How could we have gone from wanting to end each other in the most brutal way, to now … this!
But now, of course, I had to go and make it weirder.
I got up and went to the bedroom, dragging my shirt over my head.
Flinging it across the room in a mixture of annoyance and frustration towards my soppy daydream.
My fingers fumbled with the waistband of my joggers, stripping them off, not in a rush, my mind still back on the awkward moment in the living room.
On the look in her eyes. The way she couldn’t meet my gaze after asking what I was laughing at.
Slipping off my boxers, I turned to the dresser to grab a fresh pair when the door flew open without warning, and there she was, eyes wide like a deer in head lights, face flaming.
“Fuck! Sorry.” The door slammed shut so fast it made the wall shake, and I froze mid-motion, stood there stark fucking naked. Then came the sound of her sliding to the floor on the other side, crouched in place as if she’d just detonated her own dignity.
I ran a hand down my face and sighed. Of course that just happened. Perfect.
After clothing myself, I headed for the door. Her shadow still slumped at the bottom. I opened it slowly, peering down at her, still curled like some cartoon character hiding from the world. I tried not to laugh. Honest, I did.
“Erm… what are you doing?”
She looked up, cheeks flushed, eyes throwing daggers, “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Deadpan and defensive. In an adorable way, she probably didn’t want to be. That instinctual urge to deflect the awkwardness with a joke rose like muscle memory.
“If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked,” I said, as casual as I could manage, leaning against the door frame and crossing my arms. “Could’ve made popcorn. Set the mood.”
Her mouth dropped open in outrage, “You’re unbelievable.” Quickly rising to her feet as she stormed down the hallway.
My voice raised to her, “And you didn’t even tip me,” I added with a smirk.
A loud, audible groan came from the living room, followed by something that sounded suspiciously like, “I hate you.” Holding more laughter in it than venom.
Awkwardness defeated, I guess.