Page 80 of Spring Awakening

“Mali.” He’s stern now, like he’s done with her dicking around, yet she remains under her covers. The door clicks open, and he sighs lightly. She could be asleep under here. He’d never know.

“You don’t sleep with the light on,” he says, and she knows that. But it’s not bright under her blanket. In fact, the only thing it appears to be is stuffy. “And you hate to sleep with something covering your face.” That’s also true. She never knows when something is there, and it creeps her out. She tries to place Zach. He could still be over by her door, or he could be in front of her. Looking down from the foot of her bed. How is he light enough on his feet that she has no idea where he is? It’s possible he’s going to drag her out of bed by her ankle, shake her shoulders and ask her why she’s ignoring him.

Of course, he doesn’t, and she feels his hand lightly against her duvet. He lifts it slightly, and she looks up at him.

“Oh, honey,” he whispers, his hand against her waist. She stops breathing. He’s never touched her like this before. Sure, she’s thought about what his hands would feel like, friendly and not. The way she imagines his hands anywhere against her. How she thinks his fingers would fill her so easily. It’s just pillow thoughts. Shower thoughts. So, she lets herself get away with it. Somehow, his hand is lighter than she thought, but she knows she wouldn’t be able to move unless he let her. His fingers drum lightly against her ribs. She wonders if he can feel the ridiculous hammering of her heart.

“How bad is it?”

She sniffs, feeling utterly ridiculous because it’s no worse than a big bruise. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

He spins her as if it’s nothing, a slight tug of her shirt until she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, her feet hitting the carpeted floor. She frowns at him as the goosebumps rise on her thighs. His hands part her knees, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she realises he’s kneeling on the floor. Between her legs. And somewhere in the back of the mind, she keeps the loosest grasp on the moan that wants to escape. He places his hands against her waist like he’s terrified that if he lets go, she’ll leave.

She won’t. Only because if she moves a millimetre his thumbs are going to touch the bottom of her boobs, and she’s not sure what ungodly sound will come out then.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. His voice is so low. It’s not a whisper. It’s more sensual than that, like he’s realised she knows she’s in her bedroom with the hottest man she’s ever seen in her life between her legs. Like he knows she’ll willingly do anything he asks if he so much as flicks his thumb.

“You’re going to make me walk,” she replies, ducking her head. The goosebumps on her thighs are subsiding, perhaps because she’s never been hotter. He moves his hand, and he doesn’t touch her nipple like she so desperately needs, though she arches her back slightly to get him to, even as her chest aches at the movement. Hussy.

Instead, he tilts her face back to his. He keeps a hold of her jaw, and she wonders if she’s ever been this turned on before. Maybe he’s never been wrong. Girls just do what he wants, and all he has to do is look at them. He looks concerned right now. Not like he wants her to take her top off, but she’s not sure how much of a choice she has.

“It’s supposed to help,” he says, his brow furrowing. Why is he so fucking cute? “But you did already shower today. Can I check?”

“Okay.”

Zach takes a breath, and Mali grips the edge of the mattress. He won’t hurt her, she knows that, but he looks so petrified that he might. Her top—well, it’s his top, but hopefully the bruise means he won’t notice—lifts, and she takes a deep breath in.

“Hold on, baby,” he mutters. He ducks his face, and when he comes back, he looks like he might die. His thumbs rub lightly against her skin. “I’ll kill him.”

Mali smiles. “Don’t do that.”

“I could.”

“I know you could, honey,” she says, with a sigh. “But can you stay here with me instead?”

“Yes,” he replies, shuffling on his feet. His hand holds the back of her neck, and once again, he presses his lips to her forehead. “What if we go for a garden wander? I’ll carry you all the way to the back door, and we’ll do one lap. I’ll show you where I think we could put a pond?”

She smiles. We. Where we could put a pond.

“And then you’ll lie in bed and watch Sandra Bullock movies with me?” she asks.

He kisses her nose. “Promise.”

The garden wander is less of a wander and more of a Mali taking half an hour to walk the fifteen-metre garden. But the plants she bought with Miriam are thriving, and the roses Zach bought her when he did, in fact, gatecrash are about to bloom. He lets her hold his hand the entire way around, and then sits her in the kitchen while he makes a mountain of popcorn and a cuppa and races it upstairs. Then he comes back down again to carry her up.

Before they make it to her room, he takes her into the bathroom. It smells pink. When she looks, the bath is full, there’s bubbles everywhere, and the water is in fact purple. And glittery. Her vagina is screaming at the thought of getting in there—and not in a good way—but Zach looks so pleased with himself.

“The shop had the purple ones and the ones with flowers in,” he says, taking her towards the bath so she can see the small flowers. Fuck, this is going to kill her.

“It should be a good temperature. I can help you get in. I’ll close my eyes.” He sounds so excited, andugh. She turns to him and lifts her hands as far as they can go without hurting her. It’s higher than yesterday. She wonders if when she can get her hands to his neck, she’ll kiss him. She wonders if she should risk it.

“You’re the sweetest,” she whispers. “But I can’t get in there.”

“Too much pain?” he asks, his eyes wide.

“No. I feel better today.”

He frowns. “You don’t like it?”

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