Page 69 of Unloved

“Which one was your favorite?”

I smile. “Lord of the Rings. I liked Samwise.”

Her eyes soften, like I’ve revealed some great truth about myself, and it’s so achingly tender I pull back before she can see something she doesn’t like if she looks too closely.

I don’t think I could weather her disapproval.

“Your turn, princess.”

We switch positions, and our movements are gentle, but skittish—both afraid of frightening each other if we go too quickly.

Mokita and Kaptan’s “Dreamer (Stripped Down)” plays softly as Ro settles beneath me, lying flat on the multicolored blankets like a patchwork background to her tawny skin, exposing the long column of her throat and her flushed skin.

“I want to put it here.” She gestures above her hip bone. “If that’s okay.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

For a moment, I wish I wasn’t attracted to her. That everything I felt for her waspurelyfriendship, because that would make this far easier.

Then I wouldn’t think about the way she shivers as I raise the fabric of her shirt. I wouldn’t notice the softness of her skin underneath my fingertips, the gooseflesh that fans out across her entire stomach as I press the damp paper towel to the tattoo. The audible puff of breath she releases as I blow lightly over the crown.

Trying to give myself room to breathe without begging her for a kiss—or even a fucking pat on the head at this point—I stand and discard the wrappers and pizza boxes, cleaning up our scattered mess.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For rescuing me so many times lately… with Tyler. I know that’s probably annoying—”

“It’s not.” I shake my head, stuffing the boxes into her too-full trash bag before tying it and setting it by the door to take it out when I leave. “It’s only annoying that he treats you like this. You deserve so much better. You’re amazing, Ro.”

I peek over at her, and see her arms lying over her eyes, her shirt still raised and showing where the crown shines like a beacon—high enough that I turn away almost immediately.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not so amazing, once you get to know me.”

Her words are a soft mumble, and when I ask her what she means, she doesn’t answer.

It’s quiet again as I finish cleaning up. I return to the pallet and sit by her side.

“When I was little,” I say, my tone low because her eyes are closed, “I used to ask my mom to read me the books from school. She would read them to me first, and then I would read them after her. She’d go through them over and over again with me, until I got every word perfectly.”

I can almost picture my mom as I speak, her comforting embrace around me as she turned the pages and softly corrected the words I missed.

“I know now I was memorizing more than I was learning to read better, but it didn’t matter. Sheknewit embarrassed me on our read-aloud days in school, so she made sure I felt confident before each one.”

If you want to stay home today, it’s okay, Matty.

How the world’s softest woman ended up with the worst narcissist alive always feels like some grand cosmic joke.

A deep sigh heaves out of me as I look down at a sleeping Ro.

“You remind me of her sometimes, especially when you teach me. I think you’re amazing and… and I hope you think you’re amazing, too.”

I should go, Ineedto leave. But I can’t let her sleep on the floor like this.

So I stand, reaching my arms beneath her head and knees to pick her up, trying to be slow and not jostle her awake.

Her head lolls onto my chest, brow wrinkling as she mumbles beneath her breath.

“No, don’t. I’m a giant.”

I smile slightly. “You’re tall. But I’m taller.”

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