Page 29 of The Truth About Love

She yawns, stretches and climbs off my lap. By her slow blinking, it’s clear that she’s only minutes away from falling asleep.

“You okay if I stay here while I wait for an Uber?” I ask, willing to wait on the street if she’d rather just go to bed.

“You don’t have your truck?”

I shake my head. “Was planning on having a drink.”

She closes the balcony doors behind us as we step back inside her bedroom. Padding across the floor, she flops herself into bed and throws back the covers, taking off her sweater to reveal a thin long-sleeve pyjama top underneath.

“Just stay here,” she says with a yawn.

“What?”

“It’s late, you’ll be waiting ages for a cab, so just stay here.” She pats the empty space beside her as if this isn’t a highly uncharacteristic suggestion of hers.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just hurry up. I wanna go to sleep.”

Chuckling, I loosen the fastening on my jeans and shuffle them off, leaving me in just my boxers and t-shirt. “You okay if I sleep like this?”

“Yeah.” She says, but her eyes are closed, sleep already pulling her under.

With an amused shake of my head, I switch off the light and slide in beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and curling my body around hers. She lets out a contented sigh and nuzzles further into me, her hand finding mine beneath the covers.

“Goodnight, pretty girl,” I whisper.

“Goodnight, quarterback.”

Just like that, with our fingers entwined and my face buried in the crook of her neck, I fall asleep. And though only two hours later I wake to my Mama summoning me home with a psychosis-induced emergency, it’s still the best night sleep I’ve had in a long time.

Chapter Eight

Summer-Raine

Naked branches replace falling autumn leaves as September ends and October begins only to slip seamlessly into November.

Since that first night Auden stayed after his football game, he’s gone to multiple parties only to find himself sitting on my balcony again. Always, he sits in the same chair with me cradled in his lap and always, he sleeps in my bed afterwards.

But he hasn’t kissed me.

Not since our first date all those weeks ago.

And yet, when we’re together, he can hardly keep himself from touching me. His hands are constantly on me, in my hair, around my waist, rubbing gently up and down my back. In AP English Lit, he links our pinkie fingers together underneath the desk or brushes his foot along my calf. Even when we sleep, he’s touching me. Holding me to him like he’s scared of what would happen if he let go.

But still, no kiss.

In the short few months that we’ve known each other, Auden has shown me more affection than my mother ever has and though I’d have expected to be overwhelmed by it, I find myself constantly leaning into his touch or seeking out his body heat. I find myself constantly wondering why he hasn’t kissed me again. And wishing that he would.

Somehow, about two weeks ago, he convinced me to go to his bonfire that’s happening tonight. It took some begging on his part and I finally agreed, but only on the condition that I could drag Marlowe along with me. She was pissed at first, but when I told her that Tyler from the swim team, the one who’s always checking her out, would be there she begrudgingly accepted the invitation.

And that’s how Marlowe and I end up standing in my closet, staring at the rows upon rows of clothes my Mama insisted on collecting for me over the summer as we desperately try and work out what one is supposed to wear to a bonfire.

Like me, this’ll be her first time hanging with people from school. And like me, she’s nervous as hell.

“What about this?” she asks, pulling out a red dress with a plunging neckline.

“For you?”

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