Page 54 of The Sun
“I don’t know, Elias. You ignore me one day, then tell me I’m yours. And then I’m here in your bed, and you’re kissing me like. . .like. . .” Her breath caught, and my chest went tight. I would never forgive myself if I made her cry. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Okay?” She released a hard sigh. “I just thought you wanted me to. . .”
Placing my fingers on her chin, I turned her head and forced her to look at me. “That’s not what I want from you.”
She frowned at something I thought would make her smile, and the thought that maybe she wasn’t such a good girl, after all, broke my heart a little.
“Then why am I here?” she asked.
She was there because I was jealous and a little drunk, and because I wanted things I couldn’t have. I didn’t have a clue how to begin to explain that. “I just want time with you, Sunny. That’s all. Just a little bit of time where we can pretend nothing’s changed.”
Sunny’s eyes closed, and her chin fell to her chest. I watched her shoulders rise and fall, rise and fall.
“Hey,” I said. “Have you ever been to a three-ring circus?”
A short laugh slipped through her lips. “Yes. When I was five Daddy took me to Barnum and Bailey’s.”
“Damn. I never went to the circus. Guess I missed out on that, huh?” Smiling, I laid back and stretched my arm across the pillow. “Your turn.”
She narrowed her eyes, and for a moment, I felt foolish. She’d forgotten the game we had played as children every night before we fell asleep.
“Have you ever. . .” She chewed on her lip before a sudden, pleased smile reached her eyes. “Have you ever ridden a wooden roller coaster?”
“Of course, I—”
She placed a finger over my lips. “I wasn’t finished.” Then she laid her head on my chest. “Have you ever ridden a wooden rollercoaster after you’ve eaten a hot dog and not thrown up?” She pulled her hand away from my mouth and trailed her fingers down my throat and across to my arm.
All I could think is that I wanted to kiss her again. “Um, no. I have a strict no eating hot dogs before rollercoaster rule I have yet to break.”
“Wuss.”
“Please.” I shoved her arm. “Have you had chicken and waffles?”
“Gross! No.”
“And you call yourself a Southerner?” I rolled my eyes, and she laughed.
God, I loved how soft and flirty her laugh was.
We went on and on with stupid questions just like we used to, while she traced the pattern of tattoos on my arm. It was almost as though nothing had changed. And then finally, when my eyes were so heavy I could barely keep them open—but was damn determined because I needed every second I could steal from her—she asked: “Have you ever wanted something you couldn’t have? Like really wanted it until it ate you up inside?”
I turned on the pillow to face her. There were eight-thousand ways I could have answered that, but all that came out was a hoarse, “Of course.”
Silence.
She snuggled against my neck, her fingers once again sweeping across my throat. “What was it?” she whispered.
“That’s against the rules?”
“What is?”
“Asking two questions.”
Her eyes searched mine. “We don’t have rules, Elias.”
She was right. I brushed a hand through her hair. “You, Sunny Ray.”
She swallowed. I swallowed.
There was a long pause, where the only sounds were the low hum of the window unit kicking on and the muffled noise of the TV down the hall.
