Page 37 of Rebellious

He was the baby I grew up rocking to sleep in Aunt Breck’s rocking chair. He was chubby back then, all eyes and a constant frown. But then he hit thirteen, growing tall and filling out all those inches with muscle. He still had those eyes though, and the frown. Some things will never change.

I round the back of the quaint, white house and stop at the window on the first floor. Curling my fingers along the edge, I lift, and the window slides up like it has for years. With a quick look around, I throw my leg over and duck under the pane.

I’m hit with the familiar smell of spice.

Bennett doesn’t move at the sound of the window rising. It’s likely he knew I would come, just like I have since he was old enough to leave it unlocked for me.

I pad across the floor to “my side” of the bed and see Bennett’s body curled onto his side, facing me. Without a word, he lifts the blankets and I kick off my flip-flops, crawling in.

“You’re up late,” I whisper, tucking my feet between his legs so he’ll warm them. His sweatpants are soft and warm as he closes them over my feet and grunts.

“I was asleep until someone woke me.”

His voice has a gravelly quality to it which makes me think he may have actually been asleep, but then, when I scoot in closer and his muscular arms go around me, I realize he’s lying his ass off.

“Liar,” I whisper into his chest. “When you sleep alone, you always take your shirt off first.”

He gets too hot and rarely sleeps in sweats and a t-shirt like he is now. Only when I’m in the bed, will he leave them on.

“I dozed off,” he argues.

“To game footage?”

He mumbles something I don’t bother asking him to repeat. I know what he was doing. He can’t lie to me.

“Take your shirt off and go to sleep.” I untangle myself and turn over, knowing he won’t remove his shirt with me in the bed. I also know he’ll wake up a dozen times hot and pissed with so many layers on. It wouldn’t be a problem if he would just get over his rules.

I sit up and pull his side of the comforter onto me. He’s stubborn and therefore will sweat to death. I’m saving us both. When I’m buried underneath a mound of covers that smell earthy and wholly Bennett, I close my eyes. Soon, his skin brushes against mine and a heavy arm drapes over me.

I burrow into his pillow, the one I use all the time, and get comfortable. We’ll discuss dinner another time. Why waste a perfectly good snuggle with an argument?

“Stop fidgeting,” he says, tightening his arm and securing my body to his, making moving a non-option.

I exhale. This is how I like to sleep: safe in stubborn ass’s arms. It’s excruciating and comforting all rolled into one.

Dammit. “I left my phone,” I whisper through the darkness.

“I set my alarm earlier.”

Because he knew I was coming.

“Oh, good.” I intertwine my fingers with the hand he has over me. He tenses for a moment, but then relaxes. “Can you set it about ten minutes earlier?”

“Sure. Why?”

“Because I need to yell at you tomorrow.”

He kisses my hair. Close, but not all the way to my head. Just a whisper of a touch, I’m sure he’ll regret. “You can yell on our run. Let’s just enjoy tonight.”

Bennett shifts and untangles himself from my arms.

I don’t speak because that’s not what we do when this happens. Our sleeping together doesn’t come without its hardships. Without its needs.

Slipping out of bed, Bennett lumbers into the bathroom. He doesn’t close the door and I pretend I’m asleep. We both know I’m not. Because we’ve done this more than we care to admit.

It’s something we don’t talk about.

It’s something we need.

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