Page 65 of (Sur)real
A stab of regret hit me before I could stop it. Blake’s impatience immediately followed. This time, I did cringe. I’d slipped too many times in just a few hours. I would need to call him before I went to bed, and I dreaded it.
Someone walking in the hall stopped to knock on our door, distracting me from my suppressed misery. Jim crossed the room to answer. The person’s shape looked familiar, but I hadn’t been with the group long enough to easily identify each of them yet.
I watched Jim accept something as I carefully removed my shirt. The open wounds twinged, but Winifred’s bandages held firm. Quickly changing with a back flayed by the Others proved impossible. Every move I executed, I did slowly and with purpose. It took a few tries to get the new shirt back on. By the time I finished, Jim had closed the door and resumed his wandering.
The bra, which had ridden high on my back prior to the Others taking their due, lay on the floor. My brow already glistened from the effort of putting a shirt on. The thought of the bra accidently rubbing the top of my wounds had me turning away. I wouldn’t be wearing it again for a long while.
Holding out my hand, I felt for the handle and opened the door. Jim turned from his position near the room’s work table and faced me.
My back ached with each step as I walked toward him. It needed to be checked to ensure I hadn’t made the wounds bleed again with all my moving around. I knew that. However, I honestly just wanted to lay on my stomach and sleep while the world worried about its own problems for a while. The thought made the deeply hidden part of me want to cry. As much as I wanted to hide from my fate, I couldn’t.
I was so wrapped up in my thoughts, I didn’t immediately recognize the silence or the tense way Jim held himself as he faced me. Stopping, I glanced around the room at the Others, trying to understand what might be wrong. They seemed to be swirling around normally.
Shifting my attention back to Jim, I suppressed my apprehension.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Your shirt.” His rough words didn’t help ease my nervousness.
I smoothed my hand over the front of it, feeling the soft material. The softest shirt I owned. I’d packed it knowing what would happen, knowing I’d need something comfortable. It was one of my favorite sleep shirts.
“Is it stained?” I asked. I always washed my own clothes, making it difficult to know if I’d ruined something until Blake commented on it, which he hadn’t.
“No.” That single word came out in a whoosh like I’d hit him.
“Is it an ugly color? Tell me.”
He reached out and trailed the knuckle of his first finger along my collar bone.
“I can see through it. Every beautiful detail. And I want—” He groaned, clutched at his chest, and collapsed to his knees.
I barely paid him attention as understanding, followed immediately by disgust, filled me. Jim could see through my shirt. He could see my breasts. I didn’t care about Jim seeing. I cared about how many times I’d worn this shirt before this moment. Blake had always complimented me on it when he’d come to lock me in my room for the night. I’d worn it often because he would be less cold.
Bile rose in my throat, and I staggered a step to sit on the bed. He would touch my cheek gently and kiss me good night. I’d never felt lust. But, deep down, I knew it had been there.
Jim’s choking noise drew my attention. The Others swirled around him in excitement. I moved quickly, hurting my back, and knelt beside him.
“Jim.” I reached out and placed my hand against his cheek. Sweat wet my palm. “This was my favorite shirt to wear to bed.”
“Not helping,” he panted between pained grunts.
“Blake saw me in it every time he locked me in my room for the night. He never said anything when he looked at me. But I would always feel…something from him. I ignored it. Pretended it wasn’t there. You need to do the same. Ignore what you feel for me. You can’t die now, Jim. I can’t do this alone.”
His hand gripped mine, pressing my fingers more firmly into his cheek. Gradually, his breathing slowed, and he turned his face, brushing his lips against the palm of my hand. My heart thumped heavily in my chest at the sensation. Dangerous. I swallowed hard and pushed what I wanted to feel aside.
The tickling warmth of his breath against the skin of my hand made my insides go hot and cold.
I tried to stand, but he didn’t release my hand.
“Go lay on the bed,” he said. “On your stomach.”
That just made my insides act crazier. He inhaled deeply and gave another choked groan.
“You smell so good.”
“Not helping,” I said nervously, repeating his words. “My insides are going crazy, and I don’t know how well I’m holding it all back from Blake. If he suspects I’m with an interested male—”
“He’ll send everyone he has at us,” Jim said. He released me, his reluctance shown in the drag of his fingers against the back of my hand.
