Page 17 of Yellow
I bit my lip. “How long will she be gone, you think?”
“A few days… I don’t know for sure. Look, I’m beat, it’s been a very long day.” He looked around and frowned. “Where am I sleeping?”
“I don’t know – when I got here, your aunt told me to sleep wherever I wanted and we ended up sharing the bed.”
His brow shot up. “You slept with Ona?”
“I call her Onava, and there’s no need to make it sound gross. All we did was sleep.”
“I didn’t, that’s your own interpretation,” he said dismissively. “But unlike my aunt, I don’t share a small bed with a stranger, so how about one of us takes the sofa?”
“Be my guest,” I said with an indifferent shrug.
He grunted in the direction of the small two-person sofa, which would in no way be big enough for him to stretch out on. “I’m much taller than you.”
“So?”
“So you would be more comfortable on the couch than me.”
“Maybe, but I prefer the bed.”
“Then let’s say I take the first night on the couch and then we switch.”
“Not much of a gentleman, are you?”
“Nope, just a pragmatic Native.”
I lifted my chin. “If you want to break your back on that small uncomfortable sofa, that’s your choice.”
With an annoyed huff he took a few steps and opened Onava’s closet. “There’s no extra duvet.”
“What do you usually do when you come to visit?” I asked and laid my head down on the pillow.
Adam was roaming the small place, looking for something to use. “I’ve only been here in the summer and then I bring a tent and sleep outside.”
“So you’ve never slept in here.”
“No, but I assumed she had an extra blanket or a sleeping bag.”
“There’s a throw-over on the couch,” I said in a loud yawn.
“This thing?” He held up the crocheted throw-over, sticking his finger through. “It wouldn’t cover me.”
Ignoring the curses that he muttered under his breath, I pulled the duvet up to my nose and yawned again.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” I cried when my cover was being pulled off.
“I want half of it,” he said and stopped when the cover reached my belly.
“Have you lost your mind? It’s a double duvet, you can’t have halfandsleep on the couch. Why can’t you just lie down and sleep like a normal person?”
“A normal person doesn’t sleep with a stranger,” he bit back.
Tired and irritated with him, I sat up and pulled hard at the duvet. “Look mister, this isn’t the sixteenth century, and we’re not in some cliché movie where sleeping in the same bed equals having sex. If you’re tired, lie down and sleep. If your religion, marital status, or fear of women in general prevents you from sleeping next to me, then sleep in your car, on the floor, or in the kitchen sink for all I care. Just be quiet and stop whining.”
“Whining?” He looked like I had accused him of high treason, but snatched a pillow from the bed and spun around to pick up his jacket and the throw-over.
I closed my eyes and listened to him brush his teeth by the sink, turn out the light, and plant himself on the couch, with annoyingly loud huffs and puffs.
Am I really strange for not minding sleeping next to strangers?
As an actor I was used to being close to people whom I had no romantic feelings for. When a script called for bed scenes I often had to be intimate with a co-actor while the movie crew watched us at the same time. I was used touncomfortable.I was used to having little to no privacy.
Adam was tossing and turning, and I guessed he wasn’t very comfortable. A smile tugged at my lips. He deserved a bit of misery after the way he treated me at the bar. He was the most arrogant and standoffish man I had met in a long time. You didn’t need to be a mind reader to figure out he didn’t like me much.But guess what, Adam Black, I don’t like you either!
