Page 45 of All Superheroes Need PR
“Of course. I mean, yes. You can crash here for as long as you want.”You can move in, if you want.It’s on the tip of my tongue to say it, but I know better than that. We need to talk.
“Thank you, Nessa.”Nessa.“Your guest room upstairs?”
“Um ... yeah, that’s the thing.” He starts into my house, closing the door at his back, and I chase him up the stairs as he starts to stomp up them without me. Well, notchaseso much as hobble behind him.
“What’s the thing?” he says, pausing halfway up. “And you’re not supposed to be on your feet.” He grunts, looking upset.
I can’t believe he’s still only in his boxer shorts. I can see medical equipment dangling off his legs. Oh my gosh. “You’re still hurt!”
“Yeah. I’d like to sleep. I’ll find a bedroom. Stay down here unless you’re coming to bed too.”
“I wasn’t ... planning on it yet. And I can sleep in the living room. No worries.”
“No. Not interested in that arrangement. You give a holler when you want to come upstairs, and I’ll carry you.”
I frown, pouting as he moves up another step, and I quickly switch underneath his arm so that I’m standing on the stair above him. It puts us nearly at eye level. It’s so intense. I’m never eye level with him, and this is a level of ... closeness I’m not sure I’m ready for ... I just needed to stop him and explain.
“I’m not going to wake you up. Not after everything you did.”
“After everything I did foryou.” His eyes are light pink, white around the pupil, but the longer he stares at me, the lighter his pupils get too. “I’m sorry, Nessa. I am a fucking asshole. I didn’t think about your stuff ... Didn’t mean to call you what I did.”
I inhale deeply, startled by the abrupt change in conversation but grateful he brought it up. When I exhale, I taste relief. “Me either.”
We stand there for another few seconds, uncomfortable ones, but not because I’m still upset. I have the strange desire to reach out and touch him. I manage to restrain myself at the last second, remembering that downstairs he was the one to pull away. Awkwardly, I turn to the side and cock my thumb over my shoulder instead.
“Let me, um ... show you the bed.” I cannot believe how dirty that sounded and wince. He chuckles. While mortification blankets me, I bite my bottom lip and immediately turn and limp up the next step, only for my feet to be swept in the next second. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You can barely walk! Put me down.”
“Not until we get to the top.” He doesn’t set me down then either. Instead, he moves to the left, down the short hall to my room. To the right should have been the other bedroom, but I turned it into a library à laBeauty and the Beast—or Hannibal Lecter’s. There’s a third bedroomup here that’s my office. He peeks inside before moving to the door at the end of the hall.
He steps into my bedroom and only then sets me down. He does a slow turn, only one revolution, taking in the built-in bookcase surrounding my bed, my wide, curved windows that overlook the street below, the reading nook and benches covered in funky, colorful pillows. This is my private little sanctuary. Nobody’s ever been in here before.
“This your room?” he says, glancing past me as if the guest bedroom he expected to find will suddenly make its presence known.
I nod. “That’s what I was trying to tell you before. I ... um ... Well, I never have guests over, so I got rid of my guest room. I only have the one bed. But like I said, I’ll sleep downstairs. It’s no biggie.”
His eyebrows are high on his forehead, making him look like a cartoon character. His mouth opens and closes like a fish. His eyes are big, and the way he holds himself, this big brute of a male covered in war wounds ... he looks so vulnerable.
“I promise. It’s not a big deal.”
“Nessa,” he says in a rough, rough timbre, speaking the moment I start to turn back toward the door. “Not a chance. We’re sharing the bed.”
“Oh ... I ... no.”
“It’s a king, not a big deal. I swear I’m not gonna try to ... make a move or anything.”
Oh my gosh, this is so ... notcool!“Oh, I, um ... it’s not ...”
“I know you’re upset with me, but I’m hurting and need sleep. You look like you need sleep too. You haven’t been staying up watching my feeds, have you?”
I don’t try to lie. I just shake my head. “I’m not ... I’ve never ...”
“I know you’re still pissed at me. I swear to God, I’m not gonna try anything. I’m too tired for that.”
I’m embarrassed that he thinks that I think he’s a pervert, so embarrassed that I fail to control my volume when I shout, “I’ve never done that before.”
He waits for me to say more. I don’t. I just shift my weight between my feet, forcing him to finally blurt, “What?”
“Slept with a guy. Like, overnight. I’m not a virgin, but I’m ... I’ve just never done the sleeping part.” It feels too intimate. Too vulnerable. An exchange of far, far too much trust.
