Page 60 of Lessons in Forgiving
Obviously I wasn’t.I’d already been in bed, waiting to turn off the lights after a day that had felt twenty-five hours long.
So, no pants. In the middle of the room.
My hoodie wasn’t oversized enough to cover the important bits, cutting off just over my hips and leaving everything below my thighs for all the world to see. Mainly, Henry. He was the only one in the room.
Mortified, my eyes widened, and I fled behind the only door in the room. Slammed it shut a little too loudly, then hid in the bathroom.
Technically, yes, Henry Pressley had seen me with much less on. But that’s when he hadn’t just been Henry,friend. Or Henry,subject of my profile.
It’s when he’d still been Henry,boyfriend whom I’d loved dearly.
I spent as much time as I could justify in the bathroom, and only came out when he’d probably started to wonder if I’d flushed myself down the toilet.
I wish I could’ve.
Still with no pants, but a jersey that covered up much more, I rushed to my side of the bed without looking at him. My gaze only briefly swept across his seated form on the door-side of the bed, and I didn’t even notice his exposed chest, covers draped only across his legs.
I also didn’t notice the way he couldn’t take his eyes off me once they slid away from his phone. That was definitely a figment of my imagination. From the lack of sleep, lingering coffee and twenty-five-hour day.
He watched in amusement as I slipped under the covers we shared, and stayed so close to the edge of the bed, I couldn’t play it off as anything but intentional.
“We can build a pillow wall,” he offered unhelpfully, entirely too amused by the situation. “If you want.”
Did this not affect him at all?I felt stupid, all of a sudden.
“What?” I waved him off—as if I hadn’t been two seconds away from suggesting it myself. I scooted further onto the bed, holding steady eye contact with the red light coming from the turned-off TV on the opposite wall. “I used to share a twin with two of my cousins. I’m sure we can manage a king. Right?”
“Right,” he agreed, and the gruff sound of his voice finally drew my eyes.
He’d turned away to cut the lights, his muscled shoulders, his defined back facing me. I had all of a second to marvel at both before darkness enveloped us.
I sank into the mattress, too. Turned the opposite way—to the window with a view of the lit-up city that never slept. I thought I’d probably join it tonight.
It felt awkwardly quiet. I could hear his breath behind me, which meant he could hear me breathing, too. I felt every single one of his movements, every shrug and every repositioning of his arm. Which meant I stayed eerily still, and he’d probably noticed that, too.
I tugged on the blanket just a little, adjusted my position and screamed at my bodywe will fall asleep like this now, and we won’t wake up until the alarm forces us to.
Henry had other ideas.
“I forgot you’re a blanket hogger,” he whispered into the dark. I could hear the amusement in his voice, the grin on his face. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was there.
I unintentionally mirrored the sentiment when I said, “My only fault. I can admit to that.”
He snorted a laugh, breaking the quiet that had only been disturbed by our breathing and whispered voices before. The sound made me turn. I wanted to glare at him even if he might not see. Only to make a point.
But he was closer than I’d anticipated, and I forgot to glare.
“What?” I managed to hiss, voice still hushed as if there were a thousand other people in the room with us and I didn’t want to wake them.
Henry was laying on his back, and I watched his head turn to me slowly, almost cruelly so, before his brow rose.
“Youronlyfault, is it?”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, Pressley.” I wished I could stop smiling to sell this better.
“Oh, nothing.” He trailed off, disingenuous eye-roll accompanying the words. “You’re an angel, Paula Castillo. I’m sorry.”
I huffed. “That’s what I thought.”
