Page 13 of Reckless Liar

“And you don’t want to sleep in the duplex alone?” he finished for me.

I paused, licking my lips, salt from the food clinging to them. He was right, of course. Since I’d returned from my parents, there wasn’t a single night that Xander wasn’t in the apartment with me, upstairs if I needed him. The idea of sleeping alone in the half-empty house scared me more than I wanted to admit. “It wasn’t part of my plan, no.”

“Well, I found a few camping things in a box when I was looking for a towel. The sleeping bags were in there.” He leaned forward, the legs of his stool hitting the linoleum with a thud. “I’ll go grab them.”

While he was gone, I fished the last piece of Chile Colorado out of its sauce, eating it off my fork. He walked back into the room, an oversized army green sack under his arm.

I hopped down from the stool, taking the bag from him. The gigantic green bag bulged as I tried to pull the sleeping bag out. Xander took it from my hands and loosened the drawstring top, opening the hole. I had to tug it hard to get it, but eventually I wrestled it out. I laid it on the ground, looking it over for a moment before laughing. “Where’s the opening? How am I supposed to sleep in this thing?”

He took it out of my arms and found the zipper, unzipping it. “It’s a mummy bag; it was my dad’s when he was in the Marines. He said it can stand up to twenty-degree weather.”

“I don’t need anything like that. I need a blanket.”

“Yeah, it gets a little hot inside, so don’t zip it up all the way. Most times I use it, I end up with half my body laying outside of it by morning.” He set it on the couch, leaving for a moment before returning with a pillow from his bed. I stood back as he made my bed for me, struck with how nice he was being. A warm feeling came over me as I watched him try to take care of me. It was bewildering how foreign the sensation was. After he had the sleeping bag all set up, he straightened, looking over at me with his warm hazel eyes. I realized I’d been staring at him as he worked. “What?” He looked from the bed and back to me. “Does it look okay? I know it’s not what you’re used to, but...”

“No, it’s great, Xan. Thank you.”

I tossed and turned on the couch, the moonlight coming in full force through the curtainless window. The sounds of the highway were loud compared to the quiet seclusion of our duplex. Even after unzipping the mummy bag, I was swelteringly hot. Staring up at the ceiling, going over happy moments in my life, remembering the first time I rode my bike to school by myself, my first kiss, the first time I took Max’s hand and I felt that jolt of something I couldn’t really identify. I only knew that my chest felt like it was filling up like a balloon and I had to look away, I was so overcome with emotion. I counted the shadows on the ceiling, grouping them in threes. After I had twenty-seven groups of three and one stray shadow, I sat up, frustrated. I wasn’t going to fall asleep. Getting up from the couch, I grabbed the pillow, making my way to Xander’s room. When we first looked at the apartment, he’d offered me the bigger room with the attached bathroom at the end of the hallway. His room was smaller. His door was ajar, and I stepped into the room. Xander lay on his back, a single fleece blanket crumpled up around him. No sheet on the mattress—a bare box spring and mattress resting on the floor. I walked over to his side and sunk down close to him.

He stirred and opened one eye to look at me. “What are you doing, An?” his voice was husky and low with sleep.

“I can’t sleep on the couch. It’s uncomfortable,” I said, my voice whinier than I intended it to be.

“No, it’s not. That couch is great,” he mumbled, his eyes closing again.

“Then you sleep on it,” I told him.

He opened one eye to glance at me. “I have a bed. I have my bedroom all set up.”

“A mattress on the floor is set up?” I snapped, annoyed.

“You were the one who planned the order we’d be bringing things here. You made a chart and everything,” he reminded me, fatigued.

I sighed, “I know.”

I waited him out and sure enough, after a minute, he rolled to the side away from me, patting the space next to him. “Come on, then.”

No discussion, no cajoling. He made room for me on his bed. Carefully, I laid my pillow on the bare mattress. “Thank you, Xan,” I whispered.

We climbed into bed, Xander pausing at the single blanket covering him, trying to decide whether he wanted to lie under it with me or not.

From this angle, I could see he’d nicked himself shaving. There was a slight cut below his chin. I studied him in the soft light of the parking lot. He looked so mature in the darkness. Had his face always been so striking? When did that happen? I held up my hand and softly touched the scab. “Did you put antibiotic ointment on this?” I asked quietly.

His eyes still closed; his jaw tightened. “No, it’s a little scratch.”

I held my finger to the spot, his pulse thrumming against my finger. A tingle from the contact of his skin traveled down my arm and into my chest. The moment to pull away from him was long gone. Slowly I slid my hand up to cup his jaw, the bristle of his unshaven face rough against my palm. My hand fit his face. How could I have known that?

Beside me, I could feel Xander take in a ragged breath, as if to say something.

I shouldn’t have touched him like that. It was inappropriate. Pulling my hand away, I tucked it under my cheek, trying to ignore the sensations touching him had created. After a moment, he sighed loudly. I felt his arm reach over me. For a moment, I thought he might try to hold me. Instead of placing his hand over me, he pulled the lightweight blanket up to my elbow, covering me.

“Goodnight, Liliana.”

I could feel the tears coming up. I kept my eyes shut. He was silent next to me. I listened as his breathing slowed. Outside, the wind whistled through the trees, the branches scraping against the window in a rhythmic tapping that seemed all too familiar.

Rolling away from Xander, I tucked my traitorous hands under my cheek. Across from me was Xander’s bookshelf, full of graphic novels, landscaping books, and business textbooks. Tucked between a copy ofGarden Ponds of the NorthwestandThe Tipping Pointwas a framed picture of Xander, Max, and me. I bought the frame at a two for one sale at Pier One years ago. Max and I had the same one in our room.

My room.

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