Page 104 of The Promise Of You

“I said, We are the food.”

“You said, ‘Ergo, we are the food’.”

“So? It means—”

He links his hands behind his nape. “I know what it means, I just think it’s cute how you use it when you’re riled up.”

I huff and slide to Moose, giving him a pet on the head. He exhales loudly and stretches out on his side, ready to resume his night.

“We can sleep inside the cab, if you’re scared,” Justin says. He’s sitting upright on the blanket, his legs outstretched in front of him.

“Should we?”

His voice dips down. “Only if it makes you feel safer.”

My insides melt at his concerned tone, my temporary annoyance gone. I’m not going to deny the fact that everything now brings me back to Boston. The fact that we’re stranded in the night. The fact that he’s taking care of me.

Taking care of my fears.

My gaze darts between the cab and the flatbed. “I like it better here.”

He moves so he’s lying on his back. “Come on,” he says, patting that space right next to him. “I wanna get a little sleep.” His voice is gravelly and soft at the same time. He smooths the blanket out for me and leaves his arm extended.

Not wanting to make assumptions, I lie on my back, farther down, my head on my folded arms and not where it wants to be—on his arm. “You didn’t get any sleep?” I ask, my eyes safely fixed on the stars.

I feel his body turn toward me. “Nope.”

“Because of the bears?”

“Nope.”

“Then why?”

His voice dips. “Because of you.” His arm nudges closer to the top of my head, his bent elbow nesting me to him.

My heartbeat is at its max. Surely he can hear it. I continue to resist looking at him, again not wanting to make assumptions. “Do I snore?” I snap.

His soft chuckle is the only response.

“Ohmygod, I snore.” Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?

“You don’t snore.”

Good. Then back to his answer—‘because of you.’

“I was looking at you sleep. You never gave me your peaceful sleep, so I took it.”

My head whips to him, my breathing labors, and my throat clenches. “I never… what?” I wet my lips.

“I held you while you slept in the elevator. You were tense.” He trails the space between my eyebrows. For a moment, I feel like he might bring his finger to my lips, but he retreats and adds, “Then after we made love in the bedroom, I fell asleep and woke up to a cold and empty bed. Never got to see you sleep peacefully.”

Is he seriously bringing up making love? Not having sex, not fucking, not doing it. No, he says ‘making love’ and he says it with reverence, after he told me we’re just friends. How am I supposed to deal with this?

Going with attack as the best defense, I answer, “Is this some kind of fetish? Like, do you have a list of things you need to check off during your one-night stands?”

In the softening glow of predawn, his eyes register hurt, and his head jerks back a bit. Then he softens and says, “You’re beautiful when you sleep, Clover. I knew you would be. But then I saw it last night, and I couldn’t get enough of it.” His eyes roam my face, pausing on my lips. His arm that was behind my head closes in on me, trailing down my side, his fingers playing against my ribs. “And just so you know, you weren’t one of my one-night stands.”

Now it’s my head that jerks back, caught immediately in the nook of his warm, hard arm as he clenches around me, bringing me closer to him. “You were not.” He dips his head closer to mine, our foreheads almost touching, and his voice lowers to a murmur. “You were so much more than that. That’s why I was so pissed when I found you’d left without saying goodbye. And why I was still pissed a week later, when you came into my pub to bust my balls about the…” his lips get close to mine, “fucking…” his tongue darts out, “rent.” He’s moved his body over mine, not touching but almost, one arm cushioning my head, the other holding himself slightly up so he’s not crushing me. The stars behind him pale, dawn peeking to our right, his intoxicating scent mellowing me to the core. All I see is his face over mine, the sky, and the stars behind him, and I want this moment to last forever.

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