Page 60 of Undeniable

“You first,” I said and thankfully, he didn’t argue. He awkwardly lifted one leg to the windowsill, but quickly he stepped back out into the dirt to reassess. He did the same thing with the other leg, only to realize the window was smaller than he remembered and harder to crawl through as a fully grown adult. And before I could stop him, he tumbled through the window headfirst.

He fell against the bedside table and rolled until the end of the bed stopped his forward momentum. With an unceremonious groan, he winced and rubbed at his lower back.

I barely suppressed my laughter as I also awkwardly crawled through the window and closed it as quietly as I could behind me.

When I turned around, James was still clutching his back as he rounded the foot of the bed. With about as much grace as he’d shone tumbling through the window, he sank down onto the trundle.

I crossed the dark space, the moonlight streaming through the window as my only guide, and stopped in front of my bedroom door. I opened it as quietly as I could.

“Where are you going?” James questioned far too loudly from the other side of the room.

I gave him a frustrated look that he probably couldn’t see but said, “I’ll be right back.”

My steps were silent as I made my way down the hallway and into the kitchen. There were so many of my family members asleep in the living room that there was barely a sliver of floor space left. We would’ve never made it through the minefield of sleeping bodies, especially with a drunk and less-than-graceful James.

I opened the refrigerator, pulled two water bottles from the top shelf and closed it before I woke anyone up with the light. On my way back to my room, I stopped in the bathroom and found the aspirin in the medicine cabinet as well.

If it weren’t for the fact that we genuinely did need his help the following day with not only finishing last-minute setup but also manning one of the refreshment booths, I would’ve let him fend for himself. I would have gladly let him suffer for his stupid decision, but making sure he was okay the next day was more of a favor for everyone involved.

James was just slipping under the covers when I stepped back into the room.

Without a word, I handed him both bottles of water and the bottle of aspirin. He took two pills and chugged an entire bottle of water as I slipped into bed.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” James whispered the moment my head hit the pillow.

I decided not to respond, instead I rolled over with my back to him and pulled the blankets higher around my chin. For several minutes I lay there, willing sleep to pull me under even as my mind raced. With all distractions gone, my thoughts grew heavy and restless.

Only a few inches above the floor and on the other side of the bed, I knew James wasn’t asleep either. He was restless, turning over constantly, and I knew the thoughts plaguing him were similar to mine.

With the door shut and everyone else in the house already asleep, it was like the silence between us was at full volume.

A cloud obscured the light of the moon and plunged the room deeper into darkness.

I lay on my left side, but it wasn’t working. I turned on to my back and stared up at the ceiling and the slow, continuous spin of the fan that did nothing to put me at ease. I hoped it would hypnotize me into a restful slumber, but I really was shit out of luck.

Finally, I tucked my pillow farther under my head and lay on my right side.

The clouds dissipated enough that I could just make out the outline of James’s side.

He lay on his back, propped up on his pillows with his hands tucked behind his head. He stared toward the ceiling fan and that little bit of light that crept in reflected in his eyes. It was too dark to see the blue of them or to make out the faint scar I knew he had on his upper cheek. But that didn’t keep me from imagining them.

He could have seen me. From where I lay, he could have easily glanced up and caught me staring, but it was like he was also so lost in his thoughts that everything else around him was secondary.

I never allowed myself to look at him. It was too risky to let my gaze linger for too long, but finally, in the near dark, I allowed my eyes to roam over him.

His hair was mussed and his lips shined like he’d recently wetted them. And my traitorous mind picked that moment to consider that those were the same lips I’d kissed so many times. So many times before that, I’d lost count.

He’d opted only for the thin sheet my mom had placed on the bed. The thicker blanket gathered around his feet as he shifted slightly, yet enough to make the trundle bed creak beneath him. The sound was enough to break my concentration, and I looked away toward the window above my desk and at the front of the house just as he asked, “How did it start?”

His voice was hoarse, the words coming out sounding slightly broken and husky.

He continued staring at the ceiling and I sucked in a breath that sounded twice as loud in the silent room. Thankfully, he didn’t turn to look at me.

I knew what he was asking, but I was silent for a long time. With each second that ticked by, I became more wary of whether I should or shouldn’t answer. But finally, when I heard him release a deep breath and the covers around him rustled as he turned, I let the darkness act as a shield and I flung the words out into the abyss.

“When I came back to Willowwood, we lived next door to one another. It was… easy and familiar. He was safe.”

“I thought you didn’t havethosetypes offeelings for him.”

---