Page 43 of Perfect Score

Zoey

I hear Brent enter the room, and the soft pad of his feet against the floor as he heads for the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the space, followed by the sound of him brushing his teeth. I try to stay still, keeping my breathing even as I wipe awaythe last traces of tears from my cheeks. I don’t want him to know I’ve been crying.

The bathroom light flicks off, and the room dims again. Brent moves around the bed, his presence somehow bigger than the space itself as he climbs under the covers. There’s a moment of silence, the bed dipping under his weight, and then his voice, gentle and low, breaks through the quiet.

“Zoey? Are you still awake?”

My heart clenches. “Yes…” I whisper.

“Are you crying?”

“No,” I answer quickly, though the lump in my throat betrays me.

He doesn’t buy it. I hear him shift closer, his voice filled with concern. “What can I do to help?”

I don’t answer. My emotions are too tangled, too raw.

A pause, then he asks softly, “Would a hug help?”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. He must feel the movement of my head against the pillow because without hesitation, Brent wraps his arms around me from behind, pulling me close against his chest. His warmth engulfs me, his strong arms crossing over my chest, holding me tightly. I let out a long, shaky breath, the tension easing out of me as I relax into his touch, letting him soothe me. Something I never thought he'd be capable of.

I didn’t realize just how much I needed this—needed him.

“Is that better?” he asks, his voice a gentle rumble against my ear.

“Yeah,” I nod, my head tucked under his chin, my breathing finally steadying.

Brent doesn’t move, just holds me like that, as if he’s willing to carry all of my broken pieces for a little while. And for the first time in hours, I don’t feel so alone.

"What happened tonight?" he asks, softly.

"Nothing… he basically told me that he wants me physically but he's still with her."

Brent pulls me even tight as if to make me feel better.

"I'm sorry. I know that's not what you wanted to hear."

"I just want to fall asleep and forget today," I tell him.

His chin nods against the top of my head. "Then go to sleep Zoe," he says, using the nickname he used to use in high school. My heart squeezes and just for a moment, he's not the Brent who hurt me, he's the Brent from freshman year. The Brent in Homeroom and Spanish class. The one who used to share his snacks with me.

"Then fall asleep," he tells me. "Do you want me to let go?"

If he lets go, I might fall apart again. But I don't want him to be uncomfortable sleeping like this.

"Do you have to?" I ask, feeling a little selfish.

He settles in a little more behind me, getting comfortable for a long night. "No, I don't have to, but I already warned you on the plane, sometimes I talk in my sleep."

I grin at the idea of Brent talking in his sleep on out-of-town games. "I won't hold it against you."

It doesn't take long for me to succumb to the stress of this day, and I fall asleep.

Something stirs me awake, and I open my eyes.

Brent's voice fills the space around me.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking beautiful," he says behind me.

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