Page 321 of Rage

"It's okay. We're both beyond exhausted and need sleep. I'm not sure I could make it anywhere else, honestly. It's just a bed, and we're just going to sleep. It'll be fine."

It's not fine.

After eating less than half of my sandwich, I couldn't handle staying awake for even another minute and stumbled over to the bed. Levi stood awkwardly for a few minutes before I tiredly patted the spot next to me. "Just sleep," I said, halfway to dreamland already, then rolled over to give Levi some space. I was startled awake when he grabbed my foot and jerked. I hadn't even bothered to take my shoes off. I think I managed tomumble a thank you, or maybe an apology for having my shoes on the bed, but I can't really remember. I felt the bed dip next to me, and then I was out.

I don't know how long I've been asleep. I'm reluctant to open my eyes, but I have to pee.

There are blackout curtains blocking the windows, so it's dark, but there's a faint light coming in around the edges. It's just enough to make out a little detail in the room. I don't need light to see how much trouble I'm in, though. No, I can do that from feel alone.

Levi and I didn't merely roll into each other in our sleep. One of us didn't spoon the other or throw an errant hand over the other's body. No, we somehow completely entangled ourselves while we slept. We're facing each other, arms and legs entwined. My face is pressed into his chest and I'm holding him around his waist like he might try to escape. I'm practically straddling one of his thighs, and his other leg is thrown up over my hips. Thank goodness we both fell asleep fully dressed. Otherwise, the situation stirring behind the fly of my jeans might be a lot more uncomfortable than it is, which is saying something.

I should move away, extricate myself from the complicated knot of our limbs, and get some space, but I don't want to wake him. And, if I'm being honest with myself, I don't want to move away. He's so comfortable, and he smells good—like apples and something musky. I can smell my soap on him, too, which reminds me of our shower yesterday. The way my body lit up like a Christmas tree when he put his fingers inside me. I've never felt anything like it, and I?—

Nope. No sir, Adam. Stop it right now. Stop thinking of Levi Asher that way. He tricked you, like the snake he is.

Groan.

He's not a snake. I can't even pretend to hate him, or to distrust him like I obviously should—he admitted to lying to me. Using me.

He admitted to it. Knows he did wrong.

But he did it anyway.

He didn't want to.

But he did. He pretended to be interested in me, touched me, made me want him.

He didn't know it would be like this.

He should have been honest with me from the start.

He was protecting his sister.

He hurt me.

He said he was falling in love.

The two sides of my consciousness war with each other over what I should feel and want and what I actually feel and want.

Tilting my head, I look up at his face in the dim light. Even in sleep, he looks troubled, no sign of the easy-going guy I’ve come to know. His brow is furrowed, messy hair flopped over his face. I want to brush the errant strands from his face and kiss him awake. I want to tell him I love him, and that it doesn't matter how he came into my life, I'm still glad he's here.

I want to tell him I'm afraid of losing him, that even the thought of never again feeling the way I do when I'm with him hurts more than his betrayal. However uncertain the future is, whatever happens with my dad, the one thing that soothes my anxiety is imagining having Levi by my side. He makes me feel confident and happy.

It's too soon to feel this way, and it's probably unhealthy. But I'm not ready to give him up. The more I think about walking away from him, the more I realize I need him. I need him, and he needs me. He needs someone to lean on and support him under all the weight of his worry and fear and sadness for his sister.

Can we move past the lies, knowing he did the wrong thing for the wrong reasons, but did so from a place of hurt and fear?

If he wasn't sincere, he wouldn't have admitted to the truth. He would have taken his evidence and walked away. Instead, he stayed and confessed, not just to manipulating me, but to falling for me along the way. And he let me come with him when I didn't have anywhere else to go.

He wouldn't go through all of this for nothing.

I want him.

I want him.

Eventually, I can't wait any longer to get up. I need the bathroom and at least six inches of space to think clearly.

Despite my efforts to move slowly and carefully, I'm not able to extricate my arm from beneath his back without stirring him awake. When he blinks his eyes open, I'm hovering awkwardly above his chest.

---