Page 25 of Because of Me

“I can’t. I mean, I shouldn’t. I mean, I think it would be weird?”

Noah laughs a little, the movement in his chest jostling the bed.

“Why?”

Rolling over I turn the light back on and sit up. With my back against the headboard I pull my knees to my chest. “I don’t show off my body to people unless I’m … you know …showing off. I’d never wear shorts and a tiny singlet in front of friends, it feels weird to start now.”

Noah gulps audibly. I still haven’t looked at him, but feel the mattress shift again as he sits up.

“Do you want to put the pillow wall back up?”

A traitorous tear spills down my cheek. I don’t know if I’m thankful for his offer, or upset it has come to this, or maybe both. He doesn’t hesitate to support me, even when I don’t know what’s going on in my brain so I can’t expect him to understand.

“No, it’s fine. This is a me problem, you shouldn’t have to suffer with limited bed space because of my oppressive upbringing and inability to leave my father’s views completely in the past.”

“Is that why? Because of your parents.”

I drop my head between my knees and sob. “Yes. Growing up, he would always nitpick my clothing, disapproving of anything that dared show off my developing figure or anything more than a tiny hint of skin. I was raised to hide my body, and once I was old enough, I rebelled in truly spectacular fashion.”

The knees of my tracksuit become damp from my tears. Using my sleeve, I wipe my face dry. I’ve cried enough tears over it, there’s no need for more. With a long inhale, I roll my shoulders up and back, and tip my head up against the bedhead. Noah places a hand on my knee. With his thumb tracing tiny circles on the wet patch of my pants, his touch calms my irrational distress. Without saying a word, he makes me feel heard and understood.

“I wore the skimpiest outfits for a while, but every time I stepped out of the house I felt like a million disappointed eyes followed me everywhere. Eventually, I went back to covering up.”

“Amira, I say this with no judgement, I just want to understand, okay?” His voice is deep and timber and warm.

“What?”

“What do you mean when you say, ‘unless you’re showing off’?”

A laugh catches in my throat, and I snort. “Unless I’m about to fuck someone?”

Noah’s hand freezes and he tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Is it because they’re getting naked too?”

I shrug. “I think so. I feel less exposed when they have just as few layers on.”

“Does it help I have no shirt on?”

Meekly, I nod. He has far less clothes on than me. Even if I did strip down into my pyjama shorts and singlet.

“Would it help if I rolled over? I won’t face you?”

“Is that what you want?”

With a groan, Noah leans away from me. “I want the opposite, Amira. I’d love to feel how soft your skin is and find out if that gorgeous blush of yours spreads further down your neck. I’d love to see who you are under all those layers. Not just your clothes, butyou. I want to get to know you and learn all your secrets. But your comfort is more important. So, if that means rolling to the side and keeping my back to you all night, I will.”

Another tear spills over, only this one is definitely because of his words, not my internal voice. I want to see him too. And I want him to see me.

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

Before I can change my mind, I stand from the bed. Noah watches me so intently I don’t think he blinks. In front of the dresser, I pull my tracksuit pants down, inch by inch, keeping my eyes locked on Noah’s. To his credit, he doesn’t drop his gaze from mine. I step out of my pants and into the tiny pair of satin shorts, so short they end up hidden under the hem of my oversized jumper. Noah’s tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. His hands are gripping the blanket underneath him.

My heart races as I pull my jumper over my head, cautious not to bring the lacey singlet up with it. I turn before taking it off completely, needing a minute to get my shit together before I turn back to Noah. I feel exposed and scared and awkward and … maybe a little wanted.

And I feel a lot of wanting. But … we can’t. Right?

I’m trying to convince myself as I fold up my jumper and drop it into the top drawer. My eyes are wide and my brow a little furrowed, and in the mirror I catch Noah’s gaze. His eyes are soft, his mouth slightly parted.

“Come back to bed, Cupcake,” he says with a smirk.

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