Page 52 of Wicked Games

“How did I get in here?” He looks between me and his bed. “What the hell happened last night?”

“You don’t remember your Ambien dream?”

He tries to look confused but fails epically. “My what?”

“You’re telling me you weren’t hopped up on Ambien last night?”

He winces and scrubs a hand through his messy hair. “You figured that out?”

“It wasn’t hard after you climbed into my bed and insisted on snuggling with me.”

His jaw drops like it was unhinged, and I laugh.

“I snuggled you?” he croaks.

“Yup. Aggressively so. You were like a giant kitten. I swear I even heard you purring at one point. Or maybe you were snoring. It’s hard to tell.”

“Did I do anything else?” He pales slightly. “Did we…?

“Are you asking if we fucked around?”

He nods, just a quick tick of his chin.

“No. I was a perfect gentleman.” I shoot him a smirk-smile. “It’s no fun when you don’t fight back.”

He looks relieved, but that quickly melts into a look of embarrassment. “Sorry about…all this.”

“What else did you take last night?”

He looks away. “Nothing.”

“No Ativan?”

He shakes his head.

“How many Ambien did you pop?”

“Two,” he breathes.

“Why?” He squirms under my scrutiny. “Was it because of your nightmare?”

He nods, his eyes big and liquid and so full of innocence my stomach clenches uncomfortably. Sometimes I forget he’s only nineteen, and even though he acts like an emotionless robot who doesn’t feel anything, he’s really just a kid trying to navigate the fucked-up world we live in.

“Did I say anything last night?” he asks softly.

“You said a lot of things.”

His horror is written all over his face.

“You kept calling me Teddy and said you missed me. You said Teddy is the only one who helps with your dreams.”

He drops his face in one hand and lets out a low groan. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Nope, not joking. Who’s Teddy?”

“Huh?” He drops his hand and shoots me a confused look.

“Who the fuck is Teddy?”

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