Page 123 of Saving Sparrow
“Yeah, of course.” He scooted over so I could sit on the edge of the bed next to him.
“This is stupid, you know. You should be in bed with me. Inourbed. I can’t sleep without you.”
“You’ve been sleeping without me for weeks.” He sounded hurt.
“We’ve been tossing and turning and snapping at each other to stay still.” I left out all the other stuff we’d been doing, the things Quentin had been doing to me. I was sure Elliott heard it all, though. “I’m exhausted.”
This time, his smile was shy, his cheeks going as red as his tired eyes. “Me too, and I failed the history test.”
“So did I.” I’d spent the whole class looking over at him. I hadn’t even gotten halfway through the test when the bell rang. “I should’ve been able to pass that withmy eyes closed.”
“Maybe Mr. Valin will let us take a make-up test. Or give us extra credit to bring our grades up.”
“Maybe.” We’d gotten accepted into Wembly under academic scholarships, so not maintaining our GPAs until graduation could have jeopardized it. “Tell me about your dream. What were we doing?” I wanted to fix the stubborn strap on his nightgown. It was my job to fix it. I tucked my hands under my arms to stop myself from doing it.
Elliott blew out a long breath as he blinked up at the ceiling. His unshed tears were gone when he looked at me again.
“It must have been some dream, huh?” I gave him a shaky smile. His reaction worried me.
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, angling his head away so his hair hid his face from me. I needed to see him, needed to see his feelings play out as he told me about the dream.
Without planning to, I placed my fingertips under his jaw, tilting his head up. His skin was soft, warm, and flushed in the spot I touched. “Here.” I handed him the elastic band I habitually kept around my wrist for him. Elliott tied his hair back at his nape.
“Thanks,” I said, able to see all of him now. He nodded before diving into the details of the dream.
“You and Quentin were…” he paused, biting the inside of his cheek.
“We were…” I prompted softly.
“You were having sex. In your bed.”
“Inourbed,” I corrected.
“Yeah, in our bed.” He paused again, then shook his head like he thought he was being ridiculous. His tone was less nervous when he spoke again. “You were on your hands and knees, and Quentin was behind you. He wasinsideof you. He moved fast and hard, cursing, telling you all the things he planned on doing to you.”
The dream lined up with how things typically went down. I listened without interrupting.
“But then things changed. He was still behind you, still inside of you. But now…” his voice dropped to a whisper, “…but now I was underneath you, andyouwere inside ofme.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that. “That was, um, some dream.” I shifted on the bed. “Is that why, uh, why you looked sad when I walked in?”Did he hate the idea of us together like that, even in a dream? That possibility stung. “Sometimes dreams can be weird. They don’t have to mean anything.”
“That’s the thing…” he started, “…it wasn’t weird. At least not to me. And it meanteverything.” He gripped the blanket between his fists, but he didn’t look away.
“W-what are you saying, Ellie?”
“I’m saying I have feelings for you and Quentin, and I don’t know how to make them stop.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “Being in here by myself doesn’t help; it only makes me want you more. It makes me sad.”
“Oh, Ellie.” I pulled him into a hug. My heart broke and pieced together at the same time because I hated seeing him like this, but hewantedus.
“What are we gonna do?” He sniffled.
“We’re going to figure it out. We’re gonna make it work because… because we want you too.”
Elliott stiffened, pulling back slowly. A strand of hair clung to his wet cheek, his blue eyes shimmering so bright they almost blinded me. “You… youwhat?”
I kissed his cheek, then licked the salty wetness from my lips. He watched my tongue snake out of my mouth and licked his own lips in response. I wanted so many things right then.
“We should’ve told you sooner.” I fixed his strap. “Quentin wanted to, but he likes to act without thinking.Icouldn’t stop thinking about all the ways telling you could go wrong.”
