Page 25 of Losing Sleep
“How late are we talking? You know I turn into a pumpkin after 10:00,” I said. I did not do late nights well. My anxiety had a tendency to wake me up early, no matter when I went to bed.
“It wouldn’t be a trip to the cabin without late night movies and treats,” Tory insisted, leading the way back upstairs. “I didn’t even bring any chick flicks this time. It’s going to be all action and comedy this weekend. No hints of romance allowed, as promised.”
One of Tory’s arguments for getting me on the trip had been that it would just be a bunch of friends hanging out without dating or romantic pressures. She knew how much I resisted setups after things had fallen apart with Lyle. I decided to ignore Tory and Trent’s current hand-holding and the fact that they would spend the entirety of any movie snuggling—or more.
I avoided committing to the movie for the moment as I deposited my bag in one of the rooms upstairs and changed into sweats and a hoodie. Trying to chase away the cold of the basement, I pulled on my thickest socks and walked into the kitchen for food, curious to see what else the day would hold.
Chapter Twelve
Between a late lunch,unpacking, and a hike to a nearby pond, the day passed quickly. After dinner, we’d all gone our separate ways for a bit, and I took the opportunity to do some simple stretches in my room. While not a full-on yoga flow, it was enough to relieve stiff muscles and let go of some lingering stress. Since arriving at the cabin, I’d received no less than twenty work messages. I’d ignored them so far but knowing the notifications waited put me on edge.
I’m allowed to take PTO, I reminded myself with every movement, trying to push the notification bubble from my work messaging app from my mind. It was moments like these that left me wishing my internet searches on becoming a yoga instructor were more than idle curiosity and an actual career plan I could pursue.
When I finished stretching, I found everyone sitting at the dining room table, a stack of games and junk food surrounding them.
“I thought we were watching a movie.” I stifled a yawn as I sat at the table, trying to join in the fun but also wishing I could go to bed without being the resident party pooper.
“We are, but that’s not until later. It’s only 9:30.” Tory gave me a smile and wink before gesturing to the games in front of her, a mix of decades-old board games and card games. “What should we play?”
We settled on a card game, and I finally felt the knot in my stomach unwind as we teased and trash-talked our way through the familiar games. By the time we finished and Tory was ready to start the movie, I decided it was late enough that no one could fault me for bowing out.
“Are you sure?” Tory asked as the guys went downstairs to get the movie setup. “It’ll be fun. Promise!”
“I believe you, but I’m beat.” I stretched, my back popping as I arched into the movement, my body clearly agreeing with my need for rest.
Tory pleaded with me a little longer before finally giving in.
“Fine, but you’re watching the movie tomorrow night. I brought superhero movies, and you know I didn’t bring those for myself.” She shook a finger at me, emphasizing her point.
“We both know you didn’t bring superhero movies for me,” I said with a laugh. “Trent would probably hitchhike home if we didn’t watch at least one superhero movie during this trip.”
“True.” She acquiesced, giving me a hug and disappearing downstairs with the guys, leaving me alone to get ready for bed.
I stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, soaking in the quiet before heading to my bedroom. I hated being the first one to call it a night. And yet, I was fully aware this was my identity.I was the stable person who went to bed at a reasonable hour. Why should I change that now?
I washed my face, surprised as always at how different I looked without my makeup. Mom had gone through a makeup artist phase, teaching me how to contour and use a variety of products. I hadn’t really gotten into it until I dated Lyle—he valued having a woman who always looked her best. What had once been a fun, occasional hobby had transformed into my armor and identity. Now I refused to be seen without my perfectly applied eyeliner and foundation, even when staying at a cabin in the woods.
I brushed my hair out, noting that it was time for a hair appointment. When my hair got long, it struggled to hold curl, becoming flat and straight, not the flattering waves I’d learned to style each morning. Grateful no one could see me in my undone appearance, I walked out of the bathroom and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water.
I turned the corner from the hallway into the kitchen and ran into something warm and solid that made an “oof” sound when I collided with it. I stumbled back, shocked to find I wasn’t alone in the dimness of the cabin.
Grey’s hands gripped my arms, steadying me as his ever-present grin filled his face. “Careful! Don’t want any injuries, especially this early in the trip.”
Warmth traveled up my arms at the contact, and I stepped away. Hopefully the dim lighting hid the blush suffusing my cheeks.
“Sorry. I thought I was alone upstairs. I wanted to grab a drink of water before bed.” I babbled, my hand reaching up to run self-consciously through my hair. I realized the gesture drew attention to my undone appearance and forced my hand back down to my side. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“Good news, the sink works great and the water’s refreshing. I just checked.” Grey walked over to a nearby cupboard, pulling out a blue plastic cup and offering it to me.
I accepted the cup with a thank you, not sure what to do next with Grey blocking the sink.
Grey watched me for a moment, his head tilted to the side. “You know, I hadn’t realized your hair was straight. You’ve had it pulled up most of the trip. I like it this way.”
My hand shot up to my hair, and I wished I hadn’t completed my bedtime routine. He’d caught glimpses of me the night before in the dark of the room we shared, but this felt different, more exposed. I turned away, hoping he didn’t notice how much of a mess I looked without my makeup. “I know it’s a disaster. That’s why I try to keep it styled.”
Grey studied me, his lips pursed. “It doesn’t look like a mess. It looks nice.”
“That’s because it’s dark. Trust me, if you saw it—”
