Page 34 of Faker
SHORT NAPS AREall I manage until the sky outside my window turns indigo, indicating the dead of evening. Tate still sits by my bedside, like a patient guardian. He alternates between reading something on his phone and skimming through a stack of magazines he found near the nurses’ station.
Through a handful of blinks, I study him. His eyes are heavy with fatigue. Then they cut to me.
“No reading over my shoulder. You’re not supposed to tax your brain. Rest like a good patient, okay?” A yawn follows his gentle warning.
“You’re tired.”
“A little, but I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse places before, believe it or not.”
When I open my mouth, I expect to hear myself ask what places are less comfortable than a shoddy plastic chair, but then I hear myself say, “That chair is no good to spend the night in. Stay up here with me.”
Dread fills me when I realize how desperate I sound, but it quickly dissipates. His eyes don’t widen in surprise like I thought they would. Instead, a relieved smile appears. “Okay.”
It brings warmth to my chest, setting me at ease. It’s a welcome counter to the soreness lingering in my body. I slide to one edge of the hospital bed and shift to my side. He says nothing while kicking off his shoes and climbing next to me. With his back flatover the covers, I cuddle into the crook of his shoulder and chest. It’s the same cozy position we practiced in the ER waiting room, only better because now we’re lying down. For a moment, I wonder what plans he had for today and if he had to cancel anything to look after me.
“Don’t worry. I won’t try anything,” he teases in a whisper.
“Even if you did, it wouldn’t make a difference.” I yawn. This hospital bed must have been made for a giant, because even though it’s a tight fit, it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, I feel a million times more comfortable snuggled next to him than I did while lying in it alone.
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m difficult to excite in that way.”
“You mean...” He drifts off.
“I’ll give you a hint: I’m not often able to reach the top of the mountain.” I yawn again. “We’ll see how long it takes you to figure it out.”
A minute passes. “Does it start with an ‘O’?” he asks.
I nod.
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s fine.”
“So you’ve never had an orgasm?” he says after several seconds of silence.
“No, I have. Just not with most people I’ve been with. I fake them usually. I can give myself one just fine.”
He nuzzles the top of my head and takes a long whiff of my hair. The knotted muscles in my shoulders relax. I can’t remember the last time I was this comfortable, this content against a male body.
“You are a fascinating being, Emmie.”
I let out a tired moan. With each blink, my eyelids stay closedlonger and longer. Feeling Tate’s solid body against mine is an instant relaxer. I’m not far from sleep. “Thank you for taking care of me today. You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to. Thank you for letting me.”
My ear presses against the side of his chest, the slow rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me to sleep.
•••
THERE’S ONLY PITCHblack when I open my eyes. It’s a handful of moments before my vision adjusts and I spot the crack of yellow light between the door and the wall. The nurse must have shut it while we slept. She also must not have minded the way we disregarded the visiting hour policy, because Tate is still cuddled up next to me. I zero in on his faint wheeze above my head. I tilt up for a look. When I move my shoulder slightly, he stirs. His eyes open, and even in the darkness, their soothing color is visible.
“Hey there,” he whispers in a raspy voice. My ears tingle, giddy at the sound. I wonder if this is what he sounds like first thing in the morning.
“Hi,” I whisper back. “Are you comfortable? Do you need me to move?”
He closes his eyes again and gives me a sleepy smile. He shakes his head. “Nope. This is perfect.”
