Page 174 of Treacherous
Willow furrows her eyebrows. “How do you know that?”
I swallow. “I heard you and Jaz talking about it once,”
She nods, accepting my answer. What I don’t tell her is, I googled everything about periods in high school after she couldn’t attend classes or training fordays.It was after this I realised how terrible menstruating sounded.
I also don’t tell Willow that I’m the person who made her and Jaz period care packages every month. Delivering it to Willow’s house, only to claim it was from Jaz or my mum.
It’s the reason I have Willow’s favourite chocolate, snacks, and preferred tampon brands seared into my brain.
“Did you get the chocolate?”
I laugh. “Yes.”
I reach down the side of the bed, pulling out a bar of Hershey’s and Reece’s peanut butter cups. “Which one?”
Willow snatches the peanut butter cups from my hand, ripping it open and popping one into her mouth. “Hmm. This is so good,” she moans.
She finishes the pack off, resuming her position under the covers. Her eyes bore into mine as if she were looking into my soul. It’s piercing, striking my heart in more ways than one.
Willow has me by the fucking balls, and I don’t even care. Her hand reaches out to mine, intertwining our fingers. I inhale sharply. The contact is intimate and nothing like the other times we’ve been together.
“Did you know they were my favourites?” she asks, her head nodding to the empty pack of chocolate.
I decided not to lie. “Yes.”
Willow’s bottom lip quivers slightly. I move closer to her, wanting to do something–anything to ease the pain. “Will a massage help your cramps?”
Willow rears back in surprise or possibly disbelief. “You–” She smiles, shaking her head. “You would do that for me?”
I would do anything for you.
The words are pounding against my skull, begging to be screamed aloud or whispered into Willow’s ear. But I don’t say them.
Instead, I extend my hands to Willow’s waist and gently turn her so her back is against my torso.
“Where’s the pain, Sweetheart?” I ask, my fingers lingering on her stomach.
She sucks in a breath but wraps her fingers around my wrist and drags it to her lower stomach. I begin tracing my fingers in a small circle, using light pressure as I don’t want to make anything worse.
“You can press harder, Jayden. I’m not going to break,” Willow whispers.
I pull myself closer to her, feeling our bodies flush against each other. Listening to Willow’s wants, I continue the massage with more pressure. Short moans fall from Willow’s full, pink lips–lips that Ireallywant to kiss.
I drag my nose up her neck, inhaling the lavender scent that belongs to Willow. I could drown myself in her and I wouldn’t be mad, in fact, I’d probably thank her for allowing me to be close to her.
Ten minutes later, I stop massaging Willow but leave my hands attached to her skin. I wish I could touch her like this every day.
It’s these small moments that have me wondering: did I waste years avoiding the intense emotions Willow sparked inside mebecause I was scared? Scared to offer my love to someone who has the chance to ruin me forever.
Contentment rumbles through my body as I run my hand over Willow’s messy curls. She sighs, leaning back into me without a care in the world. Willow never exposes herself, not wanting anyone to see her vulnerabilities or hidden scars.
But right now, the two of us are at peace. There is no need to talk, the silence is enough. I watch as Willow’s breathing evens out and her eyes flick shut.
She doesn’t try to leave my arms. It’s the opposite, Willow melts into my hold and I cling to her, wanting to savour this for as long as I can.
I think I’ve been tethered to Willow Rogers for years, whether I acknowledged it or not. I used to curse her for consuming my mind—no, my heart. Now, I realise it’s a fuckingprivilegeto be allowed to love her.
I can only hope she feels the same about me.
