Page 42 of Black
CHAPTER 8
Nightmares
Gabriel
It was her crying that woke me up hours later – small sniffing sounds and muttering that made no sense.
It wasn’t violent, so I didn’t wake her up but tugged her into my arms and kissed her on the top of her head, hoping that my care for her would somehow reach her in her dreams.
When morning came she stirred and stretched and turned into me so that her face was against my collarbone. I registered it but was still too sleepy to move.
“Good morning,” I mumbled and tried to open my eyes.
I got a muffled response and then we kind of drifted off to sleep a little. It wasn’t on purpose that I farted; I was just relaxed and one, I’m a guy and two, I’ve been in the military for nine years. You get pretty desensitized to that sort of thing. It wasn’t a small fart either, and for a moment I stiffened, waiting for her to get upset like Heidi, my last girlfriend, would have been. But to my surprise Cia just laughed.
“I’m sorry.” I said. “What’s so funny?”
Her grin was infectious, and her puffy eyes and morning hair made her look cute in an approachable way. Who knew that inside that black armor she wore the first time I met her, there was this sweet innocent soul?
I propped myself up on my elbow.
“Hey, you know what?” I said.
“What?” She mirrored me and propped herself up to.
“I like you a lot better like this.”
“Like what?”
“You know, without all the piercings and the dark clothes.”
“Yes, ugly morning face and stinky breath is much more me,” she joked.
“No, I’m serious.” I assured her.
“Why?”
“Because you’re more relaxed and fun. What do you say that when you get to be a teenager and we can maybe leave here, I’ll take you shopping in the nearest town? I would hate for you to have to wear the black clothes when we leave here.”
She bit her lip and knitted her brows. “I don’t know.”
“If you ever want a boyfriend, you should lose the Goth look.”
“What makes you think I want a boyfriend and how do you even know I don’t have one already?”
I arched a brow. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No,” she said. “Nor do I want one.”
“Why not?”
“Because you just confirmed that guys only care about looks… and the ones I’m attracted to would never be interested in me anyway.”
I could have said she was wrong, but I was guilty as charged. I wouldn’t be interested in her either, especially not in her hideous Goth outfit.
“I sometimes wonder,” she said; “if our eyes saw souls instead of bodies, how different our ideal of beauty would be.”
“True… It would have saved me a few heartbreaks,” I said dryly.
