Page 23 of Truth Be Told
Before I can sneak back out the door, another moan comes from the direction of the bed. I snap my head around. Now the body is moving, slightly twisting under the covers.
I turn off my light and approach the bed, setting my phone down on the nightstand next to the bed. From here, I can see dark hair resting against a pillow. I move to the other side, and that’s when I see that it’s definitely Cohen.
He appears to be in a deep sleep, but his face is pained, his brows knitted together as though he’s in some kind of deep thought. His legs randomly twitch every few seconds. It’s pretty obvious that he’s having a nightmare.
I place a hand on his shoulder and give him a gentle shake. “Cohen.”
Nothing but another moan. Then more struggling. Despite how cold it still is in here, beads of sweat appear on his forehead.
“Cohen. Wake up.” I shake him a little harder.
Suddenly, my shakes produce the desired result. He shoots up, panting and drenched in sweat. We connect for a moment, but his eyes are glassy and I can see that he’s only half there. I freeze, moving my hands away. He grabs me by my shoulders and throws me down on the bed. He clutches me a little too hard, pinning me down against the mattress.
I scream. I instinctively reach down to my ankle, grasping for a blade that isn’t there.
The sound of my scream seems to snap him back to reality. I watch as his breathing continues to pulse, his bare chest expanding in and out. He looks me over. Until just now, when I reached for my weapon and found it to be missing, I didn’t realize that I’d forgotten to put on the pair of sweatpants he gave me, not to mention my socks and Uggs, which would have enabled me to hide it.
I look down at my body. I’m wearing nothing more than the tee shirt that he gave me, which doesn’t provide much coverage for anything down below.
He releases me. “Stella?” he says, moving back. He looks confused and exhausted, both mentally and physically. He’s wearing nothing but a loose pair of sweat pants, and standing in front of me now, his fit, sweaty body heaves up and down as he tries to catch his breath. Then he looks down at those sweatpants, as though he’s examining them, and runs his palms over the fabric.
He’s even more fit than I thought he’d be. His entire body is toned, and as his ribs expand and contract the muscles of his six pack ripple in the light breaking through the window.
“What are you doing in here?” he asks, still in the process of catching his breath. “The room is almost pitch black. I had no idea who you were. I could have–”
I shake my head, still in shock about what just happened. “What?”
He almost yells, “I’m trying to say I could have seriously hurt you.”
I bite my lower lip. “I heard something when I was in bed. It woke me up, and I thought it was coming from your room. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I look up at him, but he’s waiting for me to continue.
“It turns out I was right. You were… moaning and making noise and tossing around. And,” I lift my arm, pointing to the window, “your window was wide open. It was freezing in here. I’m surprised you’re not showing symptoms of hypothermia or something.”
He looks down, moving his feet away from a small amount of snow. He nods. “Yeah. I keep that window open on purpose.”
I stare at him, confused.
He sighs. “Although usually when I leave it open it’s not snowing out. I guess that wasn’t such a good idea.” He gets a hand towel from his bathroom and wipes the melting snow off the floor and windowsill.
“Can I ask why?”
“Why what?” He’s not looking at me. He must still be a little thrown by everything.
“Why you leave the window open in the middle of winter.”
He tosses the wet towel in the direction of a laundry basket. It lands on the side of the basket and stays there, barely hanging on.
“It keeps me cool.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Cool or cold?”
Cohen just looks at me.
“I mean, it’s about forty degrees in here.” Speaking of, I look around for something to keep me warm. The only thing I find is the comforter from Cohen’s bed. It’s under me, so I rise and pull it around my shoulders, then sit back down.
“Yeah, well. When you toss and turn all night it can feel pretty good.”
