Page 22 of Fragile Touch (Fragile 1)
“This is miserable,” she grunted to the cats, who had followed her to the bathroom and were lying in the doorway. They looked at her sleepily, but with that intensity that meant they wanted something.
Suddenly she realized that, in her foggy mind, she had totally forgotten to feed them all day. It didn’t register because, when she woke, there was food in their dishes, and she realized that Cayden had fed the cats sometime last night when he was over.
I didn’t hear him feed them. She tried her best to recall all the sounds she could, but no cat food noises were brought to mind. Really, all she could remember from the whole evening and night involved Cayden.
Let me know in the morning how you’re feeling.
She couldn’t help but feel guilty. Sliding down so her face was almost entirely submerged, she listened to the water hitting the sides of the tub and watched the drops slowly run down her exposed knees.
He wanted me to call this morning. Last time she looked at the clock, it was 4 pm, and that must have been nearly an hour ago.
A sigh louder than she expected echoed against the tiles. She heard the cats stalking away, upset she wasn’t paying them the attention they thought they deserved. I’ve been busy, she tried to convince herself. I haven’t done the whole hangover thing in years, and I’m busy trying to take care of myself so I don’t get really sick again. She didn’t want to think about having another flare-up alongside this worn-out feeling.
Her phone was on the edge of the toilet seat; stretching forward, she grabbed it without sitting up. She was emotionally exhausted from yesterday’s realistic flashbacks of her time with Amelia, not to mention her unsuccessful efforts to not harbor feelings for Cayden. First it was his cleaning her yard, and last night he happened to show up just in time to carry her drunken self to bed and even pour her ice water.
She pulled up the text she’d sent last night before and stared at it.
I’m awake. I’m lonely. Can you vonevrt?
“What the heck is that?” she muttered, fixated on the mystery word. It took her a minute before she figured it was probably a bad typo, meant to say, “come over.”
She rubbed her forehead with one hand. That sounds so pitiful. “I’m awake, I’m lonely,” she mocked herself in a baby voice and rolled her eyes. “So stupid. That’s exactly what got you into trouble last time, and the time before that, Lillian. Don’t you ever learn from your mistakes?”
Cayden hadn’t responded to that message. Obviously, he got it and just came straight over without asking questions. Maybe he really had thought it was a drunken booty call. Why else would he have made that joke?
She stopped when the dreaded question came into her mind, and slapped a hand over her mouth.
What if I wanted it to be a booty call and then I was too sober when I woke up?
She shook her head. That’s impossible. He probably came over right after I sent that message. It’s not like he came a few hours after he got it. There couldn’t have been that much time for the alcohol to wear off.
Groaning loudly, she slid down farther so her face dipped under the warm water. Something about holding her breath and feeling her hair drift around her head calmed her down and cleared her thoughts.
She came back up quickly. “I don’t want to be stuck inside my head so much!” she cried, the sound of her voice ringing inside her skull. “I want to have fun and not be so scared of it!”
So, don’t be. That wasn’t Amelia’s voice—it was hers.
“More bubbles,” she grumbled, turning on the water and dumping half a capful of liquid into the flow. Lavender-scented bubbles popped up, joining and separating into millions that filled the tub in no time. It was her second bath today, but the first had only been water. She needed to feel clean while she was introspective...and fill her nose with a smell other than that damn musk that seemed to coat everything whenever Cayden showed up.
When the bubbles reached her chin, she turned the faucet off with her foot and shifted positions. Her skin prickled from the room’s chilly air when her leg came out of the water for a moment, and chills ran up her back all the way to the nape of her neck. A deep, dark part of her wondered what would happen if she had another drink—just a little one—and Cayden came over again.
Why so much fear? Why not give it a go?
She glanced at the phone again, its screen black, and let herself imagine for a few moments. That was way too fast, definitely, but what was the harm in seeing him again?
“I’m not drunk,” she said out loud, firmly, like she was verbally agreeing to something. “I’m totally sober and I’m doing this because I want to.”
Last night’s text and a new blank message illuminated her face, glaring in her eyes, daring her to do something. Her heart pounded; she felt ridiculous, but was unsure if it was because she was so nervous to send a text or because she felt like a child with a silly crush.
I’m a grown woman and I can do this.
Suddenly her mind went blank. She had no idea what to say, so she typed something half-mindedly and pressed send before she lost her nerve.
You around?
Two simple words that scared the living daylights out of her. Of all the things you could have said, you asked if he was around? What would she do when—if, she reminded herself not to get carried away, if—he replied? Invite him over? That message definitely implied that she wanted him to come over. Of course she wanted him to come over. But then what would happen?
She reminded herself to calm down and not get so caught up in her head. Analyzing is not always a good thing, Lillian. The cooling water sent another batch of shivers throughout her body. This was equally exciting and intimidating, and she couldn’t stop a little smile from touching her lips.
