Page 106 of You're so Bad

I shake his arm, and he flinches away from me before opening his eyes. They’re full of…fear, and it takes a second for recognition to filter in.

“Fuck,” he says soundly. “Are you okay?” He sits up and runs a hand over my face, my shoulders. “Did I hurt you? I shouldn’t have…”

“I’m fine. Areyoufine?”

He swears again, then slumps back onto the pillows. “Yeah. Shit. I’m sorry. I told you I’m not a good sleeper.”

“You bring any of your ganja?” I ask, using his word.

He smiles and shakes his head. “And risk the wrath of Constance? No thank you.”

“She’d probably ask to smoke some with you.” I touch his cheek, knowing he’s sensitive about this and anything I say might make him pull back. Retreat. “What are the dreams about?”

He’s quiet for a minute, and I don’t think he’s going to answer me.

“It’s my father. When he found me…”

“You dream of him hurting you,” I ask, my hand still on his face.

“Yes.” He swallows. “And I’m always a kid again. I can’t fight back.”

A sadness comes over me, so thick and choking I can barely breathe. “Leonard, I think Burke’s right. You should talk to someone about all of this. A therapist. You’ve been through so much…”

“I’ll think about it,” he says. “But maybe I should find somewhere else to bring my pillow. I don’t want to wake you up with my bullshit. Or hurt you. I couldn’t stand it if I hurt you.”

“I want you in here with me,” I insist. Then I lean in and kiss him softly.

He kisses me back like a man who’s desperate. We’re naked under the covers, so there’s nothing separating us when he rolls on top of me. This time it’s slower, softer, and full of a different kind of need.

After I clean up, I fall asleep in his arms, and he doesn’t wake up again. Neither do I. Until his alarm goes off.

He seems as displeased about it as I am, mostly because it’s way too early for anyone to willingly wake up on a Saturday.

“Oh, shit,” he says, after he gets it shut off. “I have somewhere to be. Burke’s proposing to Delia this morning, and he needs my help.”

“He’s doing what?” I ask, nearly falling out of bed. “Why didn’t you say anything about this last night?”

He grins at me, sitting up in bed. “I’m guessing he didn’t want me saying anything at all. We know how you girls talk.”

“Girls?” I say, raising an eyebrow. He reaches out and traces it, sending a flutter through me. One corner of his mouth lifts in an amused expression.

“Women. Queens. Goddesses. That better?”

“Moderately.”

He grabs his T-shirt from where it landed on the floor and pulls it on, which makes me want to pout. Then his underwear and shorts go on too.

“You’re going in your sweaty clothes?” I ask.

“What else would I wear? Grandpa Fruckface’s chinos?”

Laughter bursts out of me, then I remember he has no car and no shoes.

“Do you need me to drive you to your house? You have a shoe problem.”

“You’re telling me,” he says with an aggravatedI haven’t had any coffeesigh. “My feet don’t like me much. I’ve got some sandals at Mrs. Ruiz’s house.”

Sighing, I get up and pull on some clean clothes from my bureau. “I don’t mind playing uber, but we should take Reese with us.”

---