Page 29 of For Him

I grimaced. “Yeah, that won’t work.” We both sat there in silence for a moment, and then I snapped my fingers. “I got it!”

“Okay?” He turned his head towards me.

“We build a pillow wall between us on your bed. That way it’s like we made two separate beds.” I grinned, and he closed his eyes for a moment.

“Alright,” he finally said, his long lashes fluttering back open. Slapping both hands on his knees, he stood, and I followed him into his bedroom. The light illuminated a room that I wasn’t entirely unsurprised by. Straight across from me was a large, king-sized bed with a dark caramel quilt spread over it. Elk decor pillows mixed in with sleeping pillows lined up against the antler-designed headboard.

Two matching nightstands on either side, with simple lamps sitting atop them, were clean and straight. Above the bed was the window, the blinds drawn closed. To the left was a closet, and set up against the wall directly next to me was a dark wooden dresser that pulled the entire room's decor together. On top of the dresser were more pictures and I wandered towards them, hoping to catch a glimpse of Weston in some of them.

Here they all were. He had pictures of him and an older gentleman, posed behind different animals they’d hunted. There were some of him and his father. Him and Cassidy, much younger, holding fish. Or covered in mud beside a four-wheeler. Even pictures of who I assumed was Weston on horseback at a rodeo roping something, or just on a ride.

All of the pictures were of him much younger, without the scar. Not a single one after. It was as if once whatever it was had happened, Weston had stopped existing. Stopped living.

I ran a hand across the top of the dresser and my eyes continued along the walls. On the far side was a door, opened to a nice bathroom. A separate shower on the left side with glass doors that were completely clear. To the right was the tub. Past that was a separate small room for just the toilet, and then the single vanity to the left. Same brown cabinets and beige countertops as the other bathroom.

Simple, effective, and just enough for one person.

I continued past the bathroom and slid my hand along a picture frame. A whole bunch of men and women in military uniforms. Just one picture and so many blurry faces with helmets and sunglasses, I couldn’t make any of them out. Then there were a few more beautiful oil paintings as I reached the bed.

The bed where Weston had already constructed a large pillow wall, at least three high and extending the majority of the length of the mattress. “How’s this?” He extended his arms and grinned in success.

I smiled. “That works.”

“Perfect. I know you don’t have any other clothes, so if you want, you could borrow a shirt and shorts of mine?” he offered.

“That would be nice. Thanks!” I responded.

He quietly made his way towards the dresser. Pulling open the second drawer, he snagged a T-shirt and shorts for me then shut the drawer. I quickly disappeared into the bathroom.

It wasn’t hard to figure out how to use the shower, and I let the hot water run down my naked body. Although I didn’t have my regular shampoo and conditioner, I let the water slip through my hair anyway and borrowed Weston’s. I was about to smell like a man as I emerged from the shower, feeling refreshed. He’d placed a clean towel on the rung beside the shower before I’d undressed, and I began to dry myself off.

This wasn’t the time to linger, so I dried as quickly as I could. Dressing was a slight problem, however. The shirt was more like a nightgown that went way past mid-thigh, but the shorts, on the other hand, no matter how tight I tried to tie them, they wouldn’t stay up.

Eventually I gave up and emerged from the bathroom with my damp hair dangling down to my lower back. Weston glanced up from the book he was reading on the bed, and his eyes widened for a moment before he quickly blinked the shock away.

“Uh. Your shorts are way too big,” I said, feeling my cheeks burn crimson-hot. Though I doubted that’s why he’d been shocked.

He chuckled and placed the book on the end table. He’d chosen the side closest to the door, farthest from the bathroom. Standing from the bed, he walked around the foot of it and stopped in front of me. Sliding the shorts from my grip, he turned to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer, grabbing a pair of boxers.

I shuffled towards the bed and pulled back the quilt and sheets, finding crisp white silk sheets waiting for me to slip into. Closing my eyes, I sunk down into what was probably the most comfortable bed I’d ever laid in. The cool sheets tickled my bare legs and felt like butter against my skin.

Tucking the sheets against my chin, I heard the door click and within a second the shower was running. A wave of exhaustion crashed over me, despite the fact I realized I’d just left my dirty clothes and bra in the bathroom. Normally, I would’ve been embarrassed, but I was too tired to care. Plus he had a sister, it wouldn’t be like he’d never seen a bra before.

Rolling onto my side, I faced the wall and kept my eyes closed.

The shower turned off fairly quickly, and within a few minutes, I heard the knob click again. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I looked up at the bathroom door as it cracked open, but Weston didn’t emerge.

“Soooo. Out of habit, I only grabbed some skivvies. The shorts I gave you were my smallest pair and they don’t fit me anymore,” he began, and I pulled my lips into my teeth, stifling a laugh.

“And?” I teased.

“And,” he emphasized, “Close your eyes so I can come grab a shirt and shorts without you seeing anything.”

“Embarrassed?” I taunted once more.

“I am proportionate in all areas of my body, darling. Embarrassed is not the word I would use,” he quickly replied, and my heart stopped for a moment.

I’d heard what he’d said, but I almost couldn’t understand what he meant. It seemed too unreal, too ‘more than friend’ like. No, he was just finding the line of where our friendship was and joking like that didn’t hurt.

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