Page 79 of Withered

“He is,” I say with a smile.

“He isn’t always around, is he?” Jake asks.

“He is mostly at the hospital,” I tell him with a tight smile.

Jake nods. “I should go. Uh, thanks for everything. Good night.”

“Jake, wait,” I blurt out.

“Yeah?”

“Could you…stay?” I ask him.

I am tired of people leaving me, and I want someone to stay right now. “Maybe just for a little while?”

His gaze locks with mine, and he nods, “Okay.”

“I am going to change into something comfortable; these jeans are too tight,” I say, and his gaze shifts to my leg. His stare remained there for a moment before traveling upward, staring at my chest and then back at my eyes.

He gulps, his Adam’s apple rising and falling. He clears his throat, then says, “Yeah, you should.”

He’s acting weird again. What is he even thinking?

I walk upstairs and into my closet. Quickly freshening up, I put on a black tank top and white satin shorts and enter my room, only to let out a shriek when I spot Jake. He turns around as soon as he hears me.

“What are you doing up here?” I’m stunned that he’s in my room. The first boy to ever step into my room.

As he scans my body, I regret wearing these satin shorts that are far too short. Instead, I should have gone for plaid trousers. I clear my throat to snap him out of his trance.

“I was curious about your room. I’d seen it through the window, but I wanted to see it in person,” he says this before returning to looking at my baby pictures.

My room is better than the average girls’ room, but it falls somewhere between nerdy and classy. The walls have been painted a baby blue color.

My queen-size bed is attached to the wall on the right side of the room. The bed is a traditional-style one with light blue and gray decor. Cushions are lined up on the headrest. The bedside table holds a white lamp and a picture of my parents and me.

A simple white desk with a lamp and other stuff on it, with a white fur chair. A bookshelf and my dressing table. In addition, I have two chandeliers that cast a soft yellow glow around the area.

Jake is standing on the edge of my bed, gazing at the baby pictures I have hanging near my bed.

“You are so fucking cute,” Jake says, pointing at a particular photo.

I lean forward and look at the picture of me sucking my thumb, saliva dripping from my mouth.

“Stop!” My cheeks burn, and I shove Jake a little too hard so that he lands on my bed with a thump.

As I start laughing, I don’t notice him sitting up. He kicks off his shoes, then catches my wrist, and drags me down with him in the blink of an eye.

Never in a million years did I imagine having a boy in my room or on my bed, let alone Jake Henderson. But here we are.

He’s on my bed, and I’m on top of him. My left wrist is in his right hand, holding me firmly, and his left hand is around my waist. My right hand is resting on his chest, and I can feel his heart racing.

Because my hair is all over his face, he lets go of my hand and tucks it behind my ear, never breaking eye contact. Even with the heat flaring my body, goosebumps erupt on my skin.

“Are you feeling cold?” Jake notices the small bumps on my skin.

“No,” I say.

“You’ve got goosebumps. You’re barely wearing anything; go and change again,” he kind of orders, and his stare only makes it worse for me.

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