Page 5 of Voracious

I throw one of Base’s protein bars at them, and none threaten to kill me.

Definitely asleep.

The zipper of the tent slowly moves up, and her head appears. Her hair is mostly pulled back with a clip. Her face, from what I can see in the moonlight, is make-up free, but there’s a slight sheen on her lips where she’s put on lip balm before coming here.

In ahoodieand baggy sweats to keep her warm in this frigid weather, she climbs into the tent, zips it back up at the speed of a snail then crawls over to me as quietly as she can.

It’s kind of pathetic how my heart skips a beat over her willingly wanting to spend time with me. The excitement I feel that she’s sneaking away from her friends, sneaking around mine and sliding in beside me in my sleeping bag is unmatched by any thrill I’ve ever had.

That’s just it with Stacey. She could be singing a musical horrendously off-key with food all over her face, and I’d still see her as my own fucking angel.

“Hi,” she breathes as I turn on my side to face her, mirroring her position. “This is risky.”

I look over her shoulder at my friends then look down at her, pulling my sleeping bag up to hide her from them. I half-smile and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Risky is fun.”

“They won’t wake up and tellLuciellaI’m here?” Her voice is so quiet, so sweet and soft.

“Not if they want to live, no. It’s just Base and his big mouth though. He’s a fucking gossip.”

We whisper as low as possible, talking about anything and everything – what she’s been up to this week, the classes she’s been teaching, the sketches I sent her one night when I was bored. After she saw them, she asked if I’d design her a tattoo.

Stacey is already a work of art. The idea of having my drawings on her skin makes mine tingle. I’m no pro, but my therapist has started encouraging me to doodle often, since it helps when I’m overwhelmed or need to express myself in a way I struggle with.

She wraps her arms around my neck, hiking her leg up to rest on top of my hip. “I can’t fall asleep here,” she tells me. “But I want to cuddle for a bit.”

I tighten my hold on her waist, bringing her knee up higher to my ribs. “Then cuddle me, Freckles. It’s been brutal not being able to do this with you.”

“I love how romantic you are,” she says. “I know you keep saying you’re not, but you really are. You’re just as needy as me.”

I squeeze her ass. “I’m not romantic.” Needy? Yeah, I’m fucking needy when it comes to her.

She hums quietly. “Is that why you researched all the side effects to my pill and restocked yourminifridgewith things to make me feel better? Or when you bought me a hot-water bottle the morning after our first time, because I was sore?”

“The side effects are a little intense. I was being nice.” I raise my shoulder. “I need to take care of you somehow after how well you take it.”

She slaps my arm, and we both silently chuckle.

Most of the time, we just do this whenever we’re together. Cuddle and talk.

Stacey being acuddlerhas been unexpected. Without a doubt, this is one of myfavouritethings about her – whenever we sleep, she always has to touch me.

Her head is always on my chest, and whenever I wake and we’re tangled as one, I can’t seem to move. I don’t want to move. It’s moments like those – this – when I try to figure out if my dad ever felt this way about my mum, and at what point it all turned sour. At what point did he decide it wasn’t enough and start using manipulation and coercion to keep her for as long as he did?

He still does. In a way. Her life, twenty years later, still revolves around my dad like fragile glass. She loves him – a part of her can never not love him. They remain in this toxic bubble, where she lights up around him, and he conceals every vicious urge to keep her happy.

I know that takes a lot for him, and sometimes, when Mum needs space from dealing with his bad days, my dad ends up in solitary confinement for being an enraged psycho.

One thing I will say, and fuck if my parents ever found out, but I never want them back together. They’re truly toxic. Plain and simple. She’s married, and I honestly think I’d go withEwanif they split up.

Personally, I thinkEwandeserves better. He should find someone who can love him the way he loves her.

I’m the worst son ever for thinking that.

Stacey brings me out of my head fuck by cupping my cheek. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. She doesn’t need to know where my thoughts go sometimes. “Nothing. I really do miss you.”

Base is definitely asleep. Because he’d be snorting and trying not to laugh if he heard me.

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