Masquerade

22

Nick had been the perfect mix of gentleman and rogue, having kissed me thoroughly but taking things no further. As I look down at his sleeping face, a smile creeps across mine. Though yesterday had been crap, its end had been pretty damned perfect. Though I'm not sure where we'll go from where it ended, I don't regret a moment of it.

Nick is sprawled out on my couch now, one foot on the floor, one arm tucked behind his head. His hair has fallen completely away from his face and for the first time I can see all of it at once. Even in his sleep there is a tenderness to it.

I sip my coffee, feeling no shame in ogling him while he sleeps. When he eventually begins to stir, I move to the windows to watch the sunrise instead. I sense it when he sits up, and though I want to look over my shoulder at him I continue to look out the window. When his bare feet pad across the room and he lays his hand tenderly between my shoulders, I smile.

"Good morning," I say softly, then sip my drink.

"It certainly is."

I turn my head to look up at him and he smiles at me. My answering smile is fleeting; there have been things on my mind this morning and they fight for dominance of my thoughts even now.

The peace I'd found in watching him sleep had occupied my mind for a time, but now that I no longer have that distraction my imaginings have once more been set free to amble along a seemingly set path. It's funny how a night's worth of peaceful sleep can help bring to light things that had been hidden, reveal possible secrets hiding in plain sight.

"Want some coffee?" I ask, not yet ready to divulge my thoughts openly.

"That sounds great."

His voice is still husky from sleep and though the sound of it might give me pause on a different day, on this one it barely registers. But I do manage to give him another small smile before I move away from the warmth of his hand and to the kitchen.

I fix him a drink, then bring mine and his both back to the couch. I sit and wait for him to join me, pulling my legs up onto my cushion and crossing them. I hand him his cup when he takes the spot beside me, then I sip my coffee in silence as I stare out the window. Neither of us speak for a long time. It is Nick who finally breaks the hush that's fallen between us.

"You're awfully quiet this morning."

I nod my head but don't immediately look at him or answer. I finally let out a soft breath, my thoughts finally falling into some semblance of order. I turn to meet his pensive gaze.

"I've been thinking, and I honestly don't know what to believe about something. I feel like maybe I'm being paranoid. Or losing my mind."

He lowers his mug to the table then turns to look at me, a light frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Maybe I can help. What's on your mind?"

"It's about Spencer."

He nods and though he doesn't say anything, the shadow that passes through his eyes tells me how he feels about the subject I'm bringing up. There's no hiding the fact that he doesn't like it.

"Maybe I'm over thinking things," I continue, "but it really hit me this morning how weird he's been acting. He's changed, and I don't know if that's a good thing. Something about it is really beginning to feel ..."

I can't quite put my feeling into words and so I shake my head. I look back out the window at the growing dawn. I laugh bitterly at the new person my ex has become, wondering why I feel the way I do. He's acting the way I'd always hoped he would, but I'm not happy about it. Instead, in the pale light of a new day, it's begun to make me anxious instead.