𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 ✓

EIGHTEEN

-

My forehead is covered in sweat when I jolt up, wide awake. Heavily panting, I sit in bed, face buried in my hands, trying to forget my nightmare. Where last night, I dreamt of Sebastian kissing me, I saw my mother being killed in a car crash. I think I even screamed. I blow out air through my pursed lips slowly to get my heart to slow down again. I hadn't had a nightmare that bad in years. 

"Emmons?"

My entire body tenses up at the sound of his voice. He sounds sluggish like he just woke up, but equally concerned. I sniff into the darkness. It's so dark in here that I cannot see him.

"You okay?"

"Obviously," I sarcastically reply and let myself fall back onto the mattress with my eyes pressed shut. God, he will think I'm such a sissy, crying and screaming all day and night. Usually, I don't do that. Usually.

"You're driving me crazy."

His husky whisper leads tingles over my skin, and I hear his footsteps coming closer to my bed. He pats the mattress to test if he can sit, and eventually, he lays next to me. I hear his steady breathing in my left ear. Instantly, my entire body freezes, my breath becomes shallow. I open my eyes but still cannot see anything. It's so dark in here. 

"Nightmare," I whisper into the void. He huffs.

"I figured."

"Mhm," I hum, crossing my arms in front of my chest while I lay there, eyes staring into the darkness, my pulse beating in my throat. What am I supposed to do now? He's laying next to me, for God's sake. 

Eventually, it is not me to do something. He shifts, and I almost expect him to leave again, but I feel one hand by my shoulders.

"Come here," he mutters, and I don't hesitate. I instantly lift my torso up a little. He threads his arm through the gap between my shoulders and the pillow, and before I realize it, he pulls me closer to him. Instinctively, I place one hand on his buff chest.

"But don't try to kiss me again," he warns me in a teasing voice, and I scoff. Good thing he cannot see how hard I'm blushing right now.

"Promise," I reply and snuggle up closer. He uses his free hand to wrap my thin blanket around the two of us. He lets out a long sigh as he settles his head into the pillow comfortably, and then, silence takes over the dark room. I hear his heartbeat, feel his warmth, and again, it's like we never argued in our lives. 

--

When my eyelids flutter open again, I realize that he truly stayed all night. I shift a little, but his calm breathing and comfortable silence tell me he's still sleeping. I decide not to wake him up. I like this too much.

His arm holds me close to him, my leg is angled over his. our bodies are entwined like they'd never been before, and I catch myself liking it. Really liking it.

Outside, the sun has already risen, but I don't know what time it is. I guess it's about nine a.m, but I would have to move in order to see the clock on the nightstand. Which I won't do. 

He's comfortable to lay on, his chest and abdomen buff yet soft. The fabric of his shirt has glided up over night, the blanket is only over our legs by now. I can see the lower part of his stomach, the last pair of abs that gain and lose definition with every breath he takes. I see a faint V-line leading down to the hem of his boxers that he wore to sleep. Then, the blanket blocks my sight.

I lick my lips and adjust my position slightly, careful not to wake him up. I let my gaze drift over the side of the room that I can see: the dresser, a quite ugly picture hanging above it, my suitcase laying on the ground, half-open, a bra sticking out. Suddenly, I feel movement, but it's just Sebastian shifting, sighing comfortably so that his breath hits the back of my head. His fingers that rest on my shoulder begin to draw circles on the naked skin there. I only wore a t-shirt that night, the sleeves must've ridden up my arm. A realization hits me.

I'm only wearing a tee. 

Now, I become very aware of the fact that my panties don't cover much, the fact that my bare knees are touching his right now, and suddenly, every inch of my skin that touches him burns with hot tingles. God, this is too much for me. 

His breath becomes deeper, his chest rises up more, his free hand drifts to my hair, playing with it. I begin to close my eyes and enjoy this little gesture he subconsciously started, but all of the sudden, I get shoved off of him like it was a surprise for him to find me so close to him. Close, funny. You were basically molten together.

"Morning to you too, dickhead," I mutter, slightly offended by his reaction. He yawns, his back arches as he stretches. Even in the morning, he looks good.

I can finally see his face. He looks crumpled, his eyes weary and eyelids hanging low, but holy mother of God, he looks good. No, not good. Perfect. 

"This bed is so much better than that shitty couch," he says, and I'm not even sure he directed it at me. I shrug while he sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed.

"Has me hoping you have nightmares every night," he adds, and he sounds so serious I can only hope he's joking. Quickly, I pull the blanket toward me and wrap myself in it like a burrito while avoiding looking at him. He doesn't need to know that I'm not wearing pants right now...

"Funny," I retort sarcastically, "Makes you seem like a nice person."

"Hey, who was comforting you last night? Twice?"

He's got a point, as mean as he once again is toward me. I scoff and let my gaze lazily follow his movements as he gets up, his back facing me. I see his defined back muscles through the thin grey shirt he's wearing. Then, he abruptly sits down again, crouched over, elbows to knees. I arch a brow.

"Maybe, you should go to the bathroom," he suggests harshly without looking over at me. I begin to get up when the realization over why he asked me to do that hits me. I feel my cheeks heat up as I walk to the door, the blanket still wrapped around me, avoiding looking back at him. Today will be utter fun.