Inversion [Camp NaNoWriMo July 2021]

day 20

d a y   2 0

Awkward.

That's the only word to describe it.

Neither of us seems to know what to say or where to look.

I can't shake the memory of that kiss from my head. The way Cian lowered his head so slowly, giving me time to change my mind even after I had repeated that "yes" again and again until his lips finally met mine, a soft pressure.

That first kiss had been chaste, lasting only a few seconds, just lips, no teeth, before he pulled back. And then it was my turn to lean forward.

Cian didn't know what he was doing. That much was clear—had been clear for a long time. Not that it mattered. And I was only slightly more experienced, if you can call drunk kisses, at the few parties I had let my friends drag me to over the years, experience. But we learned together, how to move our lips against each other's, how to breathe through our noses as we angled our heads, how a sweep of a tongue could open the other's lips.

Cian's hands had stayed where they were, one against my face, the other on my waist, his touch feather light. But I can still feel them, like phantom touches, even hours later.

I don't know how long we'd stood there and kissed. Until a few drunk partygoers had passed us on the street—undoubtedly in search of food, from their loud argument about which diner had the best fries—and called for us to get a room. We'd yanked apart at that and returned to the apartment in awkward silence.

And even though that awkwardness still lingered, we didn't seek the privacy of our rooms. We'd sat down on the couch, on opposite ends, and waited in silence. Waited, it seemed, for the other to speak.

Finally, Cian shifts, the couch groaning with the movement. I watch him from the corner of my eye. "You should get some sleep."

Any lingering embarrassment in me is swept away by a wave of crushing dread, and I try not to cringe. Sleep hadn't come easily the past few nights, and I doubt it'll be any better tonight. The nightmares have come back with a vengeance, worse than before. And I don't wake up to my own screaming anymore. Just tears and silence. Infinitely worse.

The nightmares always end in silence now.

I don't want to go to that silence just yet. It's partly why I've forced myself to sit here, endure the awkwardness. To push back that silence, if only for a while longer.

"Hey." Cian notices my reaction. He moves down the couch and grazes a hand against my arm. "What's wrong?"

I consider not answering. Or lying. But I know he'll just see through it. Keep pushing until I tell him the truth.

My shoulders slump, and I keep my eyes on my hands, clasped in my lap. "The nightmares," I answer simply. "They've been ... worse. Harder to come back from." I spent hours staring up at the dark ceiling after they woke me up, my mind as silent as the ringing echoes of the crash. As silent as Jeremy had been.

Cian hadn't known.

I'd done my best to keep it from him, and his stunned expression confirms it now. I watch as the shock gives way to realization and something like despair.

"I didn't hear you." A question, more than a statement.

I shrugged, pursing my lips. "I didn't want you to."

A hand on my chin, tilting my face towards his. "You can talk to me." And when I don't respond, "Tell me what I can do to help."

I try to shake my head, but he's still gripping my chin. "You can't," I whisper, and his expression gutters. "I don't know what to do."