The Wilde Expedition

37. emotions reek

Copyright © 2015. All Rights Reserved.

〮CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN 〮

It was seven in the morning when I woke up the next day, ruffled and groggy from the comfort of Gavin's mattress. I stretched my arms up over my head, and pulled my fingertips back to hook onto the edge of the mattress. My fingers skimmed what felt like a knitted blanket, but when I rolled around to look, I realized that Gavin had moved back to lay on the floor between the mattress and the front bench. He was still wearing his beanie, and next to him, his computer laid open and blank.

He was curled up into a gentle fetal position, his arms tangled between the folds of his blanket and the pillow that barely supported his head against the mattress ledge. One foot was propped up on one of the higher handles on the counter behind the bench, and his other was probably cramping.

With a gentle nudge to the shoulder, I roused him from his sleep. "Wha' time is it?" he muttered, raising up onto one of his elbows to check his phone. It was up on the counter, so I reached for it and passed it to him.

He nudged on his glasses and checked the time. Usually he was up by seven, sometimes even sooner. Honestly, he looked disoriented, but at the same time I couldn't help but fold my arms over my pillow and rest my chin there, watching him unfurl himself from his awkward position and remove his beanie from the top of his head. His hair was in a complete disarray, and it spiked up in all directions.

"How long've you been up?" he asked me, scooting himself up into a sitting position, his back against the countertop drawers and his face tilted towards me.

A sheepish smile formed on my lips, and I uttered, "Not long."

His eyes remained on me as I sighed, and watched the sunlight catch on the dust particles drifting through the air. The front windshield betrayed the largest amount of light, and illuminated the right side of Gavin's face. His eyes blinked slowly at me. "You look cute in the morning. Like a puppy," I told him. He laughed softly, the corners of his lips curved.

"Thanks, you look like... a resting wolf."

"Creative," I giggled, and he couldn't stop himself from laughing. Afterwards, he held his side where the bruise was.

"Sorry, I just woke up," he said, clearing his throat. "In case you didn't realize that."

I laughed and bit my lip before I knew what I was doing. My feet were crossed at the ankle, and I was practically squealing like a little school girl—What is wrong with me? There was something seriously wrong with my brain if it went off on it's own, making me giggle and go pink at the ears when Gavin so much as smiled at me then.

I was suddenly grateful for his lack of interest in the fields of romance, considering now I was making a complete fool of myself. My brain was going giddy over the smell of his mattress, where his aroma had seeped into the fabric and became embedded in the very being of the van—or perhaps, it was the other way around. Perhaps he had acquired the unique scent of the van, and that was what he carried with him everywhere.

I needed to get ahold of myself. I was starting to smell it and I wasn't sure if it was me or him or both of us—that spice in the air, the kind I smelled on Dad or Alister, or even Alister's dad and all the other men in Stonecroft who had a wife or a girlfriend. Good Lord, there was no escaping it.

"What're you thinking about?" Gavin asked, his fluid voice low to accommodate the delicate feel of the air around us. It felt like a Sunday morning, with clear skies and still air.

"Just... werewolf things," I confessed.

"Tell me about it."

"I'd rather not," I admitted with a slight cringe. "Are we going out for breakfast?"