Own Me

Chapter Twenty-Three

"I want the deepest, darkest, sickest parts of you that you are afraid to share with anyone because I love you that much."

-Lady Gaga

♔ Chapter Twenty-Three ♔       

I rolled over sometime in the night, half asleep, not even really realising where I was or who I was with. I felt the tight arms around me slowly unfold and turn. Almost instinctively, I was up.

Something had crossed my mind, like it had every time I woke up in a stranger's bed. Just another customer, I thought. Better take the money and get the fuck out. That's how most of them liked it: waking up to find their dirty little secret had already gone.

My first reaction was to look around for the cash. Usually it was on a bedside table or in an envelope somewhere. Some of them kicked me out right after they were finished, or the wife comes home halfway through and I'd have to climb out a window or through a back door. I just felt unwelcome here, like I needed to get out.

Then I saw a bag of pills lying on the bed-side table, and turned to find the two weirdos from last night passed out beside me. The girl, Safi, was half-hanging from the edge of the bed, her upper body tossed dramatically over the sheets. I looked closer to me and found Mike wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets , sleeping, and I remembered. He looked so at peace lying there, so serene. So free. He grumbled in his sleep and turned over, reaching out into the empty space that I'd left beside him. When he felt nothing there he shot up out of his bed and searched around for me, afraid that I was gone.

"I'm here," I told him, standing by the window. He relaxed a little, lying back down with his eyes vaguely passing over me.

"Hey," he mumbled, scratching at his tousled caramel hair sleepily. It was raggedy and sticking up, and he was only making it worse. But he looked good, even after just waking up. I actually noticed him for the first time, without his features being distorted and twisted in all the psychedelia. He looked good. His skin glowed even in the damp lighting of the bedroom. His naked body, sprangled over his bed and tangled in with the quilt, still somehow managed to look toned and completely gorgeous. And more importantly, he looked way out of my league. Now that I was seeing him sober, the regrets from last night all came flooding in.

"I should probably be going now," I said meekly, not facing him.

"Really?" he yawned. "You can stay." He paused. "If you want. If you don't, it's okay. I mean, if you have somewhere to be then you can go, but if you want, you can stay." He was juggling his words, but I didn't mind.

"Are you sure?" I turned to face him that time, to look him in the eyes and make sure that he actually wanted me here and it wasn't just pity. I despised pity. His eyes, rounded and slightly slinted but no less beautiful, were scintillating. I could tell he wanted me to stay, and admittedly, I didn't want to leave and be by myself again. The last thing I wanted was to be out in the cold.

"Yeah. I want you to stay." He patted to the empty space beside him on the bed so I tumbled down into it and let him wrap his arms gently around me. It was weird, even though I'd only known him a day that I felt so comfortable with him already. I felt safer around him than I'd felt around anyone in a long time. And I did want to stay. With him. Forever.

"You can stay for as long as you want," he told me, his head resting on mine. I felt his breath tickle to the top of my head as we spoke, his fingers running along my bare chest, forming circles. His other hand lay over my own, running his fingertips over my bruised knuckles and veins.

"Safi," I said, remembering she was lying half off the bed.

"What about her?"

"I dunno, I just assumed you guys were dating."