Paper Bride ✔️ (Book 4 - DP Series - COMPLETE)

11. The Kiss

I used to sleep like a dead horse, but times have changed me. I've been lying awake now for three hours and sleep has done nothing but taunt me from its soft and luxurious sofa that's nestled deep inside my skull. I'd throttle sleep if I could, but I can't... because I need it. I'm nearly desperate for it.

I feel delirious. My eyes no longer focus. I'm just staring glassy-eyed around the dark room like an owl. They say that exhaustion can cause a dream-like sensation, as if you're floating through life. I beg to differ. Exhaustion is a nightmare. It's literally driving me to madness. I find myself creating odd scenarios in my head. Like, I want to climb up the walls and dangle from the ceiling like a bat just to watch my mom's reaction when she wakes up. Or perch myself in the window as I yodel into the quietness of the night. Or plank Seth while he's sleeping.

None of these would end well for me, I'm sure.

So, instead, I stare at the clock on my phone until it reads five am. I tell myself that's a reasonable time to get up, even though my younger self understood the importance of beauty rest. I envy the days of endless sleep. Heck, I slept through getting plastic-wrapped to my bed once. That's saying something.

With light footsteps, I meander my way around the small guest room with as much stealth as my lubberly self can manage. I only run into the side table once, scraping wood legs against wood floors. My heart actually stops working in that moment as I hurry to glance blindly at my sleeping mom. Seriously, out here at the edge of the world, there are no streetlights. The only illumination we get this far from town is from the moon, and it has decided to tuck itself behind a cloud or something because it's mysteriously MIA. I'm staring directly into the depths of an abyss.

The realization of how horrifying this room is suddenly gives me images of arms creeping out from under the bed and wrapping around my ankles. I don't let my imagination get much further than that before I'm hightailing it out of the spare room, phone in hand. I fumble to find the flashlight on the small device and try to tap it on.

It's only in that moment that I realize there's light already coming from the living room. I tiptoe out, eyes squinted as the painful sting of illumination jabs me in the retina. A floor beam creeks under foot and I freeze. Maybe nobody heard it. But the moment the thought flutters into my mind, it's dashed away by Seth's lean silhouette stepping around the corner.

He glances down the hallway, obviously looking for the intruder, but nearly stumbles back when his eyes land on my willowy, creepy self. I'm sure I look like some hunched over possessed grandma with the way I'm slinking down the hallway. I'm trying to crouch into the shadows in hopes of remaining unseen, but it doesn't work. He spots me instantaneously.

"Boo," I whisper, popping up from my stooped position and making the last few steps into the living room.

The living room is connected to the kitchen, and Jackson has designed it so that the couch acts as a divider between the two spaces. Seth must have been puttering around in the kitchen because that's the room that's lit up.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" he says, making his way passed the sofa to where he's been stirring something at the kitchen counter.

I follow him and take an unobtrusive glance around his shoulder to find him making a bowl of Ramen noodles. Guess grilled cheese wasn't enough for dinner.

"Nope," I mutter around a yawn.

I get a sudden desire to lash out at myself for yawning. Yawns are stupid. They're like a body's way of blaming a person for not sleeping... but it's my own darn body's fault for not sleeping. So don't go rubbing your exhaustion in my face.

"Want some?"

I pull my eyes away from where they are unfortunately aimed at Seth's rear end, and smile up at him. He gives me an odd look, the twitch of a grin settling onto his lips, before holding his bowl of noodles out for me. I nod, affection radiating from my face as I take the warm dish in my hands. I slurp up a bite—or three—of the salty, soupy mess, my innards humming in bliss as they absorb the heat. Seth's gaze is transfixed on me, and I have no doubt that the heated look in his eyes has nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with warning me to slow it down.