Protection

Chapter 15

TRIS POV

A familiar sharp jawline lined with stubble is the first thing my eyes land on when I awake.

Half of my body is thrown on top of Tobias's, and I don't know how we ended up like this, but I am not complaining. Puffs of air tickle the top of my head, and I cuddle up into him even closer. I stay in the comfortable position until my extreme thirst coaxes me to my feet.

Stifling a groan when my sore feet hit the floor, I shuffle my way over to the bathroom. Those dreaded heels combined with all the dancing and standing around took everything out of me. I was too exhausted to do anything last night besides collapse in Tobias's arms and let him carry me upstairs. I sucked it up and managed to change into a shirt and shorts, but then I got excessively needy that late at night and stumbled down the hall to his room. After he told me he loved me, I wanted nothing more than to stay as close to him as possible.

Despite the aching, I still stop and take a moment to watch my boyfriend sleep, smiling to myself. His mouth is slightly opened, though it doesn't cause him to snore. His hair is messy, and his face is so relaxed that he almost doesn't look like the same person.

I can't handle how adorable he is sometimes.

Finally, I move to go to the bathroom. Knowing that I probably look like a mess right now, I skip looking in the mirror and go straight to filling up a stray glass cup with water from the faucet. Drinking it soothes my throat, so I set the glass down and go back to bed.

But when I return to the bed, Tobias's face is no longer peaceful, and instead it is contorted into a pained expression. His eyes are squeezed shut, his breaths harsh and sharp.

Must be a nightmare.

"Tobias," I whisper, shaking his bicep to wake him up. It strains underneath my hand. "Hey, Tobias, wake up. It's just a dream."

Suddenly, he sits up so fast that I don't have any time to move, so our foreheads collide painfully.

"Ow," I whine, massaging my head to relieve the ache.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he mumbles groggily, rubbing his eyes and lying back down. I do the same, this time putting some distance between us to avoid another mishap, but still curling up to him.

"Do you have nightmares a lot?" I ask.

He shrugs and rolls over to face me. "I guess." He sounds fine, but he looks spooked and deeply affected by whatever he saw in his mind.

It brings out a pity in me that I would never show him. I knew that he had nightmares, but I was not aware that they happened this often, or that they had a lasting impact on him.

My upcoming question is risky, so I bury my face in his chest to hide from him. "Do the antidepressants help?" I inquire slowly and carefully.

To my luck, he seems too sleepy to care. I feel his fingers start carding through my hair, and it lets me know that he is not angry that I snooped a long time ago, or insecure that he has the pills. His temper used to scare me, but now I know what makes him upset and don't like to push his buttons just because I don't like arguing with him.

"I don't really take them anymore," he replies smoothly, as if the inquiry didn't even faze him. "They had a negative effect on me. Like not only did I get nauseous a lot, but they also made me feel...not like myself."