I swear, if I believed in fate, I’d think it was fucking with me. Who did I piss off in a past life for this attraction to feel so kismet? What a sick joke.
She takes the glass, and our fingertips brush.
I freeze.
Just for a second.
Not wanting to pull my hand away.
Her touch is electric, igniting something I haven’t felt in far too long. It feels like the start of my heart beating again, after being cold and dead for quite some time.
She brings the cup to her mouth, taking the medicine and sipping the water. Her eyes stay on mine the whole time, never once looking away. Her gaze is questioning, like she’s trying to figure something out.
Figure me out.
I’m a puzzle too complicated for even the best jigsaw players to solve.
She’d be better off forgetting about me entirely.
So would I.
I break the moment of intense eye contact and let my gaze drift down her body. Taking in her bare, creamy shoulders. The curves of her cleavage, dangerously close to spilling from her dress. The curve of her waist where it meets her hip, just before the red, fuzzy blanket obstructs my view of everything below.
Then I’m moving. Backing up, putting space between us.
I need to get away.
I force my gaze to the floor, hoping she didn’t see my lazy perusal of her body. She sets the cup down on the coffee table and yawns, eyes drowsy once more.
“You should get some sleep,” I choke out, the words like acid in my throat.
She hesitates, long enough that I almost look at her again.
But that’s too dangerous.
Then, very softly, she says, “What if I don’t want to?”
I exhale sharply. “Don’t.”
My tone is laced with warning.
It comes out sharper than I intended. Because if she does, if she continues, this sleep-deprived version of me could be convinced to stay here. To talk to her all night. To let these boundaries between us continue to crumble.
And I can’t allow that.
Her exhaustion wins out, a small miracle, and she’s asleep once more. I cover her back up with the blanket, telling myself it’s only to make sure she doesn’t get cold. That’s innocent enough.
And then I decide it’s time to get some sleep myself.
I retreat from the room, headed toward the stairs, but not before saying one last thing.
“Goodnight, Troublemaker.”
The words slip out before I can stop them and I shut off the light before I can see if she smiles.
12
SOPHIE
