I have no idea who I am anymore.
He wraps me up tight with one hand gently massaging the back of my head until I’m lulled into a semi-conscious state. His short beard tickles my neck when he whisper-sings low in my ear, “Lu’s never let me down before, mmm-mm…”
My entire body shudders, and I snuggle into him to steal his warmth as I drift back to sleep. Because your body temperature drops when you’re sleeping, right?
It’s got to be that.
A dreamy sigh escapes me, and I blame it on the mild coma until I realize he’s laughing. I smack his chest with the back of my hand and hastily retreat. Foul. Ball.
“You dirty hippie…” That rulebreaker knows my weaknesses.
He chuckles. “I’ll behave. Please?” He gently tugs my shirt, and I press my groggy face into his chest without a fight. “I’m sorry.”
“You are not,” I mumble into his shirt, wondering if he can feel my heart race.
“You’re right. I’m not.”
He hugs me with lessintensityand kisses the top of my head like any family member would kiss a toddler.
“Be safe.” I push him away before I decide to lock him in my room and call it self-care. “Flash the light when you get in your room.”
“I will,” he says smoothly, with sparks of mischief in his eyes.
“And you callmePunk,” I mumble as I shuffle off to bed.
Chapter 5
Hold on to the Nights
I’m still jittery as the lock clicks into place when Daniel leaves. He knows he caught me off guard.
We’ve always flirted.Playfully.All the guys flirt. They’reguys. Jace’s flirting usually ends with bickering and Sam’s ends with me checking his homework, but DC and I tend to push the limits until one of us laughs.
Obviously, we scaled back our nonsense and spent less time together once I started dating Nathan, but recently it’s made a comeback. Our flirting is a third wheel that stays with us like an ironic chaperone.
I turn on my lamp and flip through the notebook on my nightstand. I’ve always wanted to write stories about love and friendship. And I do write. Always have.Sort of. This notebook is full of words scrawled on page after page of unfinished songs, memories, and random scenes—bits and pieces of conversations and funny lines—both my own and witty phrases I’ve heard over the years along with comforting words unsuspecting heroes havepoured into me when I needed it the most. I’m too tired to put them together most nights, but one day I will.
“If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight without kissing you so thoroughly you couldn’t wait to come home to me.”
My breaths quicken as I scribble the words on the page, hurrying like someone might find out I kept something that didn’t belong to me. I set my Bret Michaels bobblehead back on top of it to hold my page, then plug in my phone and turn off the lamp as I lie down.
Daniel’s light turns on and then off, and I text one last message before I sleep.
Me:Happy Birthday, DC.
He sends back a heart and then a second message.
DC:Thank you, LG.
LG isLittle Girl, but I’m not sure why. Because I’m short?
Me:Why do you call me LG?
DC:You’re breaking my heart.
He sends a link to the Lynyrd Skynyrd song that was playing when he caught me falling off the counter the day we met.
Me:Aww. I remember.
