A few minutes later I felt warm hands on my feet. Ointment on my blisters.
“You’re really good at this,” I mumbled. “And I keep snapping at you. I don’t know why, but… I’m really sorry, Noah. You were just being nice.”
He was silent for second. And I wasn’t quite sure I heard his next words, or if they were a part of my imagination.
“I’m not just being nice, Luna.”
But he was!
He was the kind of person who took care of things without being asked. Who carried his mom’s shopping bags, who kept watch over an entire bus of retirees without even realizing it.
So why did he seem to be running from it? From this part of himself?
PRETTY WOMAN
I didn’t know how long Noah stayed.
Throughout the night, I drifted awake a few times—just enough to register movement, a drink being offered, and rewetting the cloth on my forehead. He didn’t speak much. He was just…there.
Once, I opened my eyes and saw him stretched out on the second bed. Still dressed, but his shoes were off, and his arms were folded across his chest like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep, that wayward strand of hair curling around his cheek.
I hadn’t asked him to stay. I hadn’t expected it. But knowing he was there made me feel protected.
Without feeling like a burden.
I vaguely registered that that didn’t make sense.
I would figure out why later.
However, I eventually fell into a deep sleep. It could have been days or just hours, but I didn’t dream. Pretty sure I didn’t even move.
I must have been more tired than I’d realized.
At some point, I registered the muffled slam of a door down the hall. Voices. Footsteps. I rolled over and fell back asleep.
The next time I regained any sort of awareness, I was able to make out the sound of traffic moving outside the window, car horns and motorcycles, muted by the distance and the glass.
Was it morning? Late morning?
I opened my eyes to find that the room was almost pitch black. Room-darkening curtains were drawn, but the small amount of sunlight that did come in blazed through the edges, too bright to be early.
It was definitely daytime.
My head still ached, but somehow…I didn’t feel quite as heavy as I had the night before.
My body felt like it was mine again.
Surprisingly, I also felt…hungry. Though I supposed that shouldn’t have been a surprise, really, considering I hadn’t eaten more than a few crackers since Holy Guacamole.
How long had I been asleep?
Cheese on a cracker! Had I missed the bus? I sat up too fast, the blood rushing to my head, and had to close my eyes again until the room steadied.
Wait, no. Now I remembered. We were staying here two nights. Calm down.
I wasn’t late. I wasn’t in trouble.
That established, I peered hazily around the room, trying to gather my bearings.
