Hey, man, I have to pee. Be sure to listen in.
He pops up from the bed, sneaking by me to open the bathroom door. Holding out his hands like he’s Vanna White and I just solved the puzzle. “Your throne, my lady.”
I stomp to the bathroom and shut the door, succumbing to my fate but pouting as I sit. Until I hear the water in our kitchenrunning and Owen says, “I’m just going to sing a bit until you’re done.”
And he croons “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” until I slip into the bed to sleep next to him for the first time.
11
NOTHING ELSE
FORREST FRANK AND THOMAS RHETT
OWEN
Suite Hearts, Day 2
I knew I was in love with Brooke the first time I ever saw her sleeping.
We’d become friends the year before when she’d moved to Honey Hill. Being the hotshot freshman on the varsity baseball team, I had the audacity to use every bit of my fifteen-year-old swagger to ask for Brooke’s number the moment I saw her fresh face in biology class.
Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately—for me, I forgot I was wearing my favorite, “Ask Me About My T-Rex” shirt. And when, instead of giving me her number, the mysterious new girl silently gestured to my shirt, one sharp eyebrow raised in wait, and shot her suspicious half-smile at me, I could do nothing but lift my tee, flip the bottom over my head, and reveal the T-Rex printed on the inside.
The next day, Brooke wore a “This Is My Tricera-Top” T-shirt and only gave me her number when I slid into the empty seatbeside her at lunch and appreciatively commented, “Clever girl.” TheJurassic Parkreference was apparently too good to resist, and the rest was history. We were inseparable.
The following year, after Homecoming, Brooke came back to my house instead of her own. I didn’t know much about her home life yet, only that her mom had been married a couple of times and was dating a guy Brooke referred to simply asSlimy. A nickname I didn’t think to ask questions about at the time. I loved that she preferred to come to my house after school or meet me at my grandparents’ flower shop after helping her mom at their in-home salon. I didn’t care where we were, really, as long as we were together.
So, after a long night of football, dancing, and hanging out with our friends, I didn’t ask questions when Brooke asked me to take her home or when, after pointing the vehicle in one direction, she asked me to stop and clarified, “No, O. Take me to your home. Please.” I happily turned around and thanked God she wanted to stay with me a little longer.
Brooke had already fallen asleep by the time we pulled into my driveway, barely fluttering an eyelash on the long, gravel road or when I set it in park and turned the old Bronco off. Leaning her head just barely against the window, wrapped in my oversized letterman jacket and the red dress she’d chosen for the occasion, I couldn’t help but stare. To study the person who’d become so important to me in such a short amount of time.
All my teammates dated around and gave me a hard time for ignoring the girls at our school. But watching the softness stretch across Brooke’s normally hard-edged features, wondering what she was dreaming about, and wishing I could sit there with her all night so that she could just stay as peaceful as she was in that moment, I knew why I didn’t give any other girls the time of day. How could I give up the chance of spending my time with her for anyone else?
There, at sixteen, in a car that smelled like a mixture of fast food and flower deliveries, I let my best friend sleep for over an hour, coming to the realization that I’d give her anything in the world if it meant I could be in hers. Friendship, laughter, love, or even just a place to rest.
It’s why she has a room in the house that she helped me pick out. Why I insisted she choose all the furnishings, from the color palette down to the bed sheets, hoping I could give her a place for peace. And why I sleep better on the other side of that bedroom wall each and every night she spends on Nectarine Drive instead of at the small apartment she rents across town, knowing she’s safe and at home. For a little while, that peaceful softness I crave so much for her is written across her face, even if I can’t see it.
And it’s definitely why I’m still lying in the most uncomfortable position I’ve been in, maybe ever. Curled on my side, my toes skimming the camper’s wall, and my arm crunched awkwardly in the sling, I’ve been awake for hours. Not just because there’s a woodpecker that sounds like he’s hammering into the side of the Tinkerbell. No, I’ve got much more going on.
Despite her initial protests and her adorable insistence we not touch each other at bedtime last night, Brooke is snuggled into me so deliciously, I’ve barely been able to sleep. And I’ve never felt better.
Every time I start to get worried I’m losing her in this secret battle plan of mine, like the snag during theNewlywed Gameyesterday, she confirms it by taking an emotional leap away. But that’s not the end of it. She tries a new tactic, draws new lines in the sand, and swears she’ll hold to them. But, then, just as quickly, she’s the one leaning into me for comfort and reassurance. Something I will happily give until she realizes what a beautiful fool she is and stays married to me forever.
Last night, she was clearly in her head. One minute, she was uttering a clipped good night and trying to make herself as small as possible inour bed—I love saying that—lest we accidentally touch each other. But after finally settling in the quiet, her breathing deepened, the tension obviously coursing through her body released, and she turned towards me, burrowing her face and hands so close to my chest, I could barely breathe, not wanting to move or wake her.
Hours later, I’m still basking in her nearness. I hope she makes a home here and never leaves. I’m certainly not going anywhere.
Brooke sighs in her sleep, rubbing her nose affectionately against my bare chest. I know she’d be horrified by how much her subconscious is showing right now, but I’m not sorry, at all. I might actually be in heaven. I also want to note my hands have remained completely to themselves. Brooke laid boundaries, and I have abided completely. But I won’t be blamed for enjoying myself immensely.
How can a guy sleep with the woman of his dreams cuddling in so exquisitely? What if I get to wake up like this for the rest of my life?
“Youshmellgooood,” Brooke mumbles incoherently as she starts to wake, shifting more but still nestled like a cozy little cat in the crook of my neck and chest. “What time isssit? Whatsthatnoiiiise?” she whines in a whisper.
Her breath tickles my skin, a dangerous temptation to claim her mouth here and now and never leave this bed again. Instead, I let my chin rest on her head and say, “It’s still early. Barely light out. I think it’s a woodpecker.”
Unfortunately, it’s my voice that breaks the spell of Brooke’s sleepy haze, jarring her so completely she leaps up, smacking her head into my chin, leading me to jerk aside and kick my foot into the wall I’ve been avoiding all night.
“Oh my gosh.” Brooke grabs my cheeks, checking for injury in the low light, biting her lip as she looks my face over. “I’m so sorry, O. I didn’t realize you… were there.”
