She watches me, a battle of patience and impatience shifting in her eyes. Letting out a sigh, she leans back on her hands and kicks off her shoes—laces still tied, like a maniac. “What scares you, Malcolm?”
“Wh—what?” I choke out, stunned by her question.
“What scares you?” Turning to face me, she pulls her feet underneath her and sits on her knees.
“Um. Spiders?”
She shoves my arm, and a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. “You know, I’ve known you for five years now, and I don’t know what scares you. I don’t know what shakes you to your core. Do you even know what scares me?” She places her hand on her chest, one of her bright-pink straps sliding off her shoulder as she does.
“I think so.” My eyes are pinned on the hollow of her collarbone and the softness of her freshly bronzed skin. She waits, again, eyes heavy lidded from the night's events. “You’re scared of elephants. You’re scared of your Aunt Edna’s lumpia.” Her eyes dance as her one-sided grin stretches to a mind-blowing smile. “You’re scared of Lola’s one-word texts. I think you might be a little scared of Emma, especially on Mondays.” She lets out a singleha,the smile still firmly in place. “But most of all, I think…” I suck in a breath, hoping I don’t eat my words. “You’re scared of not being wanted.” Her eyes widen at this, unease swarming within them. She looks away and bites at her thumbnail. I tug her hand away from her mouth and encircle her wrist with my hand, and her pulse pounds in my palm. “Am I close?”
She scoffs at me, pinching my thigh with her free hand. “You’re kind of close.” Smiling, she rests her hand next to my bent leg, her thumb tracing the small scar at the top of my knee. Her dark skin is striking against the pale color of mine. It’salmost laughable. “What about you?” Her eyes stay locked on my leg, thumb moving carefully back and forth over the rigid scar.
Relaxing back onto my hands, I look up at the pendant light fixture directly above us. “I’m not sure.” A half truth. I know what I’m scared to lose—who I’m scared to lose. But what I’m scared of is a different thing entirely. It used to be death, the fear of leaving this Earth sooner than expected, leaving behind everyone and everything you’ve ever known to end up in the sky for eternity. That was what scared me. But the older I got, the more death I started to witness, and after losing Brennan, it became clear to me that it’s unavoidable. “I guess I’m scared of feeling helpless.” I shrug, the truth lingering like the warm air between us.
“Is that why you keep helping Uncle Jerry with his pool?” She snorts.
“It’s a luxury pool with jets, Kate. That’s reason enough.” I scoot back to the top of the bed, resting my head against the thick pillows. Kate joins me, pulling the comforter over her legs and nuzzling deep into the plush. “But yes, I guess I help people because I want to feel useful.”
Turning her body toward me, she flattens the comforter so I can see her face. “Is that the reason you help me?” Her eyes are expectant, anticipating my answer.
“One of them,” I lie. “It’s my duty to help the damsels of this world.”
She swats at me then rests her hand on the peak of my chest, a sting pinching where she hit too hard. The pain subsides as she rubs soothing circles on the swell of my chest. It’s enough to put me in a deep, pleasurable sleep. The noise that leaves me is almost obscene. My cheeks flush as she giggles into the comforter.
“It’s not because I’m a damsel, and you know it.”
“Uh-huh, whatever makes you sleep at night.”
My heart pounds loud and fast in my ears as she splays her fingers, pressing firmly into my chest. My eyes flutter shut. Her touch is enough to ignite the burning passion stuck in my chest and set it ablaze.
“Just admit it,” she whispers.
“Admit what?” I ask, my eyelids heavy with want.
“Everything you do for me…” Her hand moves lower, tracing the ridges of my abdomen. My breath shakes in response as her fingers dance down the center of my stomach, marking the valley that travels from my chest down to my belly button. “You do it…” She lets out a big yawn, sleep disrupting her thought.
Taking her curious hand and pulling it up to my jaw, I kiss the bed of her palm. Her eyes flutter shut as she lets out a soft, gratifying hum. Her dark, thick lashes dance as she fights sleep.
Another big yawn and her body slumps, succumbing to the late hour. Her words are a sleepy whisper, “…because you’re crazy about me.”
“You have no idea.”
Chapter twenty-three
Kate
A dream. It feelslike I woke up, left one dream, and entered into another one. My dainty arms are tangled around a much thicker and burly one, dark skin wrapping around a trunk of muscle with a faint pink line cutting across the bicep. A farmer’s tan. My ankle is crossed over his, like they found each other in the night.
Drool is slithered down my cheek and neck, caking pieces of my hair to the side of my face in the process. Malcolm stretches, his body lengthening against mine, and lets out a soft hum as he continues sleeping. His mouth twitches up in a smile. It’s comforting to see him having a peaceful sleep after the other night.
I let myself soak in the sight of him in the morning, in the bed, lying next to me, for a moment before slowly releasing his arm and sliding out of bed. Everything about the scene is comforting. Even if Malcolm sleeps like a Victorian child on his deathbed, limbs straight and head pointed up to the ceiling, it’s peaceful in the most adorable way. The sight sends a warm fuzzy deep down my center. Goosebumps cover his legs from where the airconditioner blasted him all night. I cover him with my half of the comforter and slide into the bathroom.
I spend a dramatic amount of time in the shower, replaying the events of last night. Seeing Eric. Seeing Malcolm in disguise. The attempted kiss goodnight from my ex. Falling asleep next to Malcolm. I feel dizzy from the emotional roller coaster I’ve put myself through. Maybe Emma was right: I am torturing myself.
A knock sounds on the bathroom door. “You alright in there?” Malcolm’s voice, rough and gravelly from the morning, sends a tickle down my spine.
“I’m done now!” I rush around, throwing on my clothes for the day, and swing the door open. He’s leaning against the doorframe, wrapped in a towel with droplets of water gliding down his arms and ribs. They taunt me as they travel down farther and farther. I snap my eyes up to his, a pool of blue so hypnotizing it’s hard to think straight.
