“Fine,” I mutter, staring at the undulating patterns of light on the dashboard.
“And how are you, really?” he pushes a little further, his voice tinged with a concern that makes my chest tighten.
I want this to be fun. I want to spend some time with Misha, and I don’t want to ruin his hike because I can’t seem to stop worrying him.
I’m fucking all of this up.
Meeting his gaze briefly before looking away, I confess, “I’m not great at sharing my emotions.”
“Fair enough,” he acknowledges. Then, after a pause, he adds, almost playfully, “Nice weather today, isn’t it?” I shoot him a skeptical look, confused. “Weather is the safest topic there is. Easy to talk about the weather.”
“Maybe…” I respond hesitantly, trying to gauge his intentions.
“So, would you say it’s rather cloudy? Maybe you think it’s going to rain?”
“What? No, it should be sunny today. You said?—”
“Amelia, how is the weatherinsideyou?” he interrupts.
Caught off guard, I pause, my defenses wavering under the weight of his sincerity.
I can give him that.
“Stormy,” I admit, the word feeling too inadequate for the turmoil inside.
“That’s okay because storms pass,” he murmurs, his warm smile reaching his eyes as his hand finds my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.
I glance at Misha when he focuses back on the road, noticing the deep lines of fatigue etching his face. “You don’t look like you just woke up either,” I comment, feeling my own concern for him rising.
Misha gives a brief, humorless chuckle, his hands gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. “True, that’s because I didn’t. I have insomnia. It feels like I can never really sleep.”
“Why is that?”
With a sigh, he glances briefly at me before his eyes return to the road. “It’s been like this forever, can’t remember any different. Especially when I was a kid.”
Encouraging him to continue, I tilt my head. “How come?”
“Well, growing up, we didn’t have separate rooms. I shared one with my two older brothers, and my two little sisters shared another. My parents slept in the living room on the sofa because the apartment was too small for all of us,” he explains, a distant look crossing his features. “There was never any space just for me, no quiet place. I thought the noise kept me awake, but later, I realized it wasn’t the problem. I still can’t sleep, even though I’m alone and in my own room. It’s more like the silence is too loud now. I’d grown used to always having someone around.”
“That makes sense,” I utter quietly. “I can’t really relate since I was always alone and had way too much space in a big house. Quite the opposite, but I understand what you’re saying.” A small grin briefly lights up Misha’s face. “Can’t you slip into Oliver’s or Grey’s bed for some company?” I tease, trying to inject some lightness into the conversation.
His laughter, genuine but tinged with sarcasm, fills the car. “Well, Grey would probably kick my ass for trying. I guess Oliver would just cuddle close. But I figured out a long time ago that company doesn’t help either. It’s just something I’ve got to deal with.” His gaze shifts back to the road, the earlier levity fading as quickly as it appeared.
Watching him, a pang of empathy tightens in my chest. He’s like me in some ways, yet so different.
It’s strange how we all carry our silent battles, isn’t it?
“How did you figure that out?” I ask, genuinely curious about how he navigated through his sleepless nights.
Misha’s expression softens, a rueful smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I had a phase where I thought bringing women into my bed and exhausting myself with them would help. But it only made it way more uncomfortable, lying awake next to someone you’d rather not have in your bed in the first place.”
The thought of Misha wearing himself out with other women stirs jealousy in me. Still, I can’t help but laugh, though it’s more out of shock than amusement. “Wow, Misha, that’s… wow.”
He shrugs, a playful grin lighting up his features. “What? We’re being honest, aren’t we? That’s what friends do, right?”
Friends…
The word hangs in my mind.
