“Geez, you’re fun at parties, I bet,” I said.
“I have a routine.”
“Routines are fine,” I blabbered. “I myself am not wearing a bra, though I did do laundry, so I do have on underwear, which is a step in the right direction.” I nodded to myself.
You sound like an idiot.I leaned back against the mound of pillows and tried not to freak out as Blade eased the covers back on his side of the bed, sat down, and swung his long legs over.
He leaned back against the pillows. I was hyperaware of every motion in the bed, the sound of his breath, the way the mattress dipped as he settled, the tug of the blankets over my body from the motion of his. The bed that a few moments ago had felt enormous was now clearly too small.
Blake reached out and tapped the touchscreen next to his bed, pitching the room into darkness.
I lay there listening to him breathing. I was holding my breath, lying as still as a Barbie doll but without the cute sleepwear. I let out my breath as quietly as I could; there was no way I was going to be able to sleep. I usually liked to shift and roll around. My leg was falling asleep, and my foot itched. I gingerly eased over, wincing as Blade moved.
“Maybe I should sleep on the couch,” I whispered faintly.
“No,” Blade snapped and rolled over.
* * *
I woketo someone swearing the next morning. I had all of the covers wrapped around me like a cocoon. Blade was sitting up, shirtless, the black cotton pants low on his waist.
“What the hell?” he said, looking at me. I peeped out from my blanket bubble.
“This is a very comfortable bed,” I said sheepishly and started to unwind the blankets.
Blade jerked the corner of the comforter, pulling. His hand stopped as a high-pitched whirring noise came from outside the window. Blade jumped up and flung open the curtains.
“I’m going to kill my brothers!” he roared. Blade flung himself down on the floor, to the startled chittering of Cesario, and came back out from under the bed with an Airsoft rifle.
“What are you doing?” I screamed. “Are you going to shoot someone?”
“I’m going to shoot that drone,” he said, wrenching open the window and firing out into the night. Sparks flew, and the little drone death spiraled and crashed into me.
“Ooof!”
“Are you all right?” Blade asked in concern, running his hands over my body, or rather, over the five pounds of blankets I still had draped over me.
“I’m fine,” I said as Blade picked up the drone. The digital touchscreen by the bed read six o’clock. I usually didn’t get up for at least another hour. I yawned.
“I’m going back to sleep,” I told him. After quietly wigging out the night before, my brain had finally said enough and shut off. However, I did not feel rested. I shuffled back to bed, crawling like a blanket caterpillar onto the mattress.
Beeep!The alarm sounded.
“Gross! Why do you have your alarm set so early?”
“I have to work out,” Blade said.
“You did that last night,” I mumbled then cringed as all the lights came on and the morning news blared from the speakers.
“Cardio in the morning, weights in the evening,” he said, going into the bathroom to change.
As soon as he left, I fumbled for the tablet. I glared at it as I tapped the screen.
“Unauthorized user,” the robotic British voice declared as I tried to turn the lights off.
“I guess I’m going to get up,” I grumbled.
22
