Jasper makes a sound like a laugh under his breath as we continue moving. “Here we are.” I have no idea where ‘here’ is until he’s guiding me to turn and the backs of my knees hit the bed. I collapse onto the mattress, holding my breath as Jasper’s warm presence moves away. He rustles around somewhere nearby and then a soft click is followed by the glow from a flashlight. He hands it to me before rummaging in the drawer of his bedside table and pulling out two battery-operated tea light candles.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much.” The word is carried on a sigh of relief.
“So.” Jasper moves to stand in front of me. “I’m not sure—”
“Can I sleep with you?” I blurt. “Even if I took the flashlight with me and kept it on, I know I’d be jumping at every little noise all night.” As if to prove my point, thunder rumbles, making me jolt.
Jasper is quiet for several beats, watching me. Finally he says, “Scoot over. This is my side of the bed.”
I hand him the flashlight wordlessly and scurry to the other side of the bed. I don’t say anything as I slip under the sheets and get settled. I think part of me is afraid he’ll change his mind or tell me I can stay in his bed and he’ll sleep on the couch. Even though we’re becoming good friends, I don’t imagine he shares his bed with many people.
Jasper arranges the flashlight and tea lights on the bedside table before crawling into bed. There are a few inches of space between us and yet he fills my senses—the warmth of his body, the subtle scent of his soap, the sound of his even breathing. My eyes are open, staring at the ceiling. Jasper’s quiet breaths make me think he’s fallen asleep until movement catches the corner of my eye and I feel him looking at me.
“It’s the dark that frightens you, isn’t it? That, and…something more.” He shifts the tiniest bit, not quite facing me although now I can feel his body almost touching mine. “All the locks on your apartment door. The fact you travel with your own night light.”
My fear of the dark isn’t a secret to those who know me well. Gwen and Marisol are the only two people besides my mom who know the full story, though. Whenever it came up with anyone else—sleepovers at friends’ houses, guys I’ve spent the night with, even my three-year relationship with TJ—I’d make light of it and tell them my fear of the dark is a byproduct of an overactive imagination.
Everyone has something they’re afraid of, right? Sometimes it’s irrational. And other times it’s rooted in trauma.
“When I was thirteen, someone broke into our house one night.” I continue staring at the ceiling rather than look at Jasper. “My mom woke me up and told me someone was in the house. She made me hide in the closet, and I had to promise I’d stay put until she came to get me. This was in the days before cell phones and our portable phone was broken, so Mom had to run back to her room to call 9-1-1 from the landline. Luckily, there were police officers nearby. They arrived quickly and caught the guy as he was running out of our house. It didn’t feel quick to me, though, sitting alone in my pitch-dark closet, face buried in my clothes to stifle my sobs.”
Jasper makes a soft sound of dismay, inching closer to me. Without thinking, I roll to face him. His arm goes around me and I nestle my head into the space under his chin, tucking my arms against his chest.
“We got an alarm system the next day,” I say. “I slept with my mom for a solid year after that. Even when I started out in my own bed, I’d wake up from a nightmare and end up in her bed. I was already in therapy to help me deal with my parents’ divorce, so my doctor had to do double duty. I eventually became less afraid and less paranoid, but the general anxiety never left me, and I can’t stand to be in complete darkness.”
Jasper’s arms tighten around me. He doesn’t say anything, and I’m oddly relieved. I’m suddenly so exhausted, my eyelids feel like they’re made of lead. My heart gives a little squeeze when Jasper’s lips brush against my forehead, lingering for a moment before moving away.
I never expected this was how I’d end up in Jasper’s arms. Or in his bed. I could have done without the adrenaline-pumping fear tonight, but Jasper was right there when I needed him, comforting, compassionate, and patient. I snuggle into him, taking advantage of the warmth of his body, the safety I feel in his arms. And as I drift to sleep, I find myself thinking it’s no use trying to stop the inevitable: I’m going to fall head over heels in love with Jasper Perry.
