I noticed Bee made up her face with some light makeup while I was gone. While Sybil was gorgeous the way I found her that first night—raw and ethereal—the soft blush on her cheekbones, and the definition of her already striking features served as a gut punch.
Fuck,she was something else.
Her lips were plump and glowing; her once heat-ravaged face dewy and alive again. Her hair had returned to its previous luster, curled into loose platinum waves.
I dropped the beer bottle from my mouth, watching as her gaze dropped to my lips before returning to my eyes. “You look nice,” I told her, and I meant it.
A blush crept up her neck at that, making me smile even wider than I already was, but she didn’t look away. She was growing very brave with me indeed.
Bee popped up behind Sybil, snatching a few bags of snacks off the counter and hoarding them back with her to her spot in the blankets. The entire time, I held Sybil’s gaze.
“Okay, let’s start this bitch!” Bee shrieked, tapping at the large remote as the room’s lights dropped to a low glow and the screen came to life.
Sybil finally broke our stare-off and glanced away at the screen. I reached for a bag of chips, snagging one from Bee’s stash while feigning clumsiness to brush close to Sybil. It was a classic high-school move.
“Hey!” Bee squealed. “I wanted those!”
“Too bad,” I teased.
Relaxing back onto a pillow and propping a knee up, I opened the bag of Cheetos and extracted a large handful, not worried about the cheese dust. I took a few Cheetos for myselfbefore offering some to Sybil.
She turned and settled against the pillows, then stretched her legs out under a giant, fluffy blanket. Looking like a shy kitten offered a treat, she took a few pieces from my hand; her gaze flitting between the screen, my eyes, and the Cheetos.
When the movie began, I watched her. She ate in small bites, smiling now and then at the characters and their witty quips—but soon enough the movie drew me in and everyone was laughing and engrossed in the story.
Bee continued plying us with more and more champagne and more bottles of beer. She tossed hot pretzel bites at us, and snacks got passed around and shared like family. A comfortable rhythm developed. Bill sampled everything, and Mr. Beans found a new desire for Nacho Cheese Doritos, getting himself stuck in a bag.Beerfestwas a hit, followed byBalls of Fury, and thenHubie Halloweensince it was nearly October.
Well into movie night, everyone feeling loose and at ease, I tugged at the edge of Sybil’s furry blanket to test my boundaries. It was plenty large, and the perfect size to share without being too forward about it. She was hesitant to give in at first, but soon conceded. I pulled the blanket over my legs, sharing her warmth.
As she grew tired, she leaned against me. It was slow at first, but then as sleep overtook her, she gave in entirely.
CHAPTER 24
Sybil
I was warm, not too warm, but cozy warm.
Curled into myself in the fetal position, I was facing a source of heat so delicious I refused to turn away from it. It was like I’d somehow squeezed myself into a perfectly neat box, just like a cat, and loafed.
My hands grasped onto fabric, each palm comforted with the soft feeling. The surrounding air smelled of wood and leather, and there was a heavy beating in my ear where I’d pressed it against the softest pillow. I felt cradled.
Letting out a moan of comfort, my perfect box tightened around me with the most delicious constriction. Hazy with sleep, I tried to recall the events of last night. Warmth enveloped my lower back under my fuzzy pajamas. It moved, gripping my skin before sliding up my spineand resting between my shoulder blades, caressing.
Trying to make sense of it, I realized it was a hand.
My eyes flew open. A curve of tattooed skin greeted me, and the hemline of a shirt collar that wasn’t mine. My head rose and fell, as though atop a lazy ocean wave on a life raft. I didn’t dare move, taking stock of my limbs.
Hands: Grasping a shirt.Notmy shirt. Also not grasping, but holding on for dear life.
Arms: Folded against my chest.
Legs: Tucked up into me, good.
A hand stroked my back again.Not good.That box? It was Nash—all of Nash—wrapped around me like a security blanket.
I must have defaulted to comfort mode. It seems I’d found a comfortable hidey-hole.
This was bad.
