Page 30

“Not much,” he says.

Then I’ll tell him everything I know, because he’s basically my prisoner. “It’s based on a real person’s experiences,” I say, eagerness thrumming under my skin despite the time of night. “A lance corporal who carried messages across no-man’s-land. It’s a great representation of trench warfare, though it has some historical inaccuracies.”

“Oh?” Aaron smiles from the corner of my eye. “Like what?”

“The German trenches shouldn’t be empty here,” I say, gesturing to the screen.

“I see.”

“And there should be more machine guns.”

“That so?”

“Also—it’s early for this one, but you’ve seen it, so it’s fine—they show Sikh soldiers with the British units. But they were suffering casualties, so it’s unlikely you would’ve seen them at this point.”

My attention is glued to my laptop, but I feel the heat of his stare. Maybe he’s waiting for me to shut up about things he doesn’t care about. I try not to chirp too much, but it’s difficult, because Aaron keeps pressing for my opinion on certain scenes, meaning I have no choice but to indulge him and info-dump.

It’s a high-tension movie, but I’m beginning to doze. An hour in, Aaron’s hand sneaks across the bedspread and scoops mine up, then begins to massage little circles along the joints. It’s soothing, though I humph at him to show how I feel about him doing whatever he wants. He merely smirks in response as my head sinks deeper into my pillow.

When I blink, the lights are off, my laptop is gone, and I’m curled on my side under my blankets. Blearily, I peek over my shoulder to find Aaron sitting against the headboard, fidgeting with his gadget toy. He glances at me, his thumbs working the cogs faster. “Missed the end,” he whispers. “Like last time.”

I feel a pang of guilt in my stomach. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Go back to sleep. I’ll get out of here soon. I just wanted to…” He fades away, his attention shifting to his fidget toy, his expression uncharacteristically flat. “Never mind.”

I have a sinking feeling about what he was going to say. He probably just wants to bask in this moment—one of the few where I’m not glaring or snipping at him. When I’m asleep, things must feel normal. Like nothing has changed.

“Did you leave after I fell asleep?” I ask, drawing the comforter higher over my chin.

“You woke up, and I asked if I could cuddle with you and sleep here.”

The blanket rises higher over my face so he won’t see the rosiness surely blossoming through my cheeks. “What did I say?”

Aaron plucks a cog from his toy loose and rolls it along his lower lip, the puckishness returning to his smile. “What do you think?”

I can’t believe I would’ve allowed something as intimate as cuddling after a first date. But he seems forlorn. The ghost of melancholy is etched into his grin, in the current dullness of his eyes. He’s hurting. And why wouldn’t he be? If we’ve been together for over a year…if he truly loves me…

I chew on my tongue. One date. It’s been one date, and already my animosity is fractured. He shouldn’t be able to win me over so easily. But I feel the weight of his sincerity in every word. In the intensity of his stare. In the way he cradles my hands. Even now, the fact that he’s content to sit beside me in silence while I sleep, just so he can spend more time with me…

“Do what you want,” I mumble, turning my back to him.

“Really?” Clearly astonished, Aaron peeks over my head to see my face, which I promptly bury in my pillow. “You’re sure?”

“Should I change my mind?” I ask, huffing.

“No, no. I shan’t allow it.” He’s speaking through another teasing smile. He’s been touchy-feely, but I’ve never felt threatened by his grip. He meets my resistance with his own stubbornness, and maybe he knows I don’t mind it as much as I claim I do. He’s really warm, after all.

I hear rustling, and when I peek back, I see he’s now wearing nothing but black boxer shorts. “I didn’t say you could strip!” I croak, to which he giggles maniacally and slinks under the covers.

“I get hot.” He nestles his head on my pillow. His arm creeps around my waist, his fingers purposefully grazing the hint of skin between my shirt and pants. I feel a puff of air against my ear when he notices me shiver. Laughter. I resist giving him a good kick as he fits his waist against the curve of mine. His arm sneaks between my limp ones, his fingers resting inches from my face. I can smell chlorine mingling with his musky bodywash.

I try to steady my raging heartbeat, wishing I weren’t so easily flustered. It doesn’t help when he tugs my shirt down, sliding my collar lower along my nape. Aaron’s long exhale unfurls against my skin, as if the sight of my neck has frustrated him. Then I feel the warmth of his lips just below my hairline, and a pleasant, unexpected tingle scratches down my back.

“Go to sleep,” I order, scoffing when he slides a leg between my curled ones, tangling them beneath the blankets. How are his feet warm? I guess I don’t mind them touching mine, since I forgot socks.

“You first.” He plants a soft kiss in the scoop between my neck and shoulder.

“So you can put your hands all over me in my sleep?” I demand.