“Shh, it’s ok. You don’t need to explain. Unless you want to. Whatever you need, I’m here for it.”
“It’s ok. It’s just that, the way he died was pretty awful. I don’t know if you’ve read any of the articles, but--”
“Yea,” his voice is raspy, “yea, I did.”
“So you know they left him alone for hours. He was unconscious, but...anyway, I have these awful nightmares. It’s like I’m there--I can see him, but I can never get to him. I can’t help him. Sometimes guys are blocking the stairway where he fell, other times, it’s like I’m in slow motion and no matter how hard I try, I never reach him.” Tears are streaming quietly down my face and Ty brushes them away with his thumb. “So... I don’t really sleep. It’s like my body knows that sleep equals nightmares. So, I catch a few hours here and there when my body just can’t stay awake anymore, but nothing too long. I was diagnosed with PTSD-induced insomnia. There are meds for it, of course, but when I take them, I can barely stay awake. So, I choose this. Just enough sleep to function on, and movies to pass the time.”
He pulls me closer, and kisses the top of my head. “So, eventually you crash, though, right?”
“Yea, once every few weeks. I try to time it so it’s on a weekend, but yeah...you can’t really time this kind of stuff. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s just the way things are, for now, anyway.”
He reaches around me, presses play, and the action starts up again on screen. Ty curls his body around mine, and I feel safe and cared for. I guess sleep really is overrated.
Chapter 13
Phoebe
I’m not trying to jinx anything, but it’s been a damn good week so far. I’m keeping my head above water in my Austen class, I absolutely love my job at the childcare center, my art classes are like my own personal playground, and Mel and Ian have become my very closest friends.
It’s weird. I thought I had best friends before. I mean, I had the same friend group from 5th grade all the way up to senior year. We spent countless nights at each other’s houses, borrowed each other’s clothes, and kept each other’s secrets. But, when my life changed irrevocably overnight, my friendships changed, too. I guess maybe I can’t blame them. I mean, it’s hard to deal with grief--hard to know what to say and what not to say, especially at 17. But instead of sticking around and trying to figure it out, trying to stumble through it, they all deserted me.
I guess it would be fair to say I deserted them, too. It was easier--easier to stay in my house, to take care of my mom. To go to work and come home. Venturing out to a party, or even out to our local pizza place felt both wrong and panic-inducing. I’d becomethat girl.People either judged my brother harshly because he pledged a frat to begin with or stumbled awkwardly in conversation with me for fear of saying the wrong thing. So, I let those friendships fade away. And I can’t really say I’ve missed them. That’s not to say I haven’t been lonely. But then again, having friends doesn’t mean you’re never lonely.
With Mel and Ian, things are different. Maybe it’s because we’re older, or because Mel and I live together and spend all our spare time at Ian’s place or the coffee shop. I’m not sure why, but I feel closer to them than I ever have to any of the girls I danced with, or my crew from middle and high school. I feel like I can tell them anything, but also that I don’t have to tell them anything--sometimes they just know. And that kind of friendship is priceless. I adore Ian for all of his feigned ferocity and Mel for her blunt advice. And I know they adore me, too.
If nothing else, college at Bainbridge has given me two of the best people I know.
And it’s also given me Ty.
Life with him is so good--it’s like a dream I don’t want to wake up from. And I’m the girl who’s used to nightmares.
So, when I wake up at Ty’s house to find I’ve slept for three solid hours, I’m feeling pretty good. I leave him to keep sleeping soundly while I hop in the shower. It takes no time to wash up, but I linger because he’s got one of those rainfall showerheads and I kind of love it. I stand beneath the spray, letting the water rinse me clean. Just when I’m feeling guilty about my water consumption and about to turn the handle and stop the spray, I hear the bathroom door open. I turn my head and watch my boyfriend--my gloriously naked boyfriend--walk in and step inside the shower.
“You’re not done, are you?” His voice is still gravelly from sleep, his scruff stubbly because he hasn’t shaved, and his eyes still sleepy.
“I’m all clean,” I tell him, a smile playing on my lips.
“Can I get you dirty?” he asks, resting one hand on my hip and the other on my ass, and I surrender to his kiss because I have no choice. It’s like my body responds involuntarily when Ty is around. I’m drawn to him like a magnet. His kiss carries an intensity I’ve never been the focus of before, not until I met Ty. When we’re together, especially like this, it’s like I’m his whole world and my pleasure is his goal. He drops a trail of kisses along my jaw and then pulls back.
“Turn around, sweetness.” I do as I’m told and my reward comes in the form of his warm solid body wrapped around me, my back nestled against his front. “Lift up,” he instructs and I kneel on the granite bench. I can feel his hard length pressing against my backside. “Put your hands on the wall, Phoebe,” he tells me, and I comply, eager for more of his touch, more of his commands.
As always, he doesn’t disappoint. With me up on the bench, his chin fits right into the groove of my shoulder, the perfect height for him to whisper filthy things in my ear. His left hand rests at my hip, keeping me steady as his right hand wraps around me, teasing the space between my legs. I widen my stance slightly and lean back into him, letting him take my weight. In so many ways, he carries me, comforts me, even in moments like this. I gasp as his fingers enter me, running along my seam and spreading my folds. God, the things this man can do with his hands.
I toss my head back and moan freely. No one can hear us in here, and even if they can, I’m past the point of caring.
“Fuck, Phoebe. That’s it. Open up, Phoebe. Let me in.” His words ignite something within me, empower me in ways I never imagined. His long, thick fingers thrust inside me as my hand covers his. I can hear the intake of his breath, feel his thick arousal at my back. It turns him on when I get like this and that just makes me want it even more. I rub my clit with my index finger as Ty fucks me with his hand.
“Holy fuck, Phee. Get it.”
“Yes,” I pant, increasing my rhythm to chase my orgasm.
“That feel good?”
“Yes! Oh, god…”
“Yea? You like to touch yourself while my fingers are inside you? Does it turn you on?”
“Yes, yes…” I’m probably not even capable of real words at this point. One hand still grips the wall as my other works me over in time with Ty’s ministrations.
