Noelle is looking at me with such sadness and fear. “You were shaking and moaning like you were in pain. I just wanted to wake you up if you were having a nightmare.”
Moaning like I was in pain.Oh my God. A heat wave of embarrassment washes over me.
“Um, yeah, I was about to be eaten by a ravenous creature,” I say, my words choppy and breathy.
She plops back down and rests her head in her hand. “Well then, I am a hero. You’re welcome.”
I nervously chuckle. “Oh, of course. My hero. Is that how I should address you from now on?”
She looks off in the distance for a brief second before saying, “I think that’s a great idea.”
“I bet you do,” I murmur, still trying to relax my racing heart. “What time is it?”
“A little bit after six,” she says.
“Can we go back to sleep?” I ask, feeling the comfort of sleep creeping back into my mind.
She lays her head next to mine, facing me. “On one condition.”
“Which is?” I ask, fluttering my eyelids shut.
She nestles into my side and lays her arm across my waist, tucking her hand under my side. “I get to hold you like this.”
Warm pressure sits on my chest. “Deal,” I whisper as I lean into her further.
“Good night, love,” Noelle murmurs into my ear.
I wake up later that morning the same way I fell back asleep—wrapped in Noelle’s arms. It’s a pleasure I am getting much too accustomed to.
On the agenda today is going to volunteer at the local homeless shelter, cleaning, doing laundry, et cetera. I am excited to make a difference, however small it might be. I was very close to going to a shelter after my eighteenth birthday. The only reason I didn’t have to was because of Nic. I owe him more than I can ever repay. Guilt gnaws at my stomach from the thought. I am currently repaying him by spending the holidays with someone else. I feel like an asshole now, thanks to my never-ending thoughts.
Peeling myself away from Noelle, I climb out of bed and walk into the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth, and change my clothes.
My thoughts continue to travel at the speed of light, not letting up for even a second. And the feeling of awkwardness only seems to increase.
When I walk out of the bathroom, Noelle is sitting up with sleepy eyes, typing into her phone.
Her gaze drifts to me, and with a raspy voice, she says, “Good morning. How did you sleep?”
“I slept pretty well. You?” I ask, feeling awkward tension between us, most of it existing in my own head.
She stretches up and yawns. “Really good. I haven’t slept in late this much in years.”
Walking over to my nightstand, I tap the screen of my phone—8:42 a.m.
My face must reflect the confusion in my head because she says, “I usually wake up at five a.m.”
“No, thank you.” I sleep this late almost every day, if not later. Five a.m. sounds like actual torture.
She giggles and rolls over, facedown in the pillows.
I need to be alone, if only for a moment. I can’t think straight around her. If she is in the same room as me, she consumes every thought I have and every move I make. When did that happen? Was it always like this with her?
“I’ll meet you downstairs. I’m going to grab some cereal,” I tell her as I quickly walk out the door before she has a chance to respond.
The awkwardness between Noelle and me grows when she joins me for breakfast. I’m not as talkative as I usually am, and I avoid eye contact. It isn’t completely intentional, but it was easier to keep distance between us when I don’t meet her eyes.
I was surprised when she said she wasn’t going to be joining us today at the shelter. She has some errands to run and things to do. The sting of her absence burns hotter than expected as we load into Nancy’s BMW X5 and head to the shelter.
