She glares at me.
I boop her on the nose and it softens the grumpy look on her face. “Do you have nightmares often?”
She doesn’t answer right away, but then she says, “Lately, yeah. Usually I’m unphased, but they’re just so incessant. And they feel soreal.”
I nod thoughtfully in the dark. “Stress?”
“I’m not stressed.” She’s still adamant about this, but we both know she’s lying. It’s even more obvious now.
“Anxiety, then?”
She’s reluctant, but she finally admits, “Maybe a little.”
“Well. I can offer you two things: a movie marathon for the rest of the night that we'll both regret in the morning or something to help you sleep.”
She doesn’t hesitate to accept the offer of the latter and it makes me wonder exactlyhow muchher anxiety is affecting her lately. From the outside looking in, she seems so calm andcollected. If I wasn’t aware of the things she’s dealing with mentally right now, I probably wouldn’t have considered that her nightmare was anything but just that—a nightmare.
We’d all probably feel much better if all the arrests were made and her dad’s case closed, putting the lingering fear that’s plagued our town firmly in the past.
Lucky for her, I’m hyper focused on everything about her at this point, and am ready and willing to force her to let me help in any way I can.
I reluctantly pull away from her and she flops back onto the couch, staring blankly into space as I head for the stairs to grab my emergency anxiety meds from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom attached to my bedroom. I peek in at Sienna on my way back down, and when I reach the bottom step I question whether or not it’s the best idea to so casually give someone else my prescription medication.
I immediately push the thought aside when Quinn comes back into view because there are not many other things in the world I want more right now than to erase that troubled look from her face.
I walk past her and into the kitchen to grab water for her to take the medicine with. I fill a glass from the dispenser in the fridge and make my way back to her. She gives me a weak but grateful smile as she takes the pill from my outstretched hand, not even bothering to ask what it is before swallowing it down with a gulp.
The trust she’s placed in me does things to my insides. It’s overwhelming in the best way.
I won’t take it for granted.
“I was thinking I should fix the guest room up for you.” I take the seat next to her again.
She doesn’t say anything, just lets her head fall back and releases a small hum of what I assume is agreement.
I explain anyway. “I can’t imagine this will be the only time you need to sleep over and the couch is not ideal.”
The thought flits into my mind that the room that shares a wall with mine is also not ideal because she belongs with me.
In my bed.
“You could sleep in there now, but no one has been in there in ages.”Or we could skip these bullshit formalities and go straight to the part where you’re in my bed.
What the hell am I thinking? I need to get a grip. It’s not fair to her, and this line of thought just makes everything more complicated than it needs to be.
“I’m fine here.”
I nod and heave myself off the couch again, taking my place on the other side away from the dizzying feel of her body heat so close to me.
We both lie back down, and I’m more tense now than before. The room is filled with an uneven silence, broken by the sound of her irregular breathing. I wonder if she’s still awake staring at the ceiling like I am, or if she’s fallen back asleep.
“You’re a good friend, Jack.” She yawns and squirms around, trying to get comfortable.
Her words hang in the air. We are more than just boss and employee or even student and professor. We are friends. Our connection went beyond mere passing interactions after our second time sharing the same space. Seeing her with Sienna has already planted the seed that there is something more to her—more tous. And with her giving a name to it, it solidifies and takes root in my mind, becoming a tangible and undeniable classification.
I was certainly a good friend to her when I helped Adrian fall face first into the corner of a melamine desk a few days ago.
Though, some may have considered me doing such a thing might have been for purely selfish reasons; the skin under hisright eye splitbeautifully,and the look on his face when I told him what I’d do if he so much as breathed in Quinn’s direction again?Priceless.
