by Nessa Morgan
Zephyr nods. He kicks off his shoes and climbs over me, lying on my bed, against the wall. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” he tells me with a kiss to the forehead as he pulls me closer. I rest my head on his chest, letting his arms pull me as close as we can get. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers into my hair. “I’ll stay right here until you kick me out.”
He smoothes down my hair, letting me cry into his shirt while he whispers things to me that I can’t understand between my sobs. Soon, they taper out and we’re left in a thick silence. I briefly try to process what I saw, what was happening to me in my head. I can’t help but wonder if he dragged the little girl—or me, I should say—from the closet.
I can’t tell Zephyr what I saw. I can’t tell him when I don’t even know myself.
I can say I was the little girl. Of that, I’m certain.
Is the reason why I’m alive today because I was sleeping, hiding myself away, in my closet? But what about all the scars covering my body, the stab wounds, how could I have received those if I was hiding?
And the one thing I want to know, did he find me, like in my dream? Did he end up ripping me from my safe place?
I don’t know.
I don’t want to know.
***
Sooner than I realize, Zephyr taps me on the shoulder, waking me up—I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep, but it was so calming sleeping with Zephyr here. I hope this doesn’t become a habit, I’m not sure what my aunt would do if she saw this. It’s time for him to leave for his game if he wants to be on time. The ride to the stadium is quiet, I’m still waking up and I don’t have anything to say, I also don’t want to ruin his focus. He likes to keep his head in the game.
He parks the car and we both start walking toward the locker rooms. With a sly look to me, he throws an arm over my shoulder, tugging me closer to him and kissing my cheek. So much for him keeping his head in the game.
It’s as if what happened earlier was a dream itself, like he didn’t have to rescue me from a nightmare… again. If only my life were that simple.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asks, slowing our pace before he gets to the Home locker room. I snuggle further into his side, not happy with our impromptu separation, mostly because he’s warm and I can see my breath whenever I speak.
“I’ll be fine—I’m not going to sleep any time soon,” I reassure him. “I’ll be great,” I lie, forcing the confidence. I still don’t like football and would rather be anywhere else, but this means a lot to him, my being here. What he likes, I’ll try to like for him.
He smiles at me, leaning closer with a destination I hope we both share. His lips are almost to mine when we hear, “You two are so cute.”
Kennie.
Perfect timing.
“We try,” I call out, watching her walk toward us, her hand linking her to her boyfriend, Duke. “Hey, Duke,” I call. He waves to me with his free hand. He’s dressed significantly warmer than I am and I see my mistake in only one sweatshirt. I should be wearing my entire closet to keep me warm.
“Hey, man,” Zephyr says when they get closer. They do their complicated handshake thing I still don’t understand while Kennie and I stand there awkwardly.
“I forgot you two know each other,” Kennie says. Sometimes, she fits the blonde stereotype perfectly; I just want to pat her on the head.
Duke looks to her, a little taken aback. “I only graduated last year, babe,” Duke tells her.
“We also hung out during Homecoming, Kennie,” I remind her. Recognition covers her face, as does a light blush. She’s going to need a minute to recover, here. “How’s school?” I ask Duke, remembering that he attends Eastern Washington University over near Spokane.
“Going good,” he says with a nod. “I decided to pay my girl a visit this weekend before the snow clogs up the pass.”
“Isn’t he great?” Kennie beams, clutching onto her boyfriend’s arm with a gloved hand. It finally got cold enough, for Alexia’s standards, that the squad now wears their sweats and jackets over their uniform. At least Kennie won’t freeze tonight. That makes one of us, really.
“He’s something,” I respond, smiling.
Kennie sticks out her tongue. I respond the same before we start laughing.
A car door slams behind us and, instinctively, I turn to see who’s joining the party. I spot the blonde hair before I make the connection.
Ryder.
He walks across the courtyard, his duffel bag in hand, as he aims straight for the locker room door. He only looks forward, never bothering to acknowledge us, like we’re invisible. It’s a good thing, too, because I’d point out his still-bruised eye. Now it’s a lovely shade of vomit green. It suits him; sometimes I think the other needs to match.
It’s a great image in my mind.
“Hey,” Duke yells to him, leaving Kennie to go talk to the bruised blonde as he passes. Duke catches up, following Ryder through the door as they start a conversation.
“I forgot about him,” I mutter, shaking where I stand from the cold. It’d be so easier if Ryder were just gone. Like, far, far away. I should tell him Pluto’s nice this time of year. He can take Alexia.
Zephyr spots the shudder, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders, encasing me in more warmth.
“Again, so adorable,” Kennie confirms, her smile wide.
Zephyr playfully rolls his eyes, kissing me quickly before he follows through the door, leaving me to talk with Kennie.
“Sorry about him,” Kennie begins, mentioning her boyfriend. “He’s friends with Ryder,” she explains.
“Why should I care about that?” I ask, following her to the stands as she begins to stretch and warm up, doing a few flips to get her blood flowing. “Ryder can be friends with whomever he wants, who am I to stop him?” I cross my arms along my chest.
Kennie nods, seeming to understand. That’s all I can ask from her.
We talk more before she needs to head to the field. Duke walks out from the locker room and joins me in the bleachers. I lazily watch the game with my head resting in my hand, continuously tugging down the knit beanie I threw on at the last minute before leaving my house while Duke tries to explain the game to me. It’s colder than it was during the Homecoming game. I don’t care—or I really shouldn’t care—I’m here to support Zephyr, and this is enough to make me happy even if the game does bore me and my limbs freeze off. I have Duke here to help me know when the play is in our favor. We hit a few touchdowns, but I don’t join in the celebration.
Until it’s Zephyr making the touchdown.
When he runs into the end zone, I’m the first one jumping up and down, tugging on Duke, and screaming the loudest. No one is more proud than I am. Even when he’s pathetically dancing.
That’s my guy!
Halftime rolls around and I’m talking to Kennie, mocking Alexia—who makes it abundantly clear she’s back together with Ryder, like I’d care. During the second half, I text Harley, waiting for the game to end.
When it does end—thank God! We won, by the way—I’m the first one down the stairs, waiting by the locker room door for Zephyr to emerge and take me home. Also, I need to show my love that he got a touchdown. Kennie and Duke wait with me, keeping me company when Ryder passes with Alexia attached to him at the lips as if she were a fish sucking algae from the wall of a fish tank. Such a lovely sight if you ask me.
My boyfriend—I love saying that—walks out, dropping his bag on the ground to wrap me in a tight hug. I barrel into him.
“I’ll see you both later,” Kennie says with a giggle as she and her boyfriend leave us.
Zephyr lifts me from the ground, a wide smile on his face when he takes a good look at me.
“What’s this about?” I ask, holding on for dear life to make sure I don’t fall, or worse, he drops me. He’s not that klutzy, I just prefer the ground to air most of the time.
Nothing, just you,” he tells me. Zephyr lowers me
to the ground slowly, holding onto me to make sure I don’t fall, steadying me before we start walking to his car. It sounds like overkill, but the guy is a foot taller than I am. I’m a tiny girl. One false move, one wrong fall, and I’m in crutches. “Does Aunt Hil work tonight?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “I’m home alone again, tonight.” I exaggerate a pout. Honestly, I don’t mind it. It happens a lot, I’m used to it. She’s a busy woman.
“No you’re not,” he states, matter-of-factly, closing the door behind me after I slide into the passenger seat. What an awkward way to leave me, dude.
I think for a moment as he rounds the car. He can’t possibly mean that he’ll spend the night. For one thing, isn’t it a bit soon for that? I’m uncomfortable with the idea of Zephyr staying the entire night. We’ve done it before, but not in a while, not since we were kids, and Jamie was always there.
Zephyr slides into the car, inserting the key into the ignition. “You don’t have to do that,” I tell him as he starts the car.
“You remember that night when I woke you up from that nightmare that had you screaming bloody murder?” How could I forget, dude? He shoots a pointed glare in my direction.
“Of course,” I mutter quietly, lowering my gaze. I try not to think about it, it’s too embarrassing.
“I would’ve stayed with you the entire night then had you not kicked me out.” He flicks the turn signal, going left. The tiny click, click, click the only sound in the car. “Even if we weren’t what we are, I’d stay with you. So I’ll be over at your house tonight.” He shoots me a smile.
And he was.
We sat on my bed, trying to figure out what we were going to do. I’m not sure if I could let him, you know… sleep in my bed. Earlier was one thing, I didn’t fully intend to fall asleep even though I did, but through the entire night? I don’t know about that.
“How are we going to do this?” I ask nervously, folding my hands together in my lap.
“I’m not exactly sure,” he answers.
We’re sitting farther apart than usual. There’s at least two feet of space between us. It seems when we start thinking about sleeping in the same bed, even the same room—and I’ll admit that I’m thinking about it right now even though it scares the shit out of me—we freak ourselves out.
“I mean, you could… my bed, but then… and how… and you…” I stutter, trailing off, too scared to finish my thought. I think my palms are sweating.
Zephyr’s expression changes, his eyes light up and he gets an idea. “I’ve got it.” He stands and leaves my room, leaving the door open and me wondering what he’s doing.
“Where’re you going?” I call after him, listening to him open and close various doors in the hallway. Random…
He walks back in, carrying a large box I vaguely remember from my childhood. He drops it in the center of the room and pops it open. All I see is black.
“I remembered this thing from the nights you, Jamie, and me would camp out in your living room because no one trusted us to actually pitch a tent in the backyard.” I remember that.
Back when we were kids, Hilary had the brilliant idea for us to go camping. When that dream died—all adults became too busy—we wanted to camp in the backyard and pretend that we were some place different and cool. Molly and my aunt wouldn’t go for that so we decided to camp out in the living room. My aunt even bough an air mattress to make it seem authentic. All we really did was watch television and ate junk food, it wasn’t the greatest camping experience we wanted, but it’d do. When it was time for bed, Jamie and I would commandeer the air mattress, making Zephyr sleep on the couch.
Good times.
I nod, finally, watching him yank the thick rubber thing from the box. “That should work then,” I tell him.
“My thoughts exactly,” he remarks, setting up the mattress right next to my bed and letting the air pump do its thing, albeit slowly.
“I haven’t thanked you for this yet,” I tell him after we’ve fallen into a comfortable silence, both of us watching the air mattress slowly inflate. I forgot how slow the thing is. At this rate, we should be able to sleep in an hour or two.
“No need to thank me.” He wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer to him. I believe this is my favorite thing in the world.
“I do,” I tell him, “have to thank you.” I lean my head against his shoulder. “You have to deal with your crazy, psycho girlfriend with serious mental issues; I have plenty to thank you for, Zephyr.”
I feel Zephyr’s body shake as he laughs. He kisses the top of my head. “Your hair smells great,” he tells me, ignoring everything I just said which only makes me smile.
“You smell great,” I counter, mumbling into his shirt, smelling the woodsy scent of his soap.
I look up, smiling widely. He returns the smile, leaning down to kiss me lightly on the lips, the familiar chaste kiss we’ve grown used to. I’d say that’s better, given that we’re in my room, on my bed. Don’t want to start anything heated, do we?
After the mattress inflates—forty-five minutes minutes later, we get dressed for bed, me in my room, him in the hallway—I told him he could change in the bathroom like a normal person, but he wouldn’t listen to me. I click off the overhead light, leaving my lamp on briefly, the yellow light illuminating the odd scene in my room.
I haven’t had a sleepover in years.
“Good night, Jo,” Zephyr tells me as he relaxes into the mattress, his every move making a weird rubber creak. I can’t help but giggle.
“Night,” I reply, quickly adding, “I’ll leave the window open,” in a light whisper.
“Me too.”
A light breeze blows through the window, ruffling the floral drapes hanging open. It brushes across my face, filling the room with the scent of rain. It’s going to rain soon.
***
Air blows through the window, the one I left open last night—something I’ve grown used to with Zephyr on the other side of the alley. The feeling of air streaming through the window cools me, calms me, and I take a deep breath, savoring a night of real sleep, a night free of nightmares. Oh, sweet baby Jesus, there’s nothing I love more than that.
One shift of my hand—which dangles over the edge of the bed—and I can feel Zephyr’s hand in mine, tightening when I move, refusing to release me for anything.
I smile, happy to be where I am.
“What’s going on here?” asks a voice, cutting into my subconscious, startling me fully awake. The voice sounds confused, worried, a little angry, and…
Hilary?
Happy? Maybe I spoke too soon. There’s no way my aunt could be happy with finding a boy in my room. At least he’s not in my bed.
I slowly peel my eyes open, hoping that, perhaps, I imagined the voice. That’s possible. I’m crazy. I could be having a mental breakdown or something—this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve hoped for that. But when my eyes land on the familiar green pair staring back at me, I know I’m sane, and that’s upsetting. Standing in the doorway, her exhaustion apparent as she holds her hands on her hips, she’s staring at me… and at Zephyr. Oops.
“Uh,” I start, leaning up on my elbows and letting Zephyr’s hand drop back to the air mattress. “Sleeping?” I respond, plastering a smile on my face as my cheeks begin to heat in a blush.
“I can see that.” The sound makes Zephyr stir. He rolls over, moaning with sleepiness, until his eyes land on the pair staring at him. She forces a tight-lipped smile, her chapped-lips a thin like. “Why is Zephyr, your boyfriend, sleeping on an air mattress on your floor when I suspect—I mean, I don’t know—he has a very nice bed in his own room”—she points to the window—“over there?”
I’m slightly stunned, just staring at her standing in my doorway. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t expect any of this. She makes it seem like we were going at it like rabbits on that air mattress when we really just slept through the night, and boy, what a good sleep that was. Then she seems too conf
used to understand what she’s looking at it.
It’s as if she doesn’t know me at all.
“She couldn’t sleep?” Zephyr blurts out. Questioning it isn’t helping the situation and my hand itches to smack him, lightly, in the back of the head. He sits up, his hair a tangled mess, the noise from the bed enveloping the room. It’s a nice distraction. He runs a hand through his unruly mop of hair on the top of his head.
Hilary laughs quietly, a slight shake to her head as she looks to us. “I assume you couldn’t sleep either, being on that thing.” Her green eyes dart to me then back to Zephyr.
“I can’t complain,” Zephyr mutters, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Do your parents know you’re over here?”
“The appropriate answer for that would be yes…” he drags out, the familiar smirk tugging at his lips. He couldn’t feign innocence if he tried.
“And that would be a no,” she replies, matter-of-fact. “There was, uh… no sex—”
I interrupt her loudly with a whine of, “God, Aunt Hil!”
“—was there?”
I narrow my eyes, shooting imaginary daggers at her, hoping they metaphorically pierce her heart and she feels it. How more embarrassing could she be? God!
“That would also be no.” She nods curtly. “I’m just going to go, you know, before I say something worse.”
You do that!
Zephyr chuckles, watching Hilary walk down the hall while trying to fix the mess on his head. He turns to me. “Did you sleep okay?” he asks, resting his elbow on the edge of my bed once he’s untangled his bed-head.
“For the most part,” I reply. I lightly touch his elbow, feeling the warmth of his skin. What I said makes him laugh. I place my hands on his arms. “How about you?” That mattress must’ve been a literal pain in the ass. It was when I’d sleep on it.
His eyes dart to the air mattress. “Uh… sure,” he lies. It’s cute.
That makes me laugh.
I lie back down, snuggling back into the warmth of my sheets. I hear the rubber crunch as Zephyr lies back.