Shh!

by Stacey Nash

  I pushed my chair back and jogged out of my room and downstairs. Keeping my grades up was getting harder all the time. What if I dropped below a pass? I pushed that thought away; it couldn’t happen. It wasn’t even a possibility.

  After a few laps around the house, I realised how aimless it was and ducked into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Some days it felt like tea made everything better. With the steaming cup in hand, I retreated back to my room.

  Checking my email had become an obsession, and it didn’t matter how often I looked there was always a message from Logan. I’d never admit it to him, but now that I was home for term break, I missed him like crazy. Our emails were to counter the texts which had slowed down since my mother started asking questions. Last thing I needed was for her to think I wanted to move out because of him. And god help me if she should cotton on and ask about him in particular. Logan was sure as hell the type of guy she wouldn’t approve of; with the long hair and vintage style he was more mess than neat and tidy. Plus I was certain he wasn’t what she’d call of pedigree. Not like Christian, whose parents were both surgeons.

  I logged into my email and sure enough, there was a message from my Stalker Boy.

  You been thinking about how good it would be to live with me and Jordan? Here are some points for the list I know you’re making:

  PROS

  1. I have a car = free ride to and from classes

  2. We have a spare room = your own space

  3. Jordan brings home free pizza

  4. I’m an excellent cook (when there’s no pizza)

  5. Living with two guys = inbuilt security team

  6. You’ll get to see me every day. I’m fun

  CONS

  1. Jordan eats all the food

  I smiled as I typed out a quick reply which pretty much amounted to no. Even though the thought of moving out appealed more than ever—I was certain Ella had stuffed that assignment up on purpose, regardless of what it meant for her own grades, and distancing myself from living right on top of people like that was tempting—I wasn’t moving in with Logan. That was a guaranteed friendship ruining recipe, not to mention the other problem I had.

  I opened up my Internet browser. Both of my parents were at work and it finally felt safe to research ‘masturbation while sleeping’ without the fear of someone walking in. I was a little concerned with what sort of images would pop up, and I didn’t want to have to explain it to them.

  With restless energy making my knees bounce, I punched the words into the search engine. I swear my insides quivered while waiting for the results to display, and it would have only been a few seconds, but it felt like the screen stayed blank for a full hour. The first few results were questions posted to forums. Things like, ‘I masturbate while I sleep. Is this normal?’ My gaze skimmed over those. I needed something more concrete and reliable. Near the bottom of the screen was an article titled, ‘Sexomnia: More Common Than You Might Think.’

  “Could be,” I mumbled to myself.

  As I read through the explanation, my chest tightened. It was exactly like me … well, like what I’d heard about me. I still wasn’t certain that was what was happening though. It seemed crazy that I could be doing that all night and have no memory of it. According to the webpage, sexomniacs have sex while they’re sleeping. They masturbate, fondle, initiate sex or just produce loud, sexual moaning sounds. My stomach felt as if it were about to empty itself on my lap. This was a real thing. It happened, and the people it happened to had absolutely no recollection.

  Holy cow.

  I didn’t want to keep reading. I’d read more than enough to make me feel like climbing under the covers to never come out again. Sure as heck, to never return to college, but it was like watching a horrific accident unfold, I had to know every tiny detail, so I kept reading. The sexomniac has no control over her nocturnal actions, leaving some feeling guilty, confused or ashamed over the behaviour. The more I read, the sicker I felt. This could be my reality. Christian could have been telling the truth, and so could have Ella.

  Women are more likely to masturbate and moan sexually, whereas men are more likely to fondle others and initiate sex. Well, thank the lord I was a woman. Imagine how bad it would be if I was sleeping around while I was sleeping. Then I’d be the college tramp.

  I clicked through website after website until I couldn’t take in anymore, then I shut the computer off and crawled onto my bed, wrapping my arms around my knees in a tight ball. It was all too much. Even though I was alone, I’d never felt more humiliated. Like every part of me had been exposed, and if I were ever to walk out in public again, I’d be completely naked. They’d all see me for what I was; a sex fiend.

  Heck, they already had.

  How could I go back to college knowing it was all true? There was absolutely no way I could move in with Logan and his brother.

  I needed to be alone.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Even though I wished I was back at college the whole time—horrifying as that thought was—the two-week break went pretty fast. Maybe it was the constant arguments with my parents, or maybe it was the emails from Logan, or it could have been the fact I slept like the dead knowing there was no chance anyone would hear me here, since my room was so secluded. Either way, it seemed like no time at all before I was sitting on the plane as it landed back in Armidale. I followed the line of people down the exit stairs and into the terminal. It was only a short flight from Sydney, but for some reason I felt exhausted. Possibly it was the thought of unpacking everything when I got back to college when it was nearing six p.m. already. No doubt the girls would be up for a long night of chatting too. Savvy had texted me this morning with warning of some ‘super exciting news’. Exam results still hadn’t come through, which was weird, but Savvy assured me hers weren’t in either, so I guessed I must have had my dates mixed up.

  I made my way to the baggage claim conveyor belt and waited for my luggage. Mine was always the last to come through. Hands covered my eyes from behind, and I sucked in a sharp breath of surprise. My heart beat hard and fast while my hands moved to pry long fingers away from my face.

  A deep chuckle brushed my ear.

  “Logan,” I squealed as I spun around and threw my arms around his neck. He gripped my waist, scooping me off the ground. Good lord I had missed him.

  “I missed you, Liv.”

  “So much that you came to the airport?”

  “Like I’d make you catch a cab.” He set me on my feet and warmth seeped through my chest.

  “That’s super nice of you.”

  Logan shrugged, and his gaze moved to the carousel. Oops, I’d forgotten all about my bag. I waited for a few minutes just to be sure, and thankfully it came along. The only item still on there.

  Logan grabbed my suitcase, leaving me with nothing more than the laptop I’d carried on as hand luggage. “This it?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He shot me a grin as we walked through the airport, but something felt a little off. His eyes weren’t quite right as he asked, “How was your day?”

  “Oh you know, track work on the train lines to the airport, so I had to take a bus which took twice as long. Lucky the plane was delayed though, then the guy sitting next to me …” I glanced around to make sure the man wasn’t close enough to hear “… was so huge I felt trapped between him and the window.” I chuckled, and when Logan didn’t I caught a glimpse of his frown. “But … I’m here, and you came to surprise me so it’s all good.”

  The cool air hit me like a blast of icy water when we exited the terminal. “It’s freezing here!”

  “Two weeks away and you’ve become acclimatised to warmer weather,” Logan teased.

  “Yeah, yeah. Where’s the car?”

  “This way.” He power-walked toward his red Corolla. When we reached it, he placed my bag in the back while I climbed in the passenger seat, still smiling. He’d actually come to pick me up. In the whole two years I’d been travelling
between home and here, no one had ever collected me at either airport. It felt kind of nice.

  Logan climbed in behind the wheel and inhaled sharply, like he was about to sneeze.

  “How’s Jordan?” I asked.

  “Barely keeping out of trouble.”

  Twilight had been and gone while I was disembarking, so by the time we drove to Oxley it was fully dark. Logan talked the whole way—telling me about work, and Jordan, and the massive cold snap they’d had just last week that I could feel in the air.

  “You moving out of this place or what?” Logan asked as we pulled up in the car park.

  “Not anytime soon, but it’s certainly on my mind. My parents said I need to stay on campus to keep my finger on the pulse.”

  “The pulse of what?”

  “Politics, sport, the social scene.”

  “For real?”

  “They’re socialites, Logan. This stuff is important to them.”

  “More important than their daughter’s happiness?”

  “I’m happy.” I sighed and climbed out of the Corolla.

  “Sometimes it doesn’t seem like it.” Logan swiped the back of his hand across his face. My nose was freezing too. Then he popped the trunk and lugged out my bag. I went to take it from him, but he shook his head and slammed the boot. I fished my keys out of my laptop bag as we traipsed into the ivy-covered brick courtyard. It was funny coming back after time away; it always felt like I’d never left. But that ivy always seemed to have claimed more of the brickwork. The courtyard was eerily quiet as we slipped through and up the stairs of my block.

  Logan sneezed.

  “You all right?” I asked him as I unlocked my door.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.” He placed my suitcase on the floor.

  “You want to keep me company while I unpack?” I don’t know why I’d felt so tired before; now I felt completely re-energised. Maybe it was a second wind.

  He kicked his shoes off, threw himself onto my bed, and lying on his back, tucked both hands under his head then crossed his ankles.

  “Make yourself right at home,” I teased.

  “Thanks, I already did.”

  Chuckling, I closed the door and as I unpacked could feel Logan watching me move around the room. I put clothes away, and since our rooms were used in the break to house other university guests, pulled all of my books and things that made the room mine out of my locked cupboard. Putting everything back in place always took the better part of a few hours, but the time moved quickly tonight with Logan’s company.

  A knock sounded on my door, and without thinking I crossed the space and pulled it open. A screen of Savvy’s blonde hair greeted me; her head turned to look down the far end of the hall. “Grow up,” she yelled then barrelled into my room, slamming the door shut with her foot.

  “Livia. I had the best break. You’ll never guess—” Her squeals were cut short when she spotted Logan sprawled out on my bed.

  Logan grinned at her. “Hi, Savannah.”

  “Logan …” She pulled her face into a weird smile-frown. “I can’t figure you two out.”

  Logan winked at her and shuffled over on the bed, toward the wall. Savvy didn’t sit in the space he’d made, though; instead she plonked herself in my swivel chair. I shifted Logan’s feet and dropped to the end of the bed. “What’s to figure out? We’re friends. Just like me and you, or me and Molly. Nothing at all like you and Dane.”

  Savvy raised an eyebrow as she glanced at Logan over my shoulder then shook her head. “Don’t go there.”

  “How was your break?” I asked her.

  “Complicated.” She glanced toward Logan.

  “Oh, do tell.”

  Logan’s phone rang and I felt the bed shuffle as he picked up. “Yeah … With Liv … now?” He blew out a long breath. “On my way.”

  Logan’s hands landed on my shoulders and he shifted me out of his way. “I gotta go.”

  “Oh.” A small pang of disappointment shot through me. I stood on tiptoe, fighting the urge to hug him, but I’d just told Savvy there was nothing between us, so instead I settled for saying, “Thanks for the lift.”

  As I watched him slip through the door, I turned my attention on my friend. “So?”

  “So, Dane—” Savvy’s phone started ringing too. “Geez McCheese.” She glanced at the screen, squealed, and shot out of my room. So much for her super exciting news.

  I set up my laptop in its usual spot on my desk. I wasn’t certain I had the sleep sex thing, but I still needed to know the stakes just in case. I hadn’t researched any further at home, but back at college it all seemed more real and urgent. I flipped the computer open and powered up. My leg jigged to its own rhythm under the desk, probably something to do with the erratic beat of my heart. Well, not so much erratic as fast. Nervous. Scared to know.

  This was it. Hopefully there’d be an answer. I brought up the Internet, my homepage landed on Google and I typed in ‘how to cure sexomnia.’

  Currently there are no approved, proven medications …

  Yadda yadda yadda.

  Another approach is to create a safe environment for the person affected by the condition. Sleep in a separate bedroom, lock doors, alarm the house, or even the room where the affected person sleeps in case they wander during the night.

  Well that got me nowhere fast. How about ‘how to treat sexomnia?’

  There is no known treatment, but it is possible to increase one’s awareness of the sleep sex episodes.

  More of the same. This didn’t seem to be geared toward people who self-gratified, but rather those who had sex with other people while asleep. Thank goodness I didn’t do that. I gave it one last try with a search on ‘how to stop sexomnia.’

  Reduce triggers such as alcohol intake, insomnia-inducing medication, and stress. Ensure the afflicted person is unable to enter other’s bedrooms.

  Holy buttercups. Was there nothing to help this thing I maybe had? I needed a cure-all silver bullet. One that would cut right into my traitorous body and make it normal.

  ****

  My first week back was stressful. I barely slept at night, lying awake until my body gave in from exhaustion and fell asleep without my consent. Then I’d wake each morning, groggy and struggling to get out of bed when the alarm sounded. I was petrified that I’d moan in my sleep, or worse.

  Then there was the college atmosphere; I was the dead opposite of the social person I’d always been. I pretty well hid in my room, not venturing to the dining hall or to hang out with friends in the courtyard. Things had died down a little, but I felt really uncomfortable—as if everyone was looking at me and thinking terrible thoughts that I knew were true. Savvy and Molly brought food up to my room every so often, but I basically lived off toast made in the tiny kitchen, and larger meals eaten on campus at lunchtime. I was more than okay with that.

  I hadn’t managed to see Ella yet, but I was still fuming about our result, and I had a feeling she was deliberately avoiding me. She had to be here—at college and in classes—so how I hadn’t seen her yet was a mystery.

  Logan hadn’t been in class on Monday. In fact, I hadn’t heard from him since he’d left my room on Sunday night. His silence worried me far more than it should have. I couldn’t get his messy hair and unshaven face, even his clapped-out car out of my mind. Logan wasn’t the sort of guy I should think about, regardless of how he made me feel. With my recent sexomnia discovery I shouldn’t be thinking about any guy. Period. But here I was, unable to shift him from my mind. The fact I’d texted and called and emailed and he hadn’t answered a darn one of them had me worried. It wasn’t like him at all. Our friendship was easy and he’d always responded quickly.

  I’d gone back through my memories of Sunday night a billion times, but couldn’t find anything I’d said or done that could have caused this silence. That was why Molly and I were in town on Friday, staking out his cafe. I was pretty sure there was something wrong with me, because sane people didn’t walk past
other people’s work places ten times. Especially when said person had been given the silent treatment by the other person for almost a week. Good thing I didn’t know where he lived.

  “Screw it,” Molly said. “We’re going in.”

  I took a few steps back. “Nah uh … we don’t need to. He’s probably hiding out the back or not even working.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Molly turned on her heel and marched right in. She didn’t take a seat, but strolled up to the counter with her shoulders back and head high, like she had every right to enquire about an employee. A lady behind the coffee machine talked to Molly while she worked. The conversation looked friendly enough until Molly glanced over her shoulder at me and the woman’s gaze followed, then she beckoned to me. They both turned back to their conversation.

  Darn it. I walked into the cafe and joined my friend. The lady met me with a smile. “Olivia?”

  Molly gestured toward the lady. “Kat here was just telling me that she sent Logan home sick on Tuesday.”

  “Poor kid looked like death warmed up. He’d come to work even if he was dying, that one.” She shook her head.

  Worry bloomed in my chest. Logan was sick, and no one had heard from him.

  “Thanks,” I said to her and reached for my phone as I started backing out of the shop. I had no time for the woman’s stories about Logan’s work ethic. I had to make sure he was okay. I flicked through my contacts and hit Logan’s number again. It went straight to voicemail, so I scrolled down to Savvy’s name and hit call. She picked up on the third ring.

  “Hey, girl.”

  “Savvy, have you got Dane’s number?”