“Is this a common occurrence?” I hear Caleb ask incredulously.
“Unfortunately, yes. It's getting worse. We used to be able to bring her out of these episodes, but lately she just...retreats into herself. She doesn't want our help. She'll just sit there, eyes vacant until she drifts off to sleep. Then, in the morning, she detaches herself from us. She’ll completely ignores us if we're in the same room and mentally shut out everything and everyone. We don't know how to help anymore,” Ace says with frustration.
A hint of shame sweeps through me at Ace's confession to Caleb. I just want to disappear, because I can’t stop the devastating effects the nightmare is having on me. My shaking has eased, and I feel that familiar drifting feeling taking over. Cold water is dumped on my head, startling me. I sputter as my hands reflexively come up to wipe my wet face.
“You use water to pull her out of the episode. Move back so I can get to her,” Caleb orders. Warm hands suddenly frame my face. “Look at me, Zoey.” My wet lashes lift. The look on his face has my emotional pain easing. There is no pity, worry, or fear in his eyes. All I see is self-assuredness. Caleb’s in full control mode. “How are you feeling?” he asks.
“You threw water at me.”
His lip quirks. “I did. I'd rather get you wet a different way, but tonight this'll do.”
My eyebrows furrow. “I thought we were platonic.”
“We are. Doesn't mean I can't remember how good it was or how you felt.”
Jeremy mutters something under his breath, and I look up to see that he's walking out of the bathroom.
My chin is captured in a firm hand, and Caleb's in my face again. “See me? I'm the only one that matters at the moment. You hungry?”
Hungry? I just had the worst nightmare on earth, and he wants to know if I'm hungry? I'm conscious of Ace still hovering, watching our exchange intently. I lick my lips, and I can still taste the vomit. I can't help but grimace.
“Mouthwash?” Caleb asks Ace.
A second later, a bottle of green minty mouthwash is pressed into my hand. I unscrew the top, and take a drink, swishing it in my mouth before I move on my knees to the toilet so I can spit it out. “Thanks,” I murmur. It dawns on me that the darkness is gone. Caleb chased it away by distracting me, and now I just feel drained.
Caleb studies me intently. “Better?”
My lips press together tightly, and I stare at him for a second before nodding.
“It's late. Ready to get some sleep? I'll stay with you and make sure the nightmares don't come back. Can I do that for you tonight?” he asks as he watches me and waits.
“I'm not a child,” I mumble.
“Trust me, Sparky, I don't see you as a child. However, what I do see is a young woman that just went through her own bout of hell, and I'm betting you could use some comfort.”
“Take my room. I'll crash on the couch,” Ace says quietly.
“You hear that? We get the kink room. Won't that be fun?”
My mouth falls open. “I... You...”
“I'm just teasin'. Up and at 'em, Sparky. Time to get some sleep,” he tells me, rising to his feet with one hand held out.
Caleb's presence during an episode throws me for a loop. He doesn't seem fazed at all by my craziness. His eyes tell me he's going to deal with me and it. It's his take charge attitude that has me reaching for his hand, allowing him to help me rise to my feet.
Caleb looks at Ace. “We'll talk tomorrow.”
“I'd like to go back to my place. Alone,” I say to them, still conscious of Caleb’s hand in mine. I try to tug my hand from his, but his grip is firm. Tomorrow I am going to be completely humiliated by tonight’s turn of events. Better to end it now than make things worse.
My announcement earns me a dismissive look from Caleb. “Not happening.”
I grimace. “You have no idea what kinds of STD's we might pick up from Ace's bed sheets.”
Ace barks out a laugh, relief easing across his features. “Thank the fuck she's back. And she's all yours,” he says, clapping Caleb on the shoulder before he exits the bathroom, leaving me all alone with Caleb.
“You look ready to drop. Let's go,” he says, urging me to leave the bathroom. I can’t help but hesitate. “Platonic, remember?” he reminds me. “Nothing is going to happen.”
It's as if I have no will power to resist this man. I find myself being led to Ace's bedroom, and before I can say anything, Caleb has me on the bed and he's spooning me from behind, still fully clothed. The tension leaves my body, and my eyelids feel heavy. “Caleb?”
“Hm?”
“I'm not talking about any of this with you tomorrow,” I mumble as his heat penetrates through my clothes and into my skin.
“That's fine.”
“I'm not talking about it with you. Ever.”
“Okay.”
“That's it?” I ask with confusion.
“That's it. Go to sleep, Sparky.”
~*~
Alex's warm hands graze my skin along my ribs as he eases my shirt off. I smile seductively at him as anticipation swirls within my belly. We just began having sex last week, and it’s good between us. Really, really good. His lips come back down to mine, and I wrap my legs around his waist as we kiss deeply. One of his hands slides up my ribcage, and then behind my back to deftly unsnap my bra. He gently pulls it off, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it should bother me just how experienced he is, but I shake it off.
As he presses me into my bed, I savor every touch, every caress. The feel of his heated skin against mine is exquisitely sensual. My hands slide down to the waist of his jeans, and I tug at the button.
My bedroom door opens. “Zoey, do you—oh, shit.”
Both Alex and I tense as Micah's voice interrupts us. Alex groans and drops his forehead down to the curve of my neck. I peer over Alex's shoulder and glare at Micah. “Go away!”
Emotions flicker over his face before he clears his throat awkwardly. “I think it's time for Alex to leave.”
I stare at him with dismay. “You can't be serious!”
“He's serious, and I respect it,” Alex murmurs as he reaches over and grabs the edge of my blanket, pushing it against my breasts as he eases away from me.
I clutch the fabric to my nakedness as I sit up. Alex rises from the bed, and he grabs his shirt off the floor and slips it on. He glances at me, his blue eyes slightly amused and apologetic. “Text me later.”
I nod and watch as he nods respectively to Micah before walking out of the room and leaving.
Micah runs a weary hand through his dark hair. “Put something on.”
My eyebrow arches. “Oh? Does my state of undress bother you? Good! You had no business just walking right in, Micah!”
“Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting you to be with Alex, about to have sex. Zoey, you guys have only been together for what—five weeks?”
“So!”
He walks into my room and motions to the bed. “May I?”
“Oh, so now you remember your manners?”
“Quit being a bitch. I'm doing my brotherly duty, so suck it up and deal.” He sits down, and his dark brown eyes turn serious. “You gave him your virginity.”
“Well, duh! Hello? Half naked here,” I retort.
Micah's mouth twists into a crooked smile. “I pity the man you marry. I wouldn't take on a woman with your sarcasm for anything.”
I hear Alex's truck start up outside, and I sigh with disappointment over how the afternoon has turned out. “Are you going to talk to me about safe sex, Micah? If so, don't bother. I'm not stupid.”
“Nah. It's not that. It's just...” He studies me. “He pressure you?”
“No, of course not. We both wanted it.”
“You should have waited, Zoey. Make sure Alex is the right one to give something so special to, you know?”
“He is the right one,” I insist.
“Okay. I hope so. And if he's not...just because you've had sex once, does
n't mean you have to put out with every guy you date, you hear me?” His eyes hold mine. “No one gets that part of you unless they've earned it and have shown you they are worthy of it.”
A snort escapes me. “When did you become such a romantic?”
He smiles. “Love does that sometimes. Ash is... I really like her. A lot,” he admits.
My eyes slowly open as I wake up, and the dream fades away with the last tendrils of sleep. There's a deep ache within the depths of my soul, but instead of curling up and giving into the agony, I try to hold on to the dream. I don't know why my subconscious picked that memory, but I slowly draw in a breath and wish fervently for a way to go back in time. I'd been so flippant that day, but Micah had simply wanted to tell me that everything we have, like one's body, is important when you choose to share it with someone.
A lump builds in my throat as I think of all the men I've slept with. All the meaningless sex that left me feeling hollow the following morning. Micah would be so disappointed in me. It's dreams like these, usually when I wake in the morning, that leave me floundering between misery and longing for reflections of the past. The dreams are like a double-sided blade. No matter which way you look at it, it hurts. Hurts to remember the good times, because there are no more of them...but yet I crave them sometimes. The knowledge that he'd loved me... Loved me enough that he'd given his life to save mine. Bitterness sweeps through me, and I fight back a soft sob.
There's movement behind me, and I stiffen up as I realize I'm not alone. Last night comes rushing back to me. The dream is wiped from my mind as I struggle with the knowledge that I'd lost it in front of not only Ace and Jeremy, but Caleb as well.
His body is still pressed against my back, his warm hand on my hip. “Want to talk?” he asks softly.
“What do you think?” I ask, my voice slightly raspy from sleep.
“Alright.” He carefully eases away from me, and I sit up, putting a hand to my aching head. The events from last night have given me a lovely headache this morning. I refuse to look at Caleb as I process where I am and how I'd ended up in Ace's room of all places. The need for distance is overpowering. I don't want to talk to any of them. I just want to be alone and deal with my stupid shit on my own.
With that last thought in mind, I rise to my feet and walk straight out of the bedroom without sparing a glance back at Caleb. As I come upon the living room, I catch sight of Ace asleep on the couch. My bare feet falter, and I grimace slightly.
He's sprawled on his back, one arm flung over his head while the other rests on his bare stomach. A sheet covers him from the hips down, but his bare feet stick out over the end of the couch. He doesn't look all that comfortable. I feel momentarily guilty for taking his bed while he slept out here.
Movement behind me has me tensing. Time to get a move on. Without a word to whoever entered the room—likely Caleb—I walk to the apartment door and open it as quietly as possible. When I turn to shut the door behind me, I look up and see Ace stirring on the couch, and Caleb is standing in the living room doorway, his eyes on me as he watches me leave.
I shut the door firmly and exhale slowly.
I have the uneasy feeling that I'm developing something with Caleb. I’m not sure what it is, but it scares me like nothing else has in the past three years.
Chapter Ten
I manage to pull my shit back together in only one day, versus two or three. This time it's easier. I think it has to do with the fact that Caleb had pulled me out of the dark before it could really take hold of me. On Thursday, I was tempted to go to my classes—to at least try to do something normal as I recovered from the episode I'd had. I'd almost gone, too. But then I thought of seeing the others on campus, and I'd chickened out. I ended up staying home all day. The guys didn't make it easy on me, though. They text messaged me stupid stuff, just to make sure I'd respond. I'd caved and given them what they wanted. If I ignored them, that would mean a knock on my door. I received one text message from Caleb that day. I'd expected something along the lines of him asking how I was feeling. What I got instead was: There are so many things you can do with the human mouth...why waste it on talking?
I'd burst out laughing at the unexpectedness of it. Another cheesy one-liner. When we started this non-friendship, I'd warned myself not to ever text message him back, or it'll give him the green light to start contacting me that way as well. I couldn't resist. I sent back, You need to add some variety to your sex life. Use the other hand. He hadn't replied back, and I was grateful for that.
~*~
On Friday, I decide it's time to go back to the land of the living. I'll have to face the guys sooner or later. Thankfully, they make it easy on me. When they see me on campus, they treat me like normal. Normal for Ace means getting tackled on the lawn in the quad.
Caleb doesn't go out of his way to single me out or approach me. Neither does Jeremy. They let the conversation flow, and when I take off for another class, none of them follow me. Which is why I agreed to come to this party tonight.
I'm not in the mood, though. I should be. We're at a condo overlooking Alamitos Beach. The party is wild, and the alcohol is the good stuff. Under normal circumstances, I'd be halfway tanked by now. Instead, I sip on my beer and watch everyone else work at getting themselves hammered.
Puzzlement sweeps through me as I stand near the wall, watching others dance and grind. Something is changing within me. It started that night we'd gone to the bar—when we went to go see that band play at Playground. It was as if my conversation with Ace had knocked some sense into me. I'm finding that I'm not all that interested in hooking up with random guys anymore. And lately, alcohol is still appealing to me, but it’s no longer an essential necessity.
I peer down at the beer bottle I’m holding, and my eyebrows draw together. Maybe I'm getting better? Is that it? I haven't seen Micah lately. And the episode after the nightmare wasn't as bad as it usually gets. A little voice in my head tells me I'm fooling myself. The only reason I hadn't gotten lost in the darkness was because of Caleb. I'm not better. He just happened to be there at the time. Next time, I'll be curled up on my bathroom floor, knees pulled up to my chest in agony and defeat. My mood is shifting, and I know if I keep going with this train of thought, I might just end up right where I fear.
I need some fresh air.
A few minutes later, I am walking across the sand towards the water. It's dark out, but the moon shines brightly across the lazy waves. The scent of the ocean and the slight breeze in the air has me feeling refreshed. My earlier moodiness dissipates, and I sit down on the sand about fifteen feet away from the breaking waves. After securing the beer bottle in the sand, I lean back on my hands and close my eyes, enjoying the odd sense of peace that I feel in this moment.
“You're normally the life of the party.” Caleb's voice floats over me, and I tense up slightly.
I hadn't expected anyone to follow me. I've made it clear that I want to do my own thing tonight. I just need a little space, but yet I want to be here to prove to them that I’m okay. That they don't have to worry over me. I glance up and find him standing above me, hands tucked into his jeans pockets as he peers down at me. “So are you,” I point out.
He shrugs. “Not in the mood tonight, I guess.”
“Me neither.”
Silence falls over us, and the only sound is the crashing of the waves. I wonder if he's going to bring up my nightmare. I remember telling him Wednesday night that I wouldn't talk about it with him, ever. He'd told me he'd respect that.
“Beautiful night,” he comments.
I turn and stare back at the waves. “Mmm.”
“Up for a swim?”
“I'm not skinny dipping with you,” I say dryly as I tilt my head and look up at him again.
He chuckles. “That's not exactly what I had in mind. Platonic non-friends, remember?”
My eyes narrow. “Did one of the guys send you out here?” Even thought they'd backed off, I can still tell that they're
watching me closely. This will last a few days until they are sure I'm over the worst of my mini-breakdown.
“No. Why?” Caleb asks as he pulls his hands out of his pockets and sits down next to me.
“Just wondering.” I study him for a long moment. The breeze is messing with his dark hair, and he looks relaxed as he stretches out his jean-clad legs. He rests his weight on his hands, like me, and gazes out at the ocean. I can barely see his expression in the moonlight, so I can't read his mood. I'd seen him earlier that evening, and he'd seemed to be his usual, light-hearted self.
I feel oddly awkward around him after what had gone down this week, and I struggle to make conversation. “You're from Tennessee, right? Why are you spending your sophomore year here and not there?” I expect him to answer me right away, but instead, he falls oddly silent. I sense this is a touchy subject, and I'm about to ask something else, something less personal, when he finally speaks up.
“I just needed a change of scenery. Do my own thing for a while.” He doesn't elaborate, and I am certainly not going to pry. “So design is your thing, eh?” he asks instead.
I shrug.
“You're the worst interior decorator I've ever met. Not that I've met many, seeing as I'm a guy and don't give a flyin' shit about frilly girly stuff—but you suck at it,” he muses as he flashes me a grin.
I'm startled by his comment, because it came out of left field. Literally out of nowhere. “How would you know if my tastes 'suck' as you so eloquently put it?”
“Your apartment says it all.”
This has me falling silent. So he had noticed the irony of my empty, undecorated apartment. “Haven't had time,” I say off-handedly.
“If you say so.”
“What about you? What's your plan?” I toss back as I lift a hand and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear before settling myself back in the sand again.
“I'm majoring in education. I want to be a counselor. A high school counselor, hopefully.”
I'm surprised by this news. I can't imagine him counseling young teenagers.
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