On the swing back, his forehead smacks against mine. It happens fast, so fast it’s a miracle that neither of us takes a chunk out of my tongue. We both fall back on the bed, a string of loud swears coming from each of us. My hand goes to my forehead and I’m shocked that it doesn’t come away covered in blood, it’s pounding sohard.
“Jesus fuck,” Silas groans. I feel him moving on the bed, but I don’t open my eyes yet. The Earth is still spinning off kilter. When I finally do, I see he’s moved over to the edge of the mattress, his feet planted on the floor. He’s holding his head in hishands.
“Are you okay?” he asks after a few more curses slipout.
“Yeah, I thinkso.”
“What the fuck just happened? Were you kissingme?”
I stare at him for a second, the cut of his rejection just as bad as the pain in my ribs and my head. “Uh, yeah. I’m sorry, okay? You seemed pretty into that idea at thetime.”
I see him turn toward me in the near dark. I can’t see his face in the shadows, but I can hear the confusion in his voice. “What are you talkingabout?”
“I’m talking about how I woke up to you humping the shit out of me. I—Sorry I went along withit.”
“I—what?” he says before he turns back and looks down at his crotch. I’m pretty sure his dick is still out of his boxers. “What the fuck?” he whispers, more to himself. “I—uh, I wasn’t awake. I was dreaming. Where did I…” He reaches over and turns on the bedside lamp. I’m thankful it’s not too bright, but bright enough for him to get a look at the puddle of jizz on the sheet still draped over my body. He reaches over and touches the biggest of the wet spots. “Jesus.”
“You were asleep?” I ask him. “That wholetime?”
He swallows before he looks me in the eye. “Yes.” He stands suddenly and starts tucking himself back into his shorts. I look away and scramble off the other side of thebed.
“Where do you keep your cleansheets?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he yanks the sheet off the bed and storms out of the room, leaving me standing there. The heat is rising up my face to meet my still throbbing forehead. I look over at Honeycrisp who must have fled over to her usual seat in the leather chair sometime during our nocturnal mating session. She glances up at me before she closes her eyes. She doesn’t give a shit about our pettyproblems.
Silas comes back a few minutes later with a clean sheet. He flings it out over the mattress and tucks it around the foot of bed. “There,” he says, not looking at me. I don’t bother trying to get another word out of him. I put myself out of my misery and climb under the fresh sheet. I roll on my side and face the dresser. I feel the mattress dip under his weight. The light cuts off and then the sheet moves a little. He’s under there with me, but I feel how far away heis.
We’re both quiet. My chest is killing me. I swallow and swallow again. I try not to breathe. I reach up and wipe a few tears out of the corners of my eyes. I swallow again and the tears stop. I hear Silas sigh. I hear and feel him shuffle. I try not to flinch when his hand comes down on myshoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he says for the fiftieth time. I don’t respond. I can’t. I don’t trust the sounds of my voice and I can’t stand the lies I’ll be forcing myself to tell. I pull the sheet up to my face and swallow again and let the cotton soak up my tears. He pulls his hand away. He’s snoring by the time my tears stop. I pray he’ll be gone in the morning before I wakeup.
Eight
Aloud crackof thunder wakes me up in the morning. Like Silas suggested it might, it’s pouring outside. The storm has rolled in. After last night, I don’t appreciate Mother Nature’s sense of humor ortiming.
I’m alone in bed. Well, alone with Honeycrisp and Hank who have climbed on the covers sometime after Silas left for his farm duties. When I go to slide out of bed I almost step on Joe, who is curled up in a ball on the floor beside me. I apologize for almost squishing him and step into thebathroom.
A hard look in the mirror confirms the way my face feels. Pathetic and dried out. My eyes are still burning and bloodshot, and that ache in my ribs is still there. I know I got a decent amount of sleep, but I don’t feel like I slept at all. Still, I spent the rest of the night in a deep dreamless sleep, and it appears Silas and I were able to make it to the next day without accidentally assaulting each other in anyway.
I use the bathroom, then wash and lotion my face. I don’t care what Silas has planned. I’m not going anywhere with him today. I’m too tired to pretend that I want to be around him, let alone that I decided to voluntarily date him. The kitchen served a perfectly fine work space. I’ll set up camp there for the day and catch up on work. I trick myself into thinking that there’s food in his fridge. I know I’ll have to call him or dig up a raincoat or a tarp and walk over to the cafe. I grab my phone off his dresser on my way to the kitchen. I stop when I see a note from Silas written on an old receipt underit.
There’sa breakfast burrito in the fridge and coffee on the counter. Back later. —S
Ilookat the note for a few seconds. I’m still mad at him. I have every right to be, but I can still appreciate food and coffee. When I see him again I’ll thank him for the food and beverages and then go back to pretending last night never happened. I walk into the kitchen and find a new one cup coffee maker on the counter with some instant coffee pods, two different flavored creamers and box of raw sugar packets. There's a note on the cabinetabove.
Mugs. Take yourpick.
Iopenthe cabinet and find it jam packed with mugs. More mugs than should be shoved in a cabinet. I'm afraid to touch one because I know all five hundred of them will come tumbling out and smack me in the head or smash on the floor. I stand up on my tip toes and carefully grab an oversized mug from Starbucks Edinburgh. Under that there's a mug that says U-Hawaii Football. I look a little closer and it appears that all the mugs are emblazoned with something Scotland or New York Yankees. Further inspection turns up a New York Jets mug. I carefully pull that one out of the madness and rinse itout.
I look at my phone as my coffee brews. I’ve missed over a thousand messages in the chat app. No way I’m going through all that. Instead I call Brook. I might catch her before she goes intocourt.
“Hey! I was just about to text you,” shesays.
“Where are you?” I can hear the sounds of the city around her and suddenly I’m so homesick. The McInroy farm is great and all, but I miss the noise and the crush ofpeople.
“Outside of thecourthouse.”
“Is it rainingthere?”