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I have a bedroom here.
With clothes in it.
By the time I’ve changed into a pair of flannel pants and a plain t-shirt, Marcella has snuggled herself into the bed with the pillow that was previously on the couch.
“Well,” I murmur, bracing a shoulder against the wall and folding my arms, “isn’t this a momentous occasion?”
Her brow knits, and she points to the foot of the bed. “Guard dogs sleep there.”
Chuckling, I make my way to her bedside.
She tugs the blankets up around her chin as she sinks down. “What are you doing?”
“Goodnight kiss?”
Her eyes search mine as she covers her mouth with the comforter. When her head shakes, I oblige, banishing myself to the other side of the bed. Firmly so. It’s a big bed, so there are roughly two feet of modest space between us.
It is nowhere near large enough to get swimming thoughts out of my head.
Everything in me burns to close the distance. To crush her to my chest. To inhale the scent of her hair with my every breath. I want to let her scald my lungs and tease my flesh with her barest movements.
Instead of doing that, though, I flatten my hand against the clean, cool sheets between us and stare at the canopy above when she uses the remote on her nightstand to turn off the main light.
The room goes pitch.
I hear her shift when she rolls over.
It kills me not knowing whether she’s faced toward or away from me.
“Marcella?”
“What?”
Toward, then. I close my eyes and let out a breath. “Nothing. Goodnight.”
Silent moments pass. Weariness creeps up on me. It has been a long day followed by a long evening. That town really was creepy in all kinds of ways, which was a precedent set well in advance. Why in the world did Marcella want to go at all if she can’t handle scary things to such an extent she’s asked me to stay with her tonight?
I could ask.
The worst she can do is tell me to shut up and go to sleep.
That’s one of the many beautiful things about Marcella. I don’t need to question anything with her. She’ll tell me what she’s thinking without sparing any frills. She is just genuinely simple to be with.
The sheets rustle, then her fingertips graze mine.
I latch onto her hand without any prompting, and murmur, “Yes, love?”
Her swallow echos in the darkness. “You…were too far away to properly protect me from the chainsaw murderer assuredly hiding under the bed right this second.”
I smile. “This is delightfully unexpected behavior on every front.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m demure and feminine and soft. All the time. Without any exceptions.”
She is crushing the life from my hand.
Not that I care.
She wriggles closer, and I don’t know how my heart is going to handle this for much longer.
