Chapter Thirty-One
So apparently I’m boring… Awesome.
Weston
I wasn’t sure what was more disconcerting, the fact that in the span of a few hours Kiersten had fallen asleep twice on me, or the fact that I’d been kissing her the last time she’d done it.
Clearly she hadn’t been sleeping well.
She’d asked me about keeping time — our time. Apparently, she liked that. I couldn’t lie to myself — I loved that idea. It made everything seem more permanent when it was anything but that.
I shifted away from her and looked up at my ceiling. The same ceiling I’d been staring at all my life.
A soft sigh escaped Kiersten’s mouth as she twisted in her sleep and then threw her arm over my chest, stealing the breath from my body. Damn, but that girl could pack a punch if she wanted.
“Wes…” she mumbled, her head twisting from side to side. In an instant I was pulling her close to me again. I wasn’t sure if it was guilt eating me alive or my sickness, really it was a toss up at that point. I was making her fall harder and it wasn’t like I was being anything but myself. I wasn’t lying, I wasn’t trying to get her to sleep with me, at least not in a sexual way — it was the first time in my life I was actually being real.
Great timing, I know.
“Wes.” Her lips found my bare shoulder. She may as well have just stabbed me, I felt that kiss, those lips, her wet tongue all the way up and down my body like a shot of heroin to my system. I’d never done drugs, but I could imagine that this was what it felt like.
Kiersten’s leg lifted and then went between mine.
Shit.
No way out of that one. I was going to have to suffer an entire night with the girl plastered against me and gain no relief in the process. Okay, so maybe I knew exactly what a heroin addict felt like. Hell, I wanted to take a hit, I wanted to drink her in, but I knew, if I made that choice for her — she’d end up hating me. I don’t care what girls say, no innocent chick goes into a relationship thinking it’s just a onetime thing unless they’re sluts. They expect forever.
The one thing I knew I couldn’t give.
“Sleep.” I kissed her forehead again and held onto her as tight as I could.
****
“Wake up, sunshine, time for turkey,” I whispered into Kiersten’s hair. She looked like a really hot version of Cousin It. Her red hair was wrapped all around my pillow, my arm, my face, her face; it was like its own person with its own zip code and inability to stay in its personal space. And I loved the hell out of it. I parted the red locks and found an eye.
“There you are.”
The eye narrowed.
“So, still not a morning person?” I asked.
Didn’t think it was possible but the eye narrowed more until I was convinced it was closed. I pulled the curtain of hair farther back. Two eyes. Score! She wasn’t blind.
“Why are you staring at me as if you just discovered gravity?”
“I did.” I smirked.
“This better be good.”
“You.”
“Huh?”
I sighed. “Still too early for my innuendos and all around amazing pick up lines, huh?” I swatted her with the pillow. “Get up, Lamb, Wolf’s hungry and I’ve had to pee for like five hours.”
“So why didn’t you go?”
“Because a ninja masquerading as my girlfriend was holding me hostage against my own bed all night.” I nodded to her legs as they intertwined with mine. “Not to mention the fact that her viselike grip was so damn cute I just stayed put.”
“Wes.” She jolted up. “I’m sorry! I’m normally not a—”
“Clinger?” I offered.
There went that eye narrowing again. I wondered if I was losing points by actually being a morning person. I hadn’t taken any drugs yet, mainly because I physically couldn’t move, so I wanted to soak up the happiness while I still wanted to talk to a person rather than my porcelain toilet.
“Don’t you dare start calling me clinger.” She moaned and covered her face with her hands. “Sorry for pinning you to the bed all night.”
I smirked and licked my lips. “Yeah, there are worse ways to go.”
Like the doctor using you as is own version of Operation. Only when he touches the edges you bleed out and your heart stops, no do-overs, no second tries.
“You okay?” Kiersten touched my shoulder. I hadn’t realized I’d zoned out. Clearly the fact that I just got handed my football jersey and was another few weeks closer to surgery was messing with me, not to mention the fact that I kind of wanted to live.
Every reason keeping my feet firmly planted on earth was living and breathing next to me, damn it.
“Stellar,” I sang. “But I still have to use the bathroom so if you could just untangle your long sexy legs from mine, I’d appreciate it. Actually, I’d appreciate it more if you just let me have my way with—”
An exasperated sigh exploded from Kiersten’s lips.
“The toilet,” I finished. “That’s all I ask.”
“Fine.” She laughed and moved fully away from me, probably the most alone and lost I’d felt in years. Irritating to think that one person had that much power over my attitude.
“Why don’t you go get ready in the other bathroom, and we’ll meet downstairs in a bit for some awesome breakfast?”
“Okay.” Kiersten slowly shuffled across the large rug that covered the hardwood floors in my room. “Wes?” She turned.
I stopped, my hand on the doorknob to my connecting bathroom. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.” A bright blush stained her cheeks. “For last night. For chasing the monsters away…”
“Anytime. It’s kind of my job to protect you.”
“A job sounds like you’re forced.”
“Nah,” I argued. “Saying it’s my job just means it’s my identity in a way. You know how people go, ‘Hey, I’m Rick. I’m a janitor.’” I smiled. “Now I can say, hey I’m Weston, and I kill monsters on behalf of my very sexy girlfriend so she can sleep at night.”
“Lame.” Her laugh hit me in all the right and wrong places, making the idea of using the restroom a moot point. I wanted to stay pinned, preferably beneath her.
“Nah, heroic.” I argued. “Now, go get ready so we can eat cinnamon rolls.”
Apparently that’s all I needed to say. Her eyes widened, and then she was running down the hall. Good to know she was a fan of breakfast. That could have been a deal breaker right there. I hated it when chicks refused to eat the most important meal of the day. As if they didn’t realize how much it helped. I knew, mainly because my pills ripped my insides to shreds if I didn’t eat.
I closed and locked the door behind me and opened the cupboard under the sink. Fifteen bottles all with my name on them. Hell, I almost wished I was a druggy. You know, one of those guys who stole oxy and morphine to get high.
Right. I never even touched my pain pills. They numbed my senses so much that it wasn’t worth it, and it wasn’t like I was in any pain. My doc said it would help me with the anxiety.
Clearly he’d never heard of exercise. All oxy did was turn me into one of those zombies from Walking Dead, only I was pretty sure I looked more haggard and scary.
I popped the lid off of my first pill bottle, dropped the pill into my hand, and shook my head. It was a powerful little bitch. I actually nicknamed it bitch because it was so small that you’d think it wouldn’t do much damage. Wrong. The first time I took it, I was sick for a week straight. I became so dehydrated from puking I had to go to the hospital. Now I know how to take it. I had to take it with my anti-nausea pill, which worked only sixty percent of the time, and then pop my giant ass white pill — the special chemo pill that’s made specifically for me.
I had five more pills to take, but I needed to eat first. I quickly jumped in the shower, brushed my teeth, and was dressed, all within fifteen minutes.
I checked my watch. Kiersten was probably just getting ready. I didn’t want her to see me taking any pills — I didn’t feel right lying to her face when she asked me why I was taking an entire medicine cabinet full of rainbow-colored chemicals, so I stuffed them in my pocket and told myself not to forget to take them after breakfast.
If I did… well, I’d be absolutely no fun for the remainder of break, not to mention it just gave that cranky tumor one more day without a defense, meaning it would grow… and the idea that its tentacles were slowly choking parts of my heart was a mental picture I could really do without.