*
So, for the next couple of weeks, we made a home for Bailey in a place that was once my living hell. In the back of my mind, I knew it was wrong; to give her this sense of hope when the future was so uncertain. But there was a spark in her eyes, one I hadn’t seen before, so I chose to ignore everything else.
I chose to ignore reality.
*
Bailey kept her eyes on mine as she jumped up and down on her new bed, her long dark hair flowing with the movements. She smiled, unforced and completely unrestricted and the sight of it alone did something strange to my heart. Something I couldn’t ignore.
“Nate,” she huffed out, her knees bent as she pushed off the mattress. “You should try it!”
I stood at the side of the bed and looked up at her. Then I shook my head, though admittedly, I was tempted. “Bai, I’m not jumping on the bed.”
She stopped suddenly, her eyes narrowing at me. “Have you ever jumped on a bed?”
“What?” I asked, completely confused.
She stepped closer, her hand curling around my neck. “I can’t imagine you as a kid,” she said, almost in a whisper. Her head tilted, her gaze locked on mine, pulling me deeper into the depths of her thoughts. She pressed her waist to my chest and looked down at me, tracing a finger down my cheek. “Or when I do, I just picture you to be sad. Were you a sad kid, Nate?”
Sighing, I placed my hands on her bare thighs, my thumb skimming the hem of my boxer shorts she was wearing. “I don’t really know,” I murmured. “Maybe. But I didn’t deserve to be sad. You did.”
Her sigh matched mine as she released me and dropped to her knees so we were eye to eye. “I noticed a lot when I lived on the streets,” she said.
My eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah?” I asked. She didn’t speak about it often, so when she did, I made sure to listen.
“People like to give advice where advice isn’t asked for, or needed. Like, if I say I’m tired, someone will say, ‘Go sleep.’ And the same if I say I’m hungry.” Her tone lowered. “‘Well, why don’t you go eat?’” She rolled her eyes. “If I could sleep, I would. If I could eat, I would. And we’re so competitive. I can’t say I’m hungry without someone telling me they’re hungrier, followed by a detailed explanation of how long it’s been since they’ve eaten. Life isn’t a contest for who suffers more. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be.”
I just stared, unable to look away.
She reared back and eyed me sideways. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I blinked, pulling me from my trance, and motioned toward the bed. “So, jumping on the bed, huh?”
Her smile widened. “I’m sure there are more fun things to do on a bed.”
After an initial moment of shock, I cleared my throat and took a step back. Bailey’s shoulders slumped, her gaze dropping. “Why do you do that?” she whispered.
Even though I knew the answer, still I asked, “Do what?”
“You always pull away whenever…”
I rubbed my hand across my jaw and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the rug she’d taken three hours to choose, now covering the concrete floor. “I just don’t want to do anything to pressure you. Physically, I mean.”
The bed dipped when she scooted closer to me, her soft hands wrapping around my arm, pulling and urging me to face her. She waited until I was looking at her before speaking. “I think about it, you know? What it would be like to be with you. To feel your weight on top of me, you between my legs, replacing the memory of what they did to me.” She glanced away. “I want to feel that, Nate. I want to feel you.”
I swallowed nervously, the sound loud and pathetic.
“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” she said, her final words mingling with her laughter. She didn’t give me a chance to respond before gripping my arm tighter and pulling me with her as she lay down on her back, her hair splayed on the pillow.
I leaned on my forearm, half my body covering hers, and within seconds, I was on her, my mouth covering hers, her hands in my hair and mine under her shirt. She pulled back to catch her breath. I kept my lips on her—from her mouth to her jaw, down to her neck. I moved a hand to her waist while my lips skimmed her collarbone, smiling against her skin when her fingers tightened in my hair, her body writhing beneath me. “Nate?” she breathed out.
I hummed a response, my lips busy making their way down her body while my hand moved higher, my thumb meeting her breast.
“Nate,” she repeated, her tone more urgent.
My eyes snapped to hers, my head lifting, everything inside me freezing. “Too far?” I asked.
“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not that.”
I pushed up on my elbow and gave her space to breathe. “Then what’s wrong?”
“I love my room,” she said.