I shook my head, trying to break free from the white-knuckled grip of exhaustion. “No. I’d rather stay up and talk to a real person.”
He chuckled beneath his breath but didn’t take a seat on the couch. “Are things so bad you’ve been talking to imaginary people?”
“You know what I mean—an adult. Someone who says more than ‘I hungee,’ and ‘I go potty.’ A real person who doesn’t require me to wipe their nose or butt, and who can follow a conversation for longer than fifteen seconds before running off to chase some magical unicorn.” The longer I talked, the whinier I sounded.
But Cash didn’t seem to mind. He finally fell onto the cushion next to me, laughing at our inside joke about Aria’s train of thought. She had run up to him on the beach one day, excited to tell him some story about the waves. Her hands moved a million miles a minute as she animatedly told him things neither of us could comprehend. As soon as she was done, he’d gotten maybe five words out before she turned around and ran back into the water, oblivious to the fact that Cash had been in the middle of a sentence. He’d turned to me, his expression utterly serious, and said, “Oh, look…a magical unicorn.”
“You’ll make friends. Give it time. Then you won’t need me here anymore.” He’d meant it as a joke, but for whatever reason, be it hormonal or lack of sleep—or quite possibly, the mental effects caused by unmitigated loneliness—it made me sad.
I automatically curled into his side and draped my arm across his stomach. And without a moment’s hesitation, Cash wrapped his arm around my shoulders, holding me close. Even though we didn’t sit like this often, there had been times over the last month and a half when I just needed the human contact. At first, he’d been the one who’d pull me into him, probably sensing my need for affection. Now, when I craved the comfort only his embrace could offer—usually when I was tired or sad—I was the one who’d initiate it. And every time, he’d put his arm around me, release a sigh, and relax, as if holding me close consoled him, too.
“How was work?” I asked, breathing in his scent.
“Boring.”
I leaned my head back, nestling my neck in the crook of his elbow, and grew lost in those endless pools of rich chocolate. I’d done this thousands of times before, yet this time felt different. The way he looked at me was different. His brows furrowed the slightest bit, as if I had something strange on my face. But it all changed when I reached up to graze the pad of my thumb over one eyebrow to clear away the tension. It appeared my touch had spurred him into action.
He lowered his face, bringing our lips so close I could feel his every breath. Yet he hesitated with the tip of his nose grazing mine. I cupped his cheek, and in the blink of an eye, he went for it. His mouth covered mine, and the realization caused me to freeze momentarily. I just sat there and stared at his eyelids until his lips parted, opening my mouth. His tongue on mine was all I needed to fall into this with him.
I closed my eyes and allowed myself to take everything in—his hand on my thigh, his mouth on mine, our tongues dancing together at the perfect pace. It did something to me, sparked something inside I’d never felt before. It gave me the courage to pull myself over him and straddle his hips, our chests pressed together. This was all new to me—not the action, but the sensation and my willingness. It was like experiencing the sand beneath my toes for the first time. Warm and inviting. Calming. Serene.
Until it wasn’t.
Cash grazed the side of my body with his hand before threading my hair through his fingers. His open palm cradled the back of my head, and just as I began to melt into him, he fisted his hand and gently pulled my hair tight against my scalp.
It was enough to remind me…of everything.
I gasped and pushed away, frantically climbing off his lap, but it wasn’t Cash in front of me. It wasn’t Cash’s face I saw. Anyone could’ve been sitting on the couch, and I wouldn’t have seen them. I wouldn’t have recognized anything other than the face of my nightmare.
Of his brown hair and green eyes, trimmed beard, pointy nose and chin.
As I retreated, the coffee table hit the backs of my legs, almost causing me to tumble to the ground. But I caught myself and scurried to the middle of the room. Cash started to say something behind me, but I couldn’t hear him, too lost in the dark and damp tunnel of my despair.
“Don’t you see what you do to me, Jade?” The way he said my name twisted my stomach.
“You make me weak, Jade.” It suffocated me.
“The things you make me do… You’re the worst kind of temptress, Jade.” Blinded me.
“Jade?” My name was louder, closer, fear woven between the letters and weighing heavily in the one syllable. Nothing like the voice in my head. “Jade? Talk to me. Please.” When I turned around, dark-brown eyes narrowed on me. His forehead, normally so relaxed and smooth, was now deeply creased with panic, brows knitted tightly together. “What happened? What’d I do?”
“I’m so sorry, Cash.” I took a step back. “I didn’t mean to do that. I think I was still half asleep. It’ll never happen again, I swear.”
“What are you talking about?”
I held up my hands to stave him off, ignoring the way my entire body shook. I hated how I couldn’t find my way back to the armor I naturally wore—the one set in place with smiles and jokes and confidence. I’d long since shed the weakness that had painted me like a canvas, but at this moment, it came back—like Carrie at prom, I was soaked in a bucket of pig’s blood. I wanted nothing more than to wash it off, disgusted by the way it clung to my skin. But with Cash in the room, the moisture of his mouth lingering on my lips, I couldn’t concentrate enough to eliminate the unyielding thoughts of my past.
“You’ve made it clear you don’t find me attractive. I shouldn’t have—”
“I never said that.” His anger had started to hover at the surface.
I needed to run, to close myself off in my room for just a few minutes to shove these emotions down, back to the place I’d kept them all these years. I needed control. But I couldn’t do that in front of him.
“Fine…you don’t think of me that way. You don’t want me like that. I get it. I never should’ve touched your face or curled into your side. I’m sorry.”
“Would you fucking stop talking for one goddamn minute?”
The harshness in his tone froze me in place. My lungs quit working, my heart stalled, and my feet were suddenly weighted with cement blocks, preventing me from moving. But my hands…they remained in the air, trembling like I stood on a glacier in the coldest part of the world, soaking wet with nothing on.
When he realized I had stopped, his posture deflated. All anger drained from his face when he said, “You didn’t do anything. I kissed you, Jade. Me. Why would you blame yourself or think this is somehow your fault?”
“Because I started it. I came onto you.”