Waiting For Us [COMPLETED]

chapter 19 - things i like

Talia:

There's something heavy pushing down on the side of my body.

I open my eyes hesitantly, worried that whatever is pressing against me will disappear at any sudden movement. There's a hand. Attached to that hand is an arm—a muscular one, if I must say. And that arm belongs to Grayson, who is fast asleep beside me.

His breathing is low and steady, and every few seconds his chest gently puffs out against my back as he inhales air. Grayson's second arm, his left one, snakes beneath my pillows, under my neck, and out the other side of the bed. His right arm, the one that startled me awake just now, lazily hangs over my waist and his hand clutches the comforter in a fist. My body nestles into his, and his partially covers mine. He is close. Dangerously close.

I hate myself for liking it.

There of course comes the question of just how awkward this is going to be when he wakes up. When I offered him the spot next to my bed, I never would have expected us to hold each other like this. Instead of asking if he was a night-kicker, I should have asked him if he was a night-cuddler. Technically, this also makes me a night-cuddler, so we're both guilty of the crime.

Again, I'm not totally complaining. Except for the fact that I now kind of need to use the bathroom. Well, shit. No pun intended.

There's two options. One: just push Grayson off of me and bolt to the bathroom. Or two: carefully lift his heavy arm back to his body and tip-toe to the bathroom, hoping to not wake him in the process. The second seems best. Then he can at least sleep a little while longer.

After planning my next few moves, I take my right hand and gently grasp it around his wrist to lift his arm up and over my body. Grayson's arm is two inches in the air before his body shifts suddenly. His hand, now unattached from the comforter, slides into my own. My hand has become the comforter: an object to cling onto while he sleeps.

All the thoughts of me escaping from the bed disappear as he holds my hand. It's a new level of intimate that ascends the one from a few minutes ago. I worry that my rapid heartbeat will now wake Grayson up, rather than my original plan.

Despite the change of plans, I smile to myself. I wonder if Grayson was one of those babies that would cling to your finger for dear life, worried that you would run away. Based on the way he is holding my hand, as if he knew I was trying to escape, I would guess yes.

I gently shake off Grayson's hand from mine and slowly lift his arm back to his side of bed. It's halfway there when he finally decides it's a good time to wake up, his body rustling in the bed and his arm snatching back to where is belongs. I lean up on my forearm and turn my head to look at Grayson.