Bad feelings are one part of what sucks about this world. Good feelings are the other. Because the good stuff is what can get taken from you, the rug that gets pulled out from under you. A warming feeling that, once it's gone, leaves you out in the...
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M E G A N
The soft ticking of the clock echoes in the corner of the quiet room. That and the humming sound continuously coming from the air vent, in the corner.
The boy and I lie on the floor of my empty room, in the same spot we've been in all night long.
Nothing but one pillow and a small, thin blanket to share amongst both of our naked bodies. I don't really mind, though, as his warmth was enough to keep me comfortable through the first full night if sleep I've had in several days.
In between the thumping of Carl's heartbeat, the still noise of the quiet house is all I can hear.
After a slow exhale, the boy's smooth chest begins to vibrate, with a groggy whisper. "Megan, you awake?"
"Barely." I hum, nuzzling my head farther into his neck. My hand placement moves as well, as I stretch and my arm laces itself around his waist.
"Me too." The boy whispers into my hair, before using his hand to push it behind my ear. He cranes his neck and leaves a gentle kiss on the top of my ear.
I hum, before slowly turning over onto my stomach. I place my hand underneath my chin, resting them both on his chest. My groggy eyes flick up towards Carl's tired, bandageless, face. "How'd you sleep?"
"Like a rock." A cheeky grin crosses his face, as he lowers his hands to my waist and hoists me upward a bit. "Because I had the best blanket in the world."
"Shut up." I tease, shifting my body around in his grip. The both of us let out a few chuckles. "Is that all I am to you, Carl? A warm body?"
"No." The boy shakes his head, his smile dropping from his face, as his words ring out prominently. "Of course not."
His eagerness to deflect my joke instills a curiosity inside me, one that I so-rarely get the chance to have. Carl's always been somewhat of an open book, and I'm usually the one with a clump of sticky pages that can never be separated.
"Then—what am I?" I suck in a breath, a nervous smile twitching at the corners of my lips. "Who am I?To you?"
A confused look crosses the boy's face.
"You're—uh, my Megan?"
As we lie here with our naked legs entwined, I feel almost stupid for asking such an obvious question. His indirect, confusing response immediately embarrasses me, as my wide eyes gape at a shy Carl, having no idea what his words mean.
