Show Me That I'm Better | Post Malone

VIII

It was the question she knew was coming, had been waiting for since she undressed.

Is that what happened... to your body?

She was sure he hadn't meant it to come off as harshly as she'd taken it, the rational side of her mind trying to reassure her that it was concern she heard in his voice rather than repulsion.

It had been such a reflex, she just wanted those clothes off and to get them both clean, she hadn't stopped to think about the ramifications. She'd gone into autopilot and had barely even registered how bare they were until his reaction.

She took a deep, steadying breath whilst her fingers worked a loose thread of cotton on the blanket that her eyes had chosen to lock onto whilst she decided how to answer his question.

Perhaps he won't remember, she thought, perhaps his fever is high enough that tomorrow this could all be one weird dream to him and whatever he had learnt tonight will be forgotten. After everything that's happened tonight she was sure it was one that he would happily lose from his memory anyway.

"Um... no, not really." Her eyes remained firm on the thread in her fingers. He'd already seen so much more of her tonight than she cared to show, she refused to meet his eyes to reveal any more.

It was silent long enough that she thought maybe she had gotten away with her answer. Maybe he was going to accept the wishy washy, non-answer she'd given him.

As if she's ever be that lucky.

The sudden heat from his hand gently enveloped hers, lacing her nervous fingers with his.  For every anxious reaction she'd given him tonight, he'd found the perfect counterpart, holding her reassuringly without suffocating or imposing. His actions gentle enough to not be forceful but rather subtly encouraging her to lower her guard further.

"He had worked for me. He had been my security guard for almost a year."
She spoke softly, just over a whisper, as her eyes remained locked to the safety of the wispy hairs on his chest.
"He'd kind of become like a big brother to me, I'd met his family, his mum had come on a trip to Greece with us."

She knew she couldn't say anymore, couldn't recount any more about that night. The gallons of tears she'd refused to shed for this man currently felt like they were being held back by a piece of tissue paper, tearing steadily by the second.

Austin's left arm suddenly squeezing between her waist and the mattress as he pulled her in closer and wrapped her in his arms. He held her tight to his chest, his steady breathing grounding her, a gesture she'd done for him not long before. She didn't bother trying to fend off the slow stream of tears that trickled down her nose.

"I'm sorry" he whispered into her hair.

She had forgotten how nice it could feel to be held so tightly by strong arms. She couldn't recall the last time it had actually felt like this, felt safe rather than domineering, and wondered if it ever had felt like this before. For every part of her that wanted to pull back was an even larger part that just wanted to enjoy this feeling, knowing it was going to be temporary and would disappear again after tonight.

Delilah was trying not to think of tomorrow, of the implications that tonight would have on their dynamic moving forward. He had been so awkward around her earlier tonight and whilst some of that could have been attributed to him being unwell, she was worried how they could be around Brad and Gia as if none of this had happened.

"Austin" her voice was a gentle breathe, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere she found herself in.

"Mmm" the soft vibration of his chest resonated against her.