RISK & REWARD ✔️

19 | 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦

"Where are you going?" Slade's retreating to the living room; slowly, she turns to face me, brow furrowed.

"Couch," she mumbles, gesturing to the sofa. Her chin tilts down. "Why?"

"I..." I glance back at the bed. "You can take the bed, if you want. I'll take the couch."

"No." Slade vehemently refuses that offer. "I'm not gonna take your bed."

"I don't need it — wherever you're most comfortable, go."

"I'm fine with the couch."

"The bed's probably more comfortable."

"I like the couch." Slade narrows her eyes at me as she looks away. "There's a blanket 'n stuff."

She's reached the couch when I hurl a pillow at her head. How she does it, I don't know, but one hand flies back and she catches the thing without so much as looking, fingers clamping around its edge.

She pauses. Regards the pillow now in her hand. "Thanks."

She sounds flustered. She sounds embarrassed. I just gulp, take a breath, and reply with "of course."

I hear little more than a soft creak as Slade lands on the sofa.

We leave it at that for the night. Save for when I'm turning off my light, tucking myself beneath the blanket, and decide to whisper a little "goodnight, Slade" and receive no answer.

"Slade?" I sit up a little straighter, brow furrowed. She'd vanished behind the couch awhile ago; is she still here? Had she left already? Did something happen?

It's a long second before I hear a near-silent whuff of breath that makes me go quiet. The soft, whispery snoring is barely even audible, but it's there.

Slade's asleep. Slade's warm, safe, full, and asleep.

And a moment later, my eyes fall shut.

I wake up to silence. Pure silence.

I feel...rested. Very rested. I wake up, I stretch. There's a little edge of sunlight surrounding my blinds; I'm yawning as I swing out of bed and sluggishly traipse towards the window.

I feel like I shouldn't open them yet. Odd, but I ignore that little gut feeling and instead grab onto the blinds' rod, twisting the layered curtains flat and letting fresh golden sunlight stream into my apartment.

Slade!

That's why I didn't want to open them yet! Slade!

I whip around with wide, guilty eyes and a tirade of apologies halfway to my mouth, fully expecting to see her with a hand over her eyes and a groan already coming up from her chest. Instead, I'm met with an empty couch, a folded blanket, and no indication of anyone ever having been there. There's no indentation on the cushions, no damp spots on the arm from her sleeping there. I run my hand over the whole thing; it's cold, no semblance of warmth.

Slade was here. Right? Right? We had alfredo pasta last night. I glance over to the kitchen; no bowls, no pots, no pans.

I wrack my memory as I wake up. She was here. I swear.

The Texas Toast. Yes. We had garlic bread. I slapped her in the face with it, I swear; but when I check the garbage, I only find a fresh empty trash bag.

No Texas Toast box.

Um. Um. I look around. What else? What else?

She'd showered. Right. I race into the bathroom; all of the hooks are full, towels hung neatly off the wall. No sign of use.