if only

chapter 10

december

I came to slowly the next morning. I was cuddled down under Billie's big duvet, and she was on top of me.

Like, all the way on top of me. Not a halfway body snuggle. Her entire weight was settled on top of mine.

I couldn't tell how long we'd laid like that, but the numbness in my hands told me it'd been quite a while. I sighed contentedly beneath her, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and listening to her deep breaths.

We were both still fully clothed. We'd spent the night innocently comforting one another. I'd held her while she cried, and she listened while I described my downward spiral and Mags' wake up call. This information only seemed to upset her more; she'd been wracked with guilt for weeks, on top of all the confusion she felt in regards to our relationship, or lack thereof.

Our conversation helped a little, and I gained some small insight as to how she was feeling, but not enough. She didn't express a need to make it work, or any feelings she had for me. She was still skirting around things.

Finally, I had to pee, so I squirmed a bit to wake her. She didn't move an inch, so I murmured her name in her ear, brushed my hand across her messy hair, and finally shook her shoulders gently.

"Mmm," she hummed, and pressed her lips to my throat, eyes still shut tightly. I gasped quietly with pleasure at the sensation, and her eyes flew open. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

She rolled off of me abruptly, taking her warmth and the covers with her, so I shivered and had to pee more than ever. Jumping up too quickly, I felt lightheaded, and swayed on the spot.

"You okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah." And I hurried off, slightly embarrassed, to use her attached bathroom.

When I was done, I examined all the little bottles on her counter as I washed my hands. Pretty containers; a face wash and matching lotion, various pieces of every day makeup, though I knew the full collection must lay hidden in the many cabinets beneath the sink.

I dried my hands and touched the little bottles, craving a connection with a piece of her. I picked up one of her perfume bottles and inhaled deeply, and instantly felt transported back to holding her in my arms that first night.

"Shawn?" A tiny knock at the door.

I pulled it open and let her in. "Sorry, was checking your stuff out."

She gave me a weird look. "Oh. Can I pee?"

"Oh," I blinked, startled at her sudden change in demeanor. "Yeah. Sorry?"

She smiled weakly and moved so I could leave.

I went back into the room and sat tentatively on the bed. All the comfortability I'd felt when I awoke that morning was slowly dissipating, being replaced with confusion and insecurity. I just wanted to get in her head.

Was this what it felt like to date Billie? An open book in the beginning, then slowly closing as time went on? She'd been so warm, so sweet, so open to talking and getting to know me in that first week. Then, wham... the book slammed shut.

When she came out of the bathroom, she sat on the end of the bed, a good 3 feet away from me. I eyed her, puzzled.

"I haven't taken any of them," she murmured quietly. She wouldn't look me in the eye. "They want me to, but I don't want to."

I stared at her. "I think... I've missed something."

Her head snapped up to eye me. "You said... you were looking at my stuff."