Big Shot | ✓

29 | con job

I wasn't used to waking up in a bed that wasn't mine.

My body woke up on its own late into the morning, and the first thing I noticed was the stark silence. I slept with a noise machine, so waking up to the quiet was a little jarring. But as I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and took in my surroundings, little pieces from last night came flooding back to me. There were about a dozen discarded Reese's Cups wrappers on the bedside table, and the TV flickered faintly on the far wall - Are you still watching The Great British Bake-Off?

Then there was his body, warm and sturdy behind me, enveloping me in his sweet scent as his arm was draped over my torso. My instinct was to slide further back into him, as if my body could actually melt into his. I felt his chest press gently against my back every time he inhaled and exhaled, followed by the soft caress of his breath on my cheek. For a moment I lost myself counting his breaths, steady and almost reassuring.

Reid kept his word when we'd gotten back to his apartment - to a certain degree. We didn't have sex. We didn't even make out. But we laid in bed and watched my favorite silly little baking show at my request (which he got surprisingly very into) and fell asleep in each other's arms after clearing out almost an entire Halloween bag of Reese's.

But somehow, doing all that might have been worse. That wasn't a thing people who were just hooking up did. That was a thing people who shared a bed every night did.

I started to move slightly to see if I could unwind myself from him without waking him, and somehow the shift in weight on the mattress had me sliding back further into his body instead. Something firm pressed into the back of my thigh, and my body knew without having to give it much thought as a bundle of nerves warmed in the pit of my stomach.

There was a steel cage match going on inside my body. In one corner was Logic, and in the other was Emotion. Logic was bigger and stronger, and she had a nasty right hook that could come without warning. But Emotion was wiley and fast, dodging punches left and right and bouncing around on her toes, ready to evade in a split second.

I didn't really know much about MMA or boxing or any kind of fighting, but I knew when one person got knocked out, the match was over. Watching the little digital clock on Reid's bedside table blink 10:32 AM back at me was effectively the knockout punch for Logic. It wasn't Halloween anymore. It was November 1st, and I had to get out of Reid's apartment...and his bed.

I made another attempt to shift my body away from him ever so slightly, and a sleepy groan escaped his lips. "Five more minutes."

I chuckled to myself and carefully, slowly slid off of the side of the bed, almost comically melting onto his carpeted floor, careful not to make a sound. When I stood up, I realized I was still in his shirt, and nothing else.

I fired off a text to Bree to come pick me up before tip-toeing around to pick up the scattered pieces of my Halloween costume with shaky hands. I kept telling myself it was just a hangover combined with a sugar-high crash. Bree replied and said she'd be there in a few minutes, and I let out a sigh of relief.

When I finally allowed myself to steal a glance back at Reid, he'd rolled over onto his back, his arm hanging off the side of the bed and his hair flicked across his forehead like a solar flare. I had to look away, because the longer I looked the more my willpower to leave dwindled.

"Don't go."

And his voice pulled me back to him all the same, like a gossamer thread he'd inadvertently tied to me. He'd rolled over onto his side again to face me, his eyes still closed but his hand twitching, willing the rest of his body awake.

I heaved out a sigh. "I have to, Reid."

He sat up slowly with a soft groan, raking his hair back off of his forehead and exposing the healing wound at the bridge of his nose. I think that was how the inside of me felt, bruised and ripped opened and desperate to heal itself.