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Rebecca woke with a start, her breath caught in her throat. It felt like she'd been submerged underwater and couldn't get enough air into her lungs. Her hands clutched the dark brown blanket, the fabric bunching in her fists as a bead of sweat trickled down her back, sending a shiver through her spine.
"It was just a bad dream," she whispered into the dark, the words barely audible over her own frantic breathing.
But even to her, the reassurance felt hollow. These nightmares were like the world's worst alarm clock—except they went off every single time she tried to sleep.
Her eyes wandered over to the tiny alarm clock on her nightstand. The green digits glowed faintly, throwing some weak shadows on the walls. It was only 11:49 PM. She groaned, burying her face in her hands. The night was just getting started, and the thought of another sleepless night of tossing and turning made her want to smash something bad.
"Why did I send Betty away?" she grumbled, frustration oozing out of her. But she knew why. Betty had already done so much—like, seriously, she'd sacrificed so many nights just to hang out and help her through the nightmares.
If there was an Olympics for annoying your friends with your emotional baggage — she'd have easily outdone the synchronised swimming and trampoline events combined! Rebecca couldn't bring herself to ask for even more.
With a groan, she rubbed her eyes and tossed the blanket aside, feet hitting the freezing floor. She fumbled around for her slippers, finally finding them and sliding them on. She stepped out of the room, her fluffy slippers squeaking on the tiled floor as she made her way to the kitchen.
The kitchen was dark, save for the faint glow from the refrigerator's display panel. Rebecca skipped the light switch and made her way to the fridge, the cool air greeting her as she opened the door. She snatched a cold bottle of water and took a swig. It was refreshing, but as she wiped her mouth, that uneasy feeling still wouldn't leave her.
Her eyes scanned the kitchen—everything was annoyingly perfect, just like she'd left it. But the silence was deafening, like the house was mocking her for being so damn tidy and so damn alone. Every little creak had her jumping out of her skin. Guess that's what happens when your OCD is the only thing keeping you company.
She'd just read that the WHO called loneliness a global health crisis, and honestly, she felt it. The pandemic left her in a weird limbo, and she couldn't shake off the memories—especially him.
Betty had called her out over their last phone call, "Girl, you need to get back in the dating game."
Rebecca had sighed, feeling the weight of her friend's words. "I'm not ready."
YOU ARE READING
MIDNIGHT LUST (18+): TRS 1
Romance*Warning: It's dirty, it's dominant, and it's unapologetically hot. The story contains mature content. Read at your own discretion.* Rebecca's life was about to get a hell of a lot messier than she ever imagined. When a big, bad robber storms into h...
