Bittersweet Moments

18 | Oatmeal Cookies

18 | Oatmeal Cookies

Even with all the tossing and turning I did, I couldn't drift to sleep.

Jackson's breathing was evened beside me and his soft snores told me he was asleep. But how could he sleep so easily? The sounds of the raging party might be barely audible, and the room was calm but that didn't mean I could shut my eyes and fall asleep right away. I had willingly let go of Jackson's hand to try different positions and I had even taken another pillow to cuddle, but nothing was working.

It might be the tiramisu and M&M's talking, maybe the clothes, or I could just be overwhelmed of today's events – including my late night talks with this mallow monster.

Fed up, I sat up and turned the lampshade on. Jackson was sprawled on his side of the bed, limbs spread and mouth wide open, snoring lightly. How gross.

"Jackass," I poked his cheek – one time, two times, three times. "Wake up, jackass." I opted for the tip of his nose, moving my finger up and down. Poke. Poke. Poke.

"Yes, sweets?" he said tiredly, taking my finger and putting it down. He held my hand again, squeezing. It baffled me how he didn't sound the least bit annoyed.

"I can't sleep," I said bluntly. He rubbed his eyes and yawned to look at me. My eyes squinted at the crust at the corner of his eyes. "Tried everything. I can't sleep," I repeated.

I lowered myself back on the bed and turned my head to face him. Under the sheets, he was playing with my fingers carefully. "And you just had to wake me up?" he asked. And I merely nodded.

"You know, I read somewhere that you should count backwards to sleep. You know, instead of counting sheep," he advised.

"But how do you know which number to start with?" I wondered aloud, "What if you reach zero and you're still not asleep?"

"Then you start from ten thousand to make sure. That's a pretty big number."

I laid back for a while, taking in his advice. There were numerous time before in which my eyes refused to get heavy, and so I had tried origami, counting sheep, two hundred sleeping positions and milk. However, trying to fall asleep was just as difficult as staying awake. I wanted to wait for the time when I'd suddenly wake up and wonder what made me fall asleep.

"Ten thousand, nine-thousand nine hundred ninety-nine, nine-thousand nine hundred ninety-eight, nine thousand nine hundred ninety-seven . . . " I went on, more focused on getting the numbers right.

"Sweets, I didn't mean out loud."

"But Jackson," I complained irritatingly, "There's a lot of things going on in my mind. It'll drive me out of focus. There's this song that won't stop playing . . . "

"What song?" he asked curiously.

I hummed Beyoncé's Halo as it played inside my head like a broken record. There was one song just stuck there per day, and sometimes it drove me crazy during tests. Other times, those songs made me dance, so people would be surprised to see me suddenly moving to a beat.

It had brought me into many embarrassing situations.

"I have a song stuck in my head, too," Jackson said. Again, I was surprised he didn't wave me off and went back to sleep. Probably it was because he knew that I would just continue being frustrating until he had me asleep.

"What is it?" I asked. Maybe it could get rid of this earworm in my brain.

"I don't know what's it called," he answered, "But it's about closing the damn door."