It Can't Be Over (Book 2 - Immortalfox)

Chapter 22

James POV:

Arms were wrapped tightly around me when I felt sleep leave my mind. It was a hazy and calm feeling I woke to, fuzzy and unclear. But warmth surrounded me, from the one side of my head against the pillow to the bottom of my clothed feet; to my bundled figure in the sheets and duvet, as well as two small yet powerfully demanding arms that engulfed me. I normally woke in the opposite position, my arms hugging that special someone of mine to my own body, using them as a teddy bear or favorite child’s toy.

My throat felt congested with the use of my voice throughout the whole remainder of last night. After I had gotten home, I had spoke a few words with Seamus, then told him that I needed to edit and record. Always was the expression of split-second sadness to this news on his face, but he knew that I was as busy as him—perhaps even less, what with the amount of content he recorded on a daily basis. Nevertheless, when I said I had to record, I wouldn’t take any complaints for an answer.

As my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room I slept in, I began to register my surroundings. The desk that I used for recording sat right across from me, all monitors off, though I could still hear the gentle humming from the computer below the desk. It created more warmth in the room, and as I realized this, I wanted more and more desperately to leave the bed and walk around. For some reason, I felt disgusting laying here.

I blinked carefully at the window, the black curtains blocking any sunlight from entering. But the curtains were thin, and if no sunlight was flooding in now, then outside it must be dark. Mentally, I used this as my excuse to untangle myself from the person I slept beside.

I pulled the sheets off of me gently, still being courteous to the lump of a body beside me.

I took small steps to the window, pulling at the shirt I slept in that had become sideways and awkward during sleep.

I peaked out the blinds, and instead of seeing the sun just peaking over the trees I saw a gray and black sky, the clouds passing overhead at a relatively slow pace. Rain pattered the window, quietly and gently, though the sky looked much angrier and displeased to make one believe that the rain it produced would be harsh and unforgiving.

I closed the curtain, immediate depression settling in. I let out an angered sigh, rubbing at my jaw, and I turned back towards the bed and saw blonde, curled hair facing me. Seamus must have turned once I left the bed, because I wasn’t able to see his peaceful face.

Thoughts of how terrible I was entered my mind, but, as I was trying to do, I shoved them away to the deepest pits of my mind where they should and would remain.

I felt a chill, so I grabbed my sweatshirt that lied on the back of my chair and pulled it over my head, exiting the room.

It was lighter in the hall, and I wondered why. There were no windows in the hallway, so why should it be lighter out here than in my room? As I looked around, though, I saw the lamp on the opposite end of the hallway still on. I grumbled something I didn’t even recognize and trudged towards it, clicking it off.

Then, I realized that I was at the end of the hallway, and behind the door in front of me was a sleeping Russian—one who I could only imagine slept with a peaceful expression and looked irresistible. Without another thought, I swung open the door, and to my dismay, the prince I imagined slept in his bed like a wild animal.

He lied on his stomach, his face pressed on one side into the pillow he slept in—he would probably wake up with a crick in his neck. One leg was completely out of the covers, hanging freely in the cool air of his room, and the other was buried somewhere in the covers, which were turned this way and that, pulled all to one side and yanked from underneath the mattress where they were tucked under to make sure something like the way his blankets were arranged now to not happen.