Invisible

Invisible Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Pinchy

(Olivia)

A sharp pain that stabs at me yanks me out of sleep. Disoriented, I reach for my lamp only to have my hand fall through empty air. Another crack makes me wince, but forces my senses to wake up. That’s when I realize the thrashing body next to me is Mason. Responding takes a moment as I try to figure out how I ended up in bed with him. Memory flashes back quickly and a second later I am trying desperately to wake him up.

Getting my hands past his flailing arms is a challenge. I get whacked a few more times before getting a hold on his shoulders. His arms, though, are still trying to fend off the nightmare. Letting go of his shoulders for a moment, I grab one arm and pin it to his side. It takes a feat of near-acrobatic talent to keep one arm pinned with my knee while I throw my other leg across his chest to catch the other arm before he hurts one of us.

Straddling his chest as I keep his arms in check, I grip his shoulders again and try to shake him awake as gently as I can. “Mason!” I whisper harshly.

The last thing I want to do is wake up Mom. She’ll realize I’m still wearing my clothes from earlier and it will be a quick leap from that to figuring out I’ve been in here all night. I have enough to deal with right now without getting another lecture.

“Mason, wake up!”

A particularly violent bout of thrashing nearly knocks me off of him. I have to practically throw myself on top of his body to keep myself from being tossed onto the floor. Either the weight of me landing on him heavily, or my voice calling out right next to his ear, snaps him out of his nightmare.

His eyes fly wide in a panic. “Ollie!” he calls out.

His chest is heaving as he tries to clamber out of bed. I realize he hasn’t even noticed me sprawled on top of him and try to slip off before he dumps me on the ground. I get one knee back on the bed before he realizes it’s me squashing him and stops moving. Neither of us says or does anything for a full minute. I’m not totally sure he’s awake. I’m not sure what he’s waiting for.

The feel of his hands suddenly gripping my waist makes me jump, especially when his fingers slide up my body as he attempts to lift me up. I feel like a ragdoll as he pushes me gently back to sitting. He stops when I am back to my original position from when I first tried to restrain him, one knee on either side of his chest. Only this time, instead of my hands trying to shake him awake, they are held in his. All he can do for a moment is stare at me.

“You’re safe,” he whispers in relief.

“Is that what your nightmare was about?”

Mason’s shoulders roll forward, dropping his head. “They took you, snuck up behind you at night and just took you. I couldn’t stop them.”

“No one took me,” I reassure him. “I’m not stupid enough to walk around at night alone, anyway. Not with Sentinels hanging around.”

I smile when Mason chuckles. He falls back against his pillow, still holding onto my hands. “Are you okay?” I ask.

He shakes his head all around, neither a yes nor a no. “I wish I could make these nightmares stop,” he groans.

“I wish I could make them stop too, especially since I seem to take the brunt of the flailing and thrashing.”

Mason uncovers his eyes looking pained. “Did I hit you?”

Shaking my head, I pat his cheek playfully. “I was just kidding. I’m fine. Just a few nudges here and there.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, but I smile and refuse to let him worry about it. Getting knocked around a bit won’t keep me from rescuing him from those horrible images. I slide my foot off the bed to the floor and shift my weight so I can get off of Mason’s chest. I’m not all that eager to leave, but he grabs my wrist with a look of panic in his eyes.

“Where are you going?”

I can’t deny the shot of warmth that shoots through me. Placing my free hand on his chest gently, I smile. “I’m not going anywhere. I just realized I’m sleeping in my jeans.”

“So?” He gestures at his legs, now uncovered since the blankets are dangling off the end of the bed in a tangled mess. “I am too.”

“Yeah,” I argue, “but guys’ jeans are all loose and comfy. Mine are tight and pinchy.”

“Pinchy?”

Laughing, I push off of him. “Yes, pinchy. They’re really uncomfortable to sleep in.”

I turn and start toward my room. I only get a few steps away before Mason crowds in front of me. I don’t realize he’s holding anything until he presses it toward me. I stare down at the plaid, drawstring pajama bottoms, not sure what to say. When I look up, Mason’s expression is tortured.

“Don’t go, please.” His eyes close against the possibility of me denying him.

“I was going to come back,” I whisper.

Mason breathes in slowly, then out just as carefully before speaking. “You were?”

“Yes.” I hold my breath, silently begging him not to ask me why. I don’t know if I can answer that question coherently.

My fingers tighten around the pajama bottoms just as Mason releases his hold on them. His hands fall away, but he hesitates a moment before turning back. I watch him walk to his dresser. When he is intent on finding another pair of pajamas, I quickly wriggle out of my jeans and tug on the pj bottoms.

I want to turn around, for just a minute, but fear keeps me rooted to the floor. Blocking out the sound of him undressing is impossible. I could describe every movement. My breathing stops entirely when I hear him pull on the pajama bottoms and take a step toward me. Even knowing he is coming, I still jump when his hand touches my shoulder.

“Why are you just standing here?” he whispers.

My whole body floods scarlet. I cannot even express how grateful I am that this room is dark. Any answer I could give would sound completely idiotic. So I don’t say anything. I turn away and head to the bed, dropping onto it graceless and awkward. I just want to pull the blankets over my head, but when I reach for them and find nothing, I remember the tangled heap on the floor.

A second later, Mason settles a light blanket around my shoulders. His hand lingers. The recollection of how to breathe escapes me entirely. The way his fingers slide down my arm sends a shiver through my body. The ability to breath returns, but now I can’t seem to stop breathing! My chest pumps in and out at a manic pace.

The mattress shifts as Mason’s weight distorts the surface. I feel absolutely paralyzed as he lies down next to me. His hand still rests tentatively on my shoulder, his body keeping its distance. The air in the room freezes. Sound melts away. All either of us can hear is my breathing, rapid and frantic.

“Are you okay?” Mason asks worriedly.

Am I okay? I wonder. Am I losing it completely? How many times have I ended up in bed with Mason over the years? Dozens, but this is different. This isn’t just two friends talking or comforting each other. I can’t lie next to him without wanting more. When did this happen? Does it matter? Do I want it to be any different?

“Ollie, are you okay?”

No, I don’t want it to be any different. That admission slows everything back down. 

“Yes,” I say, finally gaining control of my breathing. “I’m fine.”

Reaching up for Mason’s hand on my shoulder, I pull it around me. Never one to waste an opportunity, Mason scoots in closer. For the second time tonight, I fall asleep in Mason’s arms.