Be Rude but Love Me | ✔

CHAPTER 14

I am incapable of closing my eyes for too long. No matter how hard I try, it always results in me opening them again, only to be faced by darkness. It's been two hours and I haven't been able to fall asleep. Yann on the other hand is curled up on his reclined seat, face turned toward me. I look at him but I don't see him. Maybe that's what will always happen, I'll be looking at him but I will never see him for who he truly is no matter how hard I try to. I'll never know him because he has made the decision to keep his heart closed to people and prefers to bathe himself in loneliness.

I don't think I'll ever be able to fathom why his words hurt but I know they did. One opens up to people who matter. What did I expect? For him to pour his heart out in one night in a moment of pure emotional turmoil? No, certainly not. But neither did I expect it to hurt.

I look at him, stare at his face. His traits are unworried for once, the frown gone. I brush away a strand of his hair that has fallen onto his eyes like I usually do with Lucy, it's a reflex. Yann furrows his eyebrows in sleepy protest but he soon lets himself bask in the insouciance of sleep.

I'm cold despite the thick and heavy material covering me. Yann doesn't appear to be cold, but just to make sure he doesn't wake up sick the next morning, I decide to cover him as well. Unfolding the sheets, I deploy them to see how large they are. They're ample enough to cover the both of us. Carefully, I take a corner of the blanket and spread it over him. He seems to like the provided comfort as he snuggles like a child under the sheets.

I replace myself in a fetal position and face Yann. I think of how badly I wanted to escape him at all costs when we first met but truth is, I don't want to avoid him. I can't avoid him anyways. He's friends with Ellie and Will. It's nearly impossible; proof is, I am stuck in a car with him right now.

Once more, as my eyelids are drooping low and a yawn escapes my lips, I take a look at the guy who's so afraid to talk, so afraid to let in more people than he already has.

And in this moment, I am sure of one thing: I will not go down without a fight.

***

The next morning, movements in my jeans' front pocket wake me up and I jolt up in my seat. I face Yann who doesn't seem to be the least bothered by such an unusual awakening and continues what he is doing. His hand is in my pocket and he's pushing his hand further down.

Feeling violated, I shout, "What are you doing?" and try to slap his hand away but it doesn't bulge.

Instead of removing his hand, Yann looks up at me with a bored expression. "Don't flatter yourself." He rolls his eyes before adding, "I need to check the time."

He then pulls out my phone from my pocket, looks down at the screen, grumbles and throws the phone back at me. He falls back against his seat and sighs, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Couldn't you wake me up and ask? Or couldn't you wait for me to wake up? What normal people stick their hands into a sleeping girl's front pocket to check the time?"

He sighs again. "Graham," he starts, impatient, "it's seven in the morning. Please spare me."

He rubs his face into his palms again. I look at him, feeling a little sad that he's back to his usual self. The frown that was gone from his face last night is back, the worry once more contorting his features into something almost unpleasant to behold. What is he so worried about?

I decide to spare him as he requests and switch topics. "How did you sleep?" I ask casually with another yawn.

He shoots me a distrusting look. "Fine."