20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Forty Four

Kyle's POV

It's hard to admit, but change is never easy — especially for someone like me. Still, Twy deserves to see a better version of me. Not that I'm a terrible person, but... she's just too good. Honestly, what did I do in this world to deserve someone like her?

Our story is bizarre — like something out of a movie, a novel, or maybe a dramatic TV series. Definitely not real life. I still remember the first day I saw her, right there beside me on the airplane. She was so nervous... and so incredibly cute. She was laser-focused on the safety instructions, and while she was listening to the flight attendant, I was listening to her heartbeat.

What was I thinking about her in that moment?

She grabbed my attention instantly, but when did I really fall in love? I'm not sure. I definitely admired her from the start — I mean, I couldn't stop watching her the entire flight. She was adorable. And maybe I acted a little cold just to hide it. Maybe I was afraid of how much I already liked her.

Twyla... even her name is something rare. She's the first person I've ever met with that name, and I love it. It's soft. Musical. Like her.

I lied to her about my name back then. God, I hate those days. I hate what I did — how I hurt her. She trusted me, probably more than anyone else here. And I still managed to mess it up.

She's obsessed with her parents, and honestly, it's one of the most unfamiliar feelings to me. I've never had that kind of connection with my family. Sometimes I envied her for it. For being able to love them that much. It meant they raised her right. That they cared. And maybe... maybe I should envy them for having a daughter like her. A daughter who loves them fiercely — even when they're not around. Maybe that's the kind of love I never got.

Hell, maybe I should call my mom.

Before I can spiral too far, Twy's voice pulls me back.

"Where would you sleep? Do you have any other rooms?" she asks.

"No," I lie, smirking. Let's play a little.

"Really? Isn't this place too big to have just one room?" she says, hand on her waist — and I swear, I love her attitude.

"Yeah, but I figured one room's enough for a guy and his girl."

"Who's the girl?" She raises an eyebrow.

"You, if you don't mind," I tease.

She rolls her eyes. "Ky, don't play that with me."

Ky. No one's ever called me that before.

"Yeah, Ky. Do you like it?" she grins. God, her smile. Perfect teeth, of course — she brushes three times a day.

"I love it," I say honestly. Ky... I could get used to that.

"Okay, Ky, where are you sleeping?"

She's playing with her hair. I want to run my fingers through it so bad — if she'd just let me.

"I'm joking," I say. "I'll go. You probably have a couch out there."

"Goodnight," she says, turning for the door.

"Wait." I grab her arm gently. "We could share the bed. It's big and—"

"Happy dreams," she cuts me off and tries to shake my hand away.

So stubborn.

"Okay, fine. You sleep here. I'll go to the other room."

"Aha! So there is another room!" she says triumphantly. Her eyes gleam like she just won Olympic gold.

"Yes. I was lying," I admit, throwing up my hands. "I just wanted to sleep close to you. You make me feel safe."

Her eyes lock onto mine. She's quiet, listening.

"You know, I should be the mom and you the son," she says teasingly. "But sorry, little boy Ky. I'm sleeping with your dad tonight." She kisses my cheek.

It takes me back.

"You know... my mom used to do that," I begin. "When I was around sixteen, I used to have these terrible nightmares. I asked her to sleep with me once, and she said, 'A mother sleeps with the father.' I didn't blame her. I never told her how scared I was. I just... tried to act tough. Pretend I was strong. But she wasn't always there the way I needed her to be. She was there, but not... really."

Twy's listening so carefully. Really listening.

"Maybe it was my fault," I mutter. "Maybe I was the problem."

"Ky... I'm sorry," she says softly. Then: "No, Kyle. The problem is with you."

Her honesty cuts, but I don't interrupt.

"You don't truly love your parents — not the way you say you do. If you did, you wouldn't keep bringing up this one moment to justify everything. Do you think families are perfect? That they never argue? You didn't even tell her you were having nightmares! You said you wanted to seem strong. Fine. But your family should've been the one place where you could be yourself."

She pauses, her voice full of quiet emotion.

"You talk like no one really knows you. And that's a hard way to live."

I swallow. She's right. Maybe I've never truly opened up to anyone before. But if I'm going to start... I want it to be her.

"Kyle?" she asks, her voice uncertain. Maybe she thinks she pushed too hard.

"Yeah?" I shrug, still lost in thought.

"Did I upset you?"

"No," I say, gently rubbing her hands. "I was just thinking... maybe you are right."

She nods, silently. The air is heavy — not with tension, but with something new. Something real.

And God, I hope we last long enough to see what we could become.