the series of r/nosleep | volume one: the {smile} series

{H}umerous

"Can I see it?"

"No," I say and turn sideways on the bench.

She's pouting now, if it's even really a pout, I mean, she's freaking smiling at the same time. She knows I can't hold out much longer, especially when she wears that shirt.

"Please?" She leans forward and puts both hands on my thigh. Cleavage pokes out from the tight flannel shirt whose top third she's conveniently left unbuttoned. I try not to look, fail, force myself to look away, and then immediately look again. She catches me and the pout spreads to a full-blown smile. Damn it.

"Fine," I say and slowly turn back towards her. Her hands slide up my thigh sending tingles into my stomach, and then she quickly pulls them away to cover her blushing face.

"You give in too easy, Chad," she giggles and buttons two buttons on her shirt. "I was fully prepared to go all the way."

Now I'm blushing.

"Not that all the way! God!" She playfully slaps my arm and then immediately regrets it. "Oh, I'm sorry! Did I hurt it?"

"No," I lie. "It's fine." My left arm is clutched to my chest. I use my right to prop it up. Tara dips her head to the side trying to get a better look. "It doesn't hurt anymore, I swear." I shift on the bench; the wood is digging into my ass, and wince.

Tara notices. "Liar," she says softly and reaches out a timid hand to touch my arm. "Do you think it's broken?"

Yes, I want to say. "No."

She pokes me gently and I try not cry out. "And it happens when you're sleeping?"

"Yeah," I say, trying not to think about the dreams. "I mean, I think so. I go to bed healthy and wake up, um, not so healthy, I guess." I shrug.

"Did you tell your parents?"

I wince for a totally different reason.

"Oh god," she says. "I'm so sorry. Parent. Did you tell your parent - your mom, I mean?" She puts a hand on my leg. "I'm sorry."

"You've said that a lot," I try to joke.

She acts like she's going to slap me again, smiles that wonderful smile, and then places her hand back on my leg. "I'm sorry about your dad, Chad. And I'm sorry about your arm. I'm sorry about your wrist last month, and your foot the month before that." She leans in to kiss me. "I'm sorry about your shoulder and your hand." She closes her eyes. "And I'm sorry about -"

"His face!" a voice yells from the bottom of the hill behind us. "Don't forget to apologize for that mess."

"Shut-up, Derek," I yell over my shoulder. "Can't you see we're trying to have a moment over here?"

Derek makes a farting sound and cackles.

"Moment's over," Tara says. She opens her eyes and kisses the tip of my nose. "And for the record, I like your face. Even if it is a bit lopsided."

"Lopsided?!" I feign disgust and try to cover my face, but the pain rips through my arm. Tara's smile falters for a second and then recovers.

"You ready?" Derek asks. He has climbed the hill and now stands behind me.

"Yep," says Tara. She pulls a camera from a bag stashed under the bench and slings it around her neck.

I try to stand up but Derek puts a gentle hand on my good shoulder. "Not you, pal. You're gonna sit this one out."

"But," I try to protest. Derek takes a knee beside me.

"Listen, dude. We've got to get in and out of old man Mcleritin's before he gets home. And I know you're fast; you run the forty in like 4.9, right?"