A Bond in the Dark

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter 19

(Hope)

Hope awoke with a shiver—she was freezing. Half-asleep, she cracked open an eye to find that the room was still dark, accompanied by the distinct chill of early morning.

She groaned— It was clearly much too early to be conscious.

She pulled on the covers, which had become hopelessly tangled around her legs. For some reason, it seemed like something was holding them in place— Irritated, she tugged on them harder until there was enough blanket to wrap around herself.

"Hey..." a sleepy voice protested from beside her.

A male voice.

Hope froze— someone was in the bed with her.

"Stop hogging the covers," the voice mumbled grumpily.

She bolted upright, turning to see the shape of a man lying next to her— he was on his side, back turned to her, but she would recognize those messy curls anywhere.

"Clarke?!" she asked in disbelief, quickly scooting to the edge of the bed.

"What?" he grumbled, clearly still half-asleep.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, completely taken aback by his presence.

This wasn't right. This was—

"Hope...?" he asked, turning to look at her. He looked as confused as she felt. "Must be a dream..." he said with a yawn.

"Yours or mine?" she asked, barely stifling a giggle.

She suddenly felt rather unsteady...

"That should be obvious," he answered, finally sitting up. He was in a pair of black sleep shorts and, once again, missing his shirt.

Wait, when had she seen him without a shirt before? They had been looking for something together... right?

"If this is a dream, then why does it feel so real?" she asked, deliberately looking away from him to hide her rising blush.

Instead, she studied the room around her. The low light made it hard to make out the details, but she knew that everything from the dark wallpaper to the large four poster bed seemed both unfamiliar and very, very real.

"How did we get here?" she asked, reaching for the pendant around her neck.

"I'm not sure..." he said, clearly as puzzled as she was.

Hope turned back to him, finding herself unable to keep from staring at his chest—he was muscular, but not overly so. She let her eyes travel up to his face, noting the light scruff on his neck and cheeks... Finally, she met his gaze, surprised to find his face flushed.

"You're really fit," she said, feeling another wave of unsteadiness overtake her. "Is it weird that I said that?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious, but she wasn't sure why...

"I don't think it's weird," he said softly. "If this is a dream, what harm could it do?" he asked, flashing her a crooked smile.

She giggled again— What the hell was wrong with her?

She was acting like she was twelve years old!

Lizzie would have teased her mercilessly...

It was the same off-balance feeling you get playing "truth or dare?" at a friend's sleepover— There was the distinct feeling that she was somehow out of control in this moment...