Riley Brooks appears to be leading a charmed life on the outside. On the inside, she's spiraling as a result of a toxic relationship. Once the relationship comes to a tumultuous end, she loses very nearly everything, her sanity included. As an effor...
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We stared at each other for a long moment, both panting like we just finished a marathon. I was frozen in complete shock, my hand still poised above my head in "kill-mode."
"What....the fuck?" Landon grappled the pen—oh my god, a pen—from my fist and tossed it across the room. Then he stared at me with wild eyes and a raised brow, his chest heaving with adrenaline. "You sleepwalk?!"
"Apparently!" I snapped and after a beat of silence, I broke down crying. Relief, exhaustion, and humiliation almost made my knees give out completely.
Landon let out a defeated sigh and pulled me into his chest. I didn't expect it, and the movement whacked the air from my lungs. I hiccupped against his shirt for a moment, trapped in a pathetic cycle of crying because I was embarrassed, and becoming more embarrassed from my crying.
He petted my hair as I found a surprising consolation in his rapid heartbeat pounding against my ear. It reminded me of a metronome clicking rapidly at maximum speed. Eventually, his pulse slowed down to a normal rhythm and my crying followed in tandem.
He smelled nice. He always smelled nice. I leaned my head against him, secretly trying to identify each individual scent: Wood chips, mint candy, soap, and a dash of cigarette. It would make a good Yankee Candle, I thought absently.
"Riley...." he sighed, a rumble through his breastbone.
"I know, I'm crazy, okay? That's never happened before...."
"How long has it been since you had a good night's sleep?" He intended for his question to sound simple, but I could hear the concern welling up his throat, the cogs turning in his head. He thinks I'm crazy.
I am crazy.
"Um...." I thought about it for a moment, tears filling my eyes when I realized I didn't remember.
"Nevermind. It's okay," he comforted, offering another awkward stroke against my hair like he was petting a dog.
"This is not how I was supposed to welcome you home." I whined.
Suddenly, he stiffened. I looked up with confusion and realized he was desperately trying to stifle his chuckling.
"I'm so sorry," he gasped, his eyes pleading apologetically. I glared and pushed away from him, crossing my arms. The front of his shirt was all wet from my tears.
"What in God's name is so funny?" I demanded.
"No, you're right. It isn't funny." He pursed his lips and looked away.
"Then why are you laughing?"
He snatched up a pen from the holder resting on the side table. "I just never considered using a pen as a weapon before...." He turned it over thoughtfully.
