DRASTIC (Book 4 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 26: Smart Girls Give Sessions

So, Marley and Bodie will talk a little about the dinner at the Turners in this chapter, but basically, we didn't need to show it. Everyone is entrenched in their positions at this point. Daemon, Pat and TJ on one side, Bodie and Marley on the other, Darius in the middle, and no one is going to give anything away in front of Darius. There was nothing new to show.  This scene however, is pretty interesting!

Marley 

I hear Bodie's bedroom door open and close, and his quick, bare footfalls on the stairs. I flip over on my stomach, clenching the comforter around me.

Holding onto it as if the effort could keep me in place.

This is not normal...for a counselor to feel this much concern for a patient.

Fuck, who am I kidding? This is not normal...for a woman to feel this tied to a man. Period.

I put two pillows over my head, trying to find a reality in which my senses and feelings are dulled. I try to think about anything but Bodie. I try not to imagine what he's doing downstairs, what he's thinking, what dreams—or fantasies—were keeping him from sleeping.

I watch the clock tick. Two interminable minutes become twenty. Bodie doesn't return to bed. I wonder if he's watching TV downstairs. I wonder what he's watching.

Suddenly, I have a different wondering.

What if he's having anxiety or cravings? What if he needs me?

Right.

I pull on a long duster sweater over my somewhat slinky short pajama set—because I'm still living out of the suitcase that I took to Nashville. I beat heavily down the stairs, so that he's knows I'm coming.

The main floor is silent. I pad from unfamiliar room to unfamiliar room, a spooky dread filling me. Amorphous shadow shapes stare ominously at me, but I know they are just furniture and lamps and hatracks other items that are still practically foreign to me. I have a completely ridiculous desire to rush back upstairs, lock my door and throw myself back under the covers.

But I don't, because the growing dread that Bodie left the house urges me on to the garage. Just as I am about to open the garage door, one of the make-believe shadow shapes moves in my peripheral vision.

I let out a whoop of startle as the "ghost" grips my elbow.

Bodie yelps back, shocked at my cry.

But I'm already in fight or flight, and I'm still trying to escape my scare futiley clawing at the handle, completely incapable of unlocking it in my terror.

"Shhh, girl, it's just me," he chuckles, reaching for my hand to still it's frantic attempt at escape.

Hilarity replaces fear and I burst out laughing as he presses his mouth against cap of my shoulder to muffles his own humor.

"You scared me," I pant. He's still gripping one elbow, holding my other hand, pressing me from behind. I can feel sweaty heat pouring off him.

"Bodie," I say softly, "Are you okay?"

He gently turns me in his arms and backs me into the door, caging me there. His forehead is pressed into the door, his mouth is beside my ear.

"No, I'm not okay. I can't stop...remembering the jasmine body lotion you used to wear. This isn't going to work." His voice is ragged.

I press my palms to the door to keep from touching him, but my body betrays me. My mouth automatically turns to his, breathing in his sweat and brushing his damp skin. "It has to work."