Knickers

Charming Bedhead

The morning is greeted with an ugly, spinning headache. My stupid succulent is on the windowsill, silhouetted in sunlight. Dom is asleep beside me, curled up in his quilt.
Unfortunately, I know the drill. I take my water bottle to the bathroom, scrub my face in the sink, puke my guts out, then scrub my face again. Snapshots of last night return to me one by one. Drinking at the bar. Getting kicked out. The three men. Dom coming to my rescue. The teary ride home. Begging him to stay with me. Him actually doing it.
Then, something new surfaces, something unearthed from some deeper part of my memory.
Maya had called back after I was in bed, hadn't she? Dom had answered for me, and despite my blurry grasp on reality I had done my best to eavesdrop.
"Hey. It's Dom. Yeah, Yungblud. No, she's here with me, sleeping. Yeah, it was awful, but she's fine now. I'll tell her to call you so she can give the details. Okay. No worries. Goodnight."
God, that had made my heart so weak. Even now, recalling my drunken state of sleepy vulnerability, it warms the depths of my chest. It's unfamiliar and, unfortunately, very welcome. Too welcome.
Maybe I should tell him how much he's come to mean to me. Is that reckless of me? Is that how to lose someone forever?
I suppose if my soul wore a burlap sack before, now it's in a sundress, frolicking, blissfully carefree. The mud has been hosed away to reveal the tiniest nugget of hope, taking tiny, tentative steps into the world again.
I peek out into the bedroom from the bathroom, finding Dom still asleep under the quilt. I sit beside him in the bed, allowing last night's embarrassment to creep in.
To suddenly abandon him at his own party, and offer no explanation, and then call upon him unexpectedly after three days of radio silence? To have to bite back pride and ask to be saved after having inebriated myself into sorry helplessness? All because I can't deal with a simple crush?
It gets worse, of course it does. It feels like I reverted to complete immaturity, having to be picked off the ground, my tears wiped, my booboos cleaned, and eventually tucked into bed. And, if that weren't enough, I'd cursed, I'd thrown things, I'd been bitter and ungrateful and then begged to sleep beside him. Commandeered his house, his bedroom, his goddamn bed. I'm wearing his clothes. I'd probably ruined his night. How many boundaries had I crossed? How many rules had I violated?
Had I said something regrettable in my boozy honesty?
I'm a fucking disgrace.
Dom's voice startles me out of my shameful trance.
"You alright?" he asks me, sitting up and flicking off the quilt.
I smear my hands down my face, as if to wipe away my embarrassment. "I don't even know what to say," I begin. "I'm so sorry, Dom."
"For what?" he asks, rubbing one eye and yawning.
"For everything. For wrecking your night. For, just, everything. Believe me when I say I really tried not to drag you into it, but Maya wasn't answering, and I just—"
"Don't apologize for calling me," he interjects, waving away my excuses. "Hell, I wish you had called me earlier."
"I think you saved my life," I tell him, chewing anxiously on a corner of the sleeve that I've forgotten isn't mine. "I don't know how to thank you properly, or how to repay you for it all, or even how to goddamn apologize—"
"Marley," he says, both softly and sincerely enough to make me want to fling myself into his arms. "I'm just so relieved you're safe."
"That makes no sense to me," I tell him frustratedly.
"You know, I think I'm starting to understand," he says, yanking his hood down and exposing his charming bedhead. "People are allowed to care about each other. And I do care for you. Is that so off to you?"
"I'm sorry?"
"I'm seeing a pattern in you, Marley. I've never been the cold and unfeeling type. I'm soft. I care. Can't you please just let it be?"
His words render me completely speechless.
"None of this was a favor, or a burden. Sometimes, people look out for each other out of genuine love and concern. That should be enough. No repayment. No apologies. Okay?"
I jerk my face away at the pricking feeling of tears in my eyes. "Okay."
Tell him. You have to tell him.
"Dom," I breathe out. "Dom, I think I..."
He waits patiently for the rest of my confession, but it never comes.
My confidence sputters out and dies, right then and there. His lips quirk up a little in encouragement, but it's not enough.
"Can I buy you a milkshake?" I ask him.
He tosses his head back and laughs.
"Sure, why not?" he asks. "Does that mean we have dinner plans or summat?"
"How about Friday?"
"Let's do Friday," he confirms, with a stout nod and a smile that makes my heart stop. "Feel like breakfast? I googled how to make crepes the other day and I think I'm well good at making them."
"I'm down," I tell him, and we leave together to the kitchen to cook.