Chapter 20

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"Nightmare," I said dismissively, laying back down on the bed and staring emptily at the ceiling. 

Couldn't give me one night off, could ya? I thought bitterly. Now Ari knew. I kept my face blank, but inside I felt weak and exposed, which in turn made me even more irritated. 

"Obviously." She didn't have to say anything else. I knew she wanted me to talk to her. But what would be the point of that? If I told her, it would only add to my vulnerability. If I told her about my past, her perception of me would change. If I let down my walls for her, she could hurt me. 

"What's bothering you?"

Her voice jolted me out of my reverie. My eyes flickered to my right, seeing her still facing me with a concerned look in her eyes. I shifted a little under her gaze, then turned my attention back up. I was thoroughly examining the textured pattern above me when I answered her.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it."

She let out a soft laugh that was strangled with exasperation and worry. "It's not nothing. You were muttering in your sleep, and you sounded terrified when you woke up."

I shrugged. "It was a just nightmare."

She opened her mouth, probably to say something sarcastic, but suddenly realization dawned on her.

"This is why you look like shit! You're not sleeping! How often do you have these nightmares?" She grabbed my shoulder, trying to make me turn towards her. I shrugged her hand off and remained on my back.

"Once or twice... a week... every day?" I finally told her.

"Soph," she said quietly, laced with pity.

"I'm used to it." I was trying to be nonchalant.

Ari was still looking at me, I could see out of the corner of my eye. She was waiting for me to continue. 

She would be disappointed once more.

She sighed. "Is there anything that makes them go away?"

I let out a short bark of laughter. "Nothing you would approve of."

I could practically feel her eyes roll. "Alcohol won't solve your problems forever, Soph."

"Well it was solving this one just fine until Anna found my whiskey and I got grounded."

She didn't laugh, and I frowned slightly, disappointed. It was a funny joke. 

I felt her fingertips brush up against my cheek, compelling me to turn onto my side and face her. With a sigh, I obliged, rolling over and draping my arm over her hip. Her right hand caressed the left side of my face. 

"What am I gonna do with you?" she muttered softly to herself.

"You don't need to worry about me," I responded just as quietly.

"I want to help you," she said firmly, "don't you get it? You've been pushing other people away your whole life, and you managed to convince yourself  that you don't need them. But deep down you want somebody to try. And I'm going to be that person for you," she finished. 

I just stared at her in amazement. "How do you do that?" Her words had managed to articulate something within me I didn't even understand until that moment.

She shrugged, doing a mock hair toss. "Future psych major."

"Should've known," I said, shaking my head.

Her eyebrows arched. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Just my luck that the girl I like is the only one who can really read me."

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