Displaced

Chevelle - Fourteen

"Chevelle...Chevelle...wake up." Timber's voice was far away. My body shook gently, and it took me a moment to realize that he was in fact dragging me back to the waking world.

Groaning, I rolled over and smacked something hard with my hand.

"Ow!" He grunted. When I opened my eyes, I saw my hand had made contact with his nose. Good thing I don't pack much of a punch first thing in the morning, or we might have had a mess on our hands.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment, shaking his head, but still smiling. That guy always seemed to be smiling. I was kind of waiting for the happy buzz to fade and for his claws to start coming out. Nobody was that happy all of the time, right?

"Sorry," I mumbled, and stretched, arching my back fully. Yeah, guess who doesn't sleep with a bra on at night? This girl, which wasn't anything scandalous since I don't know a lot of women who do. Timber, ever the gentleman, looked away from me and climbed off of the bed. Not like my boobs were flying out of my shirt or anything, but it's still noticeable all the same.

He chuckled. "Don't worry about it. I didn't even want to wake you up, but you were talking and it was getting kind of loud. It wouldn't have been a big deal except for some of the things you were saying were kind of scaring Lara."

"Oh."

"You were dreaming about him, weren't you? Wicken, I mean. Because that's who you were talking about. Must have been an intense dream."

I nodded. "From what I can remember, it was. He was being hurt and I got him free, but then something pulled him away from me again. We couldn't escape here."

"Gotcha," he said, then sighed. "I've got breakfast made."

I snorted quietly. "What is it with you and cooking all the meals? It's like you have this obsession with food."

He shrugged. "I like to eat and I can be useful if I cook. It's one of the few life skills I'm actually good at. Besides I...I need to control what I eat. Are you complaining? Do I suck at it?"

"No, you don't. You're pretty awesome. Better than mom, even, but I would never tell her that of course."

"Of course."

I bit my lip for a moment. "It just seems weird, I guess. Not what I would have expected at all."

"Glad to be full of surprises."

"You don't have an eating disorder or something, do you?" I hated to ask the question, but what he said about having to control what he ate sounded a lot like something I'd heard on a PSA for bulimia once. Just because he was a guy didn't mean he was immune to that kind of stuff. He was an actor after all. I'm sure there was just as much pressure on him to stay in shape and "thin" as there was on the girls.

Thankfully, instead of getting all pissed off, Timber laughed – and hard, I should add – like I'd just told the most hilarious joke on the planet. I'm honestly not that funny.

He fell back onto the bed, laughing next to me. "I promise, I don't have an eating disorder. It's...kind of complicated."

"Is it something I'm going to need to know about you?"

"Maybe, but if I tell you, I don't want you to freak out either because it's not a huge deal."

"Okay, hit me with it. No freak out, promise."

Sighing, he gazed up at the ceiling. "I was born hypoglycemic. Like I said, it's not a big deal."

"I don't quite understand what that means," I admitted.

"It's basically the opposite of diabetes. There's more to it than that, obviously, but that's the gist of it. Instead of having too little insulin, I have too much so I burn up my blood sugar faster. Some people are born with it, others develop it over time. Basically, I just have to watch what I eat. Certain foods make me crabby because I wear out faster, others will make me crash hard and that can have some bad side effects."

"So if you control what you eat, then you don't have those things happen," I said.

"Bingo! Because I don't think an accidental crash would be good right about now, nor do you need me biting your head off because I ate the wrong thing, or didn't eat enough of something." He winked. "Besides, I like to cook. I think I said that before."

I nodded. "You may have mentioned it."

His smile stayed on his face for a moment longer before he replaced it with a deep frown. "Don't tell anyone, though. I know it's not the end of the world. There's nothing dangerous about it. I'm not going to randomly pass out or anything dramatic like that, but at the same time...what if they think it makes me defective?"

That right there broke my heart. "The last thing you are is defective, Timber. Trust me, you're as close to perfect as anyone can get."

He was laughing again, so I must have said the right thing to cheer him up. Then he nudged me playfully, much like my brother had done back home. "Just wait until you hear me belch. Pretty sure that will shatter everything."

"We'll have a contest, then."

"Sounds good. Now seriously, come eat because I made French toast and it's not as good when it's flat and cold." He rubbed my shoulder and then bounced off of the bed.

I lay there for a moment, trying to wake up and will myself to leave the warm comfort of the bed. If I stayed there, maybe I could keep living in the fantasy of everything being normal and fine. On the other hand, if I stayed there, I would definitely have no hope of finding Wicken.

"Come on, self, get moving."