He pushes open the master bedroom door. My eyes sweep the room, taking in the very personal space that’s entirely Lachlan.
The walls are a dark charcoal color. His furniture is all different shades of rich woods. His bed is a mountain of gray and white blankets. It’s the coziest looking bed I’ve ever seen. At the foot of his bed, on the floors, are stacks and stacks of books. There are more stacks through the whole bedroom. In the corner, the only real pop of color is a comfortable looking low teal chair. Beside it is a small table, one book, and his glasses. Above the bed hangs an art piece of the San Francisco skyline. Beside his bed, stretching above it, is a wired light that hangs down. It’s probably the most modern looking piece in the whole room.
Lachlan rummages through his dresser, emerging with a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts.
Clearing his throat, he says, “They’ll be a little big for you, but you should be able to make it work. The shorts have drawstrings.” He looks over his shoulder at the sleep-mussed bed. “I changed the sheets yesterday, but I can put different ones on if you want.”
“It’s fine. Thank you.” I take the clothes from him and he nods.
“I’m going to go make up the couch. Goodnight, Dani.”
“Night.”
He grabs a pillow off the bed and a blanket from the end. His arm brushes mine as he passes and despite the warm hoodie and the chill that has long since left me, my body covers in goosebumps.
Before he can close the door again, I say, “Lachlan?” He pauses, looking back at me with his hand on the door. “Thank you. I mean it. This … thank you.”
His lips flatten, his eyes dark. He gives me another single nod and closes the door.
I set the clothes down on the bed, reluctantly removing his hoodie I strip out of my clothes, only leaving my bra and panties on. His shorts are way too big for me, like he said, but I’m able to tie them tight enough that they only slide down my hips a little. I pull his shirt on and the hoodie. He’ll be lucky if he gets his sweatshirt back. It’s a charcoal gray color, clearly well-worn and loved, with a faded Led Zeppelin logo.
The dog paws at the door, letting out a whimper. From the living area I hear Lachlan scold him with a stern, “Zeppelin, no.”
Climbing into bed, I turn off the light. Rolling onto my side, I yank the covers up to my chin burrowing down. Surrounded by Lachlan’s scent I’ve decided this is as close to heaven as I’ll ever get. Now that the adrenaline has abated my body feels a hundred pounds heavier than normal. I don’t like the feeling at all. I’ve never felt exhaustion like this before. If I felt it after the shooting I don’t remember because I spent most of those days in a deep sleep after multiple surgeries.
I don’t know how long I lay in the dark, but the door cracks open. Lachlan tiptoes inside quietly like he doesn’t want to wake me.
“Sorry,” he murmurs lowly when he spots my cracked eyes, “I need to grab something. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
He crouches down beside me, digging in the drawer beside his bed. “Want to talk about it?” I shake my head. He pulls a wrapped peppermint from the drawer. “Want one?” Again, I shake my head. He puts it in his mouth, dropping the wrapper on the table.
He starts to stand up, to leave. I grab onto his forearm. His pulse thrums against my palm as he halts. “Don’t leave yet,” I plead brokenly.
Zeppelin jumps onto the bed, curling up beside me. He promptly passes out with a loud doggy snore.
“Do you need something? I can bring you water.”
I shake my head, biting my lip.
Him. I need him.
It makes no sense. It’s illogical. But I do.
Ever since the first day of school there’s been something about him that intuitively I trust, that some part of me, maybe my soul, perhaps something else, recognizes that he’s the one I can share my secrets with.
But I shouldn’t desire him.
I can’t desire him.
It’s wrong.
It’s immoral.
For him.
For me.