Page 36 of Sleeper: The Palisades Edition

“Paris, London, New York.”

“Nothing in LA, huh?”

She shuts the dishwasher and slides her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “No, but there is a burgeoning niche perfumery scene here. Which is why I came.”

I shut the cutlery drawer, lean back against the counter, and shove my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “Well, I hope you get whatever you want.”

“Thanks.” She shrugs and smiles at me. “I’m gonna go work on a logo for my store. In my room.”

“Yeah, cool.”

“Yeah.”

She is so fucking pretty, and I’ve never noticed how quiet it is at night in this house before. All I can hear is the hum of the refrigerator, her uneven breaths, and my pounding heart. When she starts taking slow steps toward me, my heart beats even faster. She tilts her head and reaches one arm out, and holy shit this is happening.

Her hand reaches just past my head. “Sorry. I just need a glass of water to take to my room.”

“Oh.” I step aside. “Good idea.”

She opens the cupboard that was right behind me and grabs a glass.

I stay exactly where I am, watching her beautiful ass as she crosses to the refrigerator to use the water dispenser.

When she turns back to face me, she says, “Okay, good night.”

“Good night.” My hands grip the edge of the counter, when all they really want to do is grab on to that beautiful ass.

Holding her glass of water, she walks toward me again, smiling. Before I can step out of the way, she stops right in front of me, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses me on one cheek and then the other. She pauses. I loosen my grip on the counter. “Sorry. It’s what the French do.” She lowers herself back down, avoiding eye contact. “I guess I shouldn’t do that again.”

I loosen my grip on my sanity just a little and mutter, “Probably not. Are both people supposed to kiss both cheeks?”

Her eyes flick up to meet mine. She nods, just barely, holding on to her glass with both hands. I look down and see ripples in the water. Her hands are trembling.

“I want to get this right, then,” I say as I hook one finger under her chin to tilt it up. I lean down to kiss her right cheek, soft and slow. I spread my fingers to gently grip the back of her neck as I kiss her left cheek, hearing the quiet gasp by my ear and feeling it all over. I inhale the subtly hypnotic scent of her and whisper, “Did I do that right?”

“Mmmmhunh.”

I let go, pull back. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted. If there was ever a girl who I should kiss on the lips and a moment for me to kiss her, it’s this girl right now. But I don’t.

“Good night.”

“Good night,” she says, eyes still closed, standing still. And then she shakes her head and opens her eyes, clears her throat. “Good night.”

And then she’s gone.

I stay exactly where I am until I hear the door close down the hall.

I stay where I am, and if that door opens again, nothing is going to stop me from going through it.

But it doesn’t.

And I don’t.

SHANE MILLER SLEEP DIARY

THURSDAY MORNING

Went to bed at:Before ten.