Page 53 of When In Doubt

“It’s not a big deal, I just get a bit anxious about her ever since my dad…” he trails off.

“Oh.” Of course losing his father would make him worry about his mom. I can’t imagine what that did to him, but it makes sense that he’d hold the people he cares about tighter.

“It’s all good.” He sits up in a sudden burst of movement that almost gives me whiplash, swinging his legs off the bed and striding for the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower. The pizza’s paid for and I tipped online, in case it shows up.”

I open my mouth to speak but he’s gone before I can get a word in.

Later, when the only light in the room comes in from the streetlight outside, ineffectively blocked by cheap blackout curtains, I lie in the dark and listen to Oscar breathing. We didn’t talk much after his shower, just enough to get through dinner before we both turned in, and I’m worried that I’ve broken something that never really existed.

I’ve gotten good at being alone, at ignoring the tight feeling that clicks into place any time I let my thoughts linger on it. I’ve almost convinced myself that it’s better this way, even on nights like this when I’m lying alone, imagining what it would be like if there were another body in this bed, someone pressed against me. Imagining the cold feeling of emptiness that surrounds me being chased away by the touch of someone warm.

Not just someone, a voice says, him.

I roll to the side, curling in around myself and forcing my eyes shut. What if our beds were pressed together, or there had never been two to begin with? Maybe in his sleep he’d turn over and hold me, wrap one of those arms around my middle and tug me against his chest like I’m something precious.

The empty feeling inside me opens up, and at this point I don’t know how it hasn’t swallowed me whole, how there’s any of me left.

And it’s exactly why I shouldn’t want this. Not when I’ve proven that I don’t know a bad thing if it’s staring me in the face, not when I’ve learned I can’t trust myself to choose the right person.

He’s safe, he’s Oscar.

I bring my knees up to my chest, fighting to stop the tears from leaking out. My breath comes shaky as I sink into the paralyzing terror saddled to the thought.

I want him.

Chapter Eighteen

OSCAR

Iroll over, trying to stifle my grunt. I’ve been in and out of sleep all night. My brain’s too wired to let me relax. When I open my eyes, I’m faced with the cause of all this, sleeping three feet away from me, long eyelashes brushing against her cheeks.

A strand of hair falls across her face, torturing me. Maybe I could just push it back. She probably wouldn’t even notice. Maybe then, I’ll finally get some rest. I turn onto my back, glaring up at the ceiling. What the fuck is wrong with me?

The sheets on her bed rustle and she lets out a soft sigh, and I have to hold back a groan. This has been the problem. Any time she moves, any sound she makes, my whole body locks up. I’m hyperaware of every detail of the woman lying next to me, our beds only separated by a few inches.

Is it fucked up to admit that when she told me we’d have to share a room, my first reaction was excitement? A small part of me was disappointed when we came in to find the two beds. Obviously I’m not a creep, I’d never make a move on her like that, but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t want the chance to be close to her.

My phone buzzes next to me and I snatch it off the nightstand before the sound can wake Freya.

Mom

Here you go

What’s going on?

She’s attached a contact card which I copy into a new thread.

Oscar

Just needed to ask her something

I texted my mom in the night when I first had the idea. I’m hoping Freya doesn’t mind surprises.

Mom

Is it about Freya?

Oscar