Too Much To Hide || EDITING

c.9

      We are back in Adrian's bedroom after we finish our meals. James is still in his dreamland, drooling down my shoulder. My grey t-shirt is feeling icky from his saliva but it's not like I can do anything about it so I just leave him be, ignoring the strange, cold sensation. 

      On the king-sized bed propped up against the wall, there are two pillows to accommodate two adults. Adrian picks up the pillow on the left side and throws it onto a luxurious, plump leather couch directly opposite the four poster.

      "What are you doing?" I raise an eyebrow as I watch him pace across the room with the pillows that were originally decorating the sofa.

      Adrian settles them on the side of the bed that is bare, lining them against the edge of the mattress. "You both are going to sleep here, I'm over there." He points his chin to the sofa.

      I frown. "No, you and James sleep here, I'll stay on the couch."

      Adrian sighs in frustration. I guess Mr Playful has decided to take a nap.

      "He needs his mom. And since she isn't here, you have to fill in. For the time being, of course." He adds casually. 

      Ah. That does make sense. I still can't shake off the strange feeling though.

      "Why are you sleeping on the couch? I swear I saw more than enough guest bedrooms on my way here."

       Adrian hesitates, tensing his shoulders a little. Huh?

      "Don't ask. I like the comforts of my own room, thanks." He says harshly before turning and heading into the bathroom to, no doubt, brush his teeth. 

       A sigh leaves my lips as I walk around the bed and sit on the right side. As gently as I can, I settle James down next to the barrier of throw pillows and also line my own pillow against his right arm for now.

      Finally, I can stretch. I stand and arch my back, bringing my arms over my head and flexing my measly muscles. Carrying a sleeping baby is heavier than carrying one that is awake. I twist my hips and hear a few faint cracks, which sends a shiver down my spine. Bringing my arms forward, I crane my spine and groan as the last of my numbness wriggles out of my toes and fingers. Hm, that feels a lot better. 

       Feeling flexible, I look down at my attire. Shit. I didn't bring extra clothing with me. My faded blue mom jeans cling comfortably onto my hips but that doesn't mean it can double as pyjama pants. Not to mention my top, which is covered in baby spit. 

      Adrian walks out of the en-suite bathroom, running a towel through his face.

     "Um, Adrian,"

      He raises an eyebrow in my direction as he hangs his towel on a rack.

      The thought flusters me. I don't have any choice, I'm going to have to say it.

      "I don't have any spare clothes." I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat up. 

      "Oh." Is all he says. He seems as flustered as I am by the topic and that certainly doesn't help my own anxiety. The last time I had to ask clothes from a guy, it was my dad. I had vomited over my only outfit so I wore his shirt and baggy shorts. Fashion disaster. Although, that wasn't as embarrassing as right now, considering the fact that I know my dad.

      "Hold on," He murmurs and wonders over to a double door threshold. He pushes the doors open with a flourish and I briefly notice that it's a walk-in closet. I didn't realize men could have that much clothing.