3000 Miles (A Wesley Stromberg/Emblem3 Fanfiction)

Chapter Six

The night ended with three rough shots and a vodka cranberry to seal the deal. Waking up was less of a nightmare than I’d anticipated. Somehow, I’d managed to dress myself in sleep clothes—or I at least hoped I’d dressed myself—and everything was in its place. My phone was charging on the bedside, the dress was folded neatly on top of my bag, and Wesley was snoring softly beside me. Again.

I rolled out of bed immediately, ignoring the fog that thickened in my head with the sudden movement. He jolted awake, snorting once and looking around the room alertly before slamming his head back down on the pillow.

"Good morning," he grumbled.

"Why? What happened? What?" I hyperventilated.

"Chill," he groaned, rolling onto his back with his arms above his head. "You asked,"

"I wasn’t that drunk!" I cried, struggling to recall whole snippets of the night after the bar.

He pushed himself up with great effort and swirled his tongue around inside his mouth with a look of disgust. I sympathized, tasting what may have been vomit. While I casually stepped to the mini fridge, I figured I’d gather details.

"How exactly did I end up here?"

"Sleepwalking?" He shrugged, trying to smooth down the tuft of hair on the back of his head. "You go really weird."

"Did I… Say anything?"

"You talked up a storm!" He paused to gulp down half the bottle of mineral water that I’d handed him. "I had my headphones on, but you were asking for something and when I didn’t answer, you started crying and walked all over the suite."

"No kidding," I breathed, beginning to notice the sting of old tears in my eyes.

He nodded. "Then you went berserk. I asked you what you were looking for and you said ‘the end’. I knew you were dreaming, but the way you said it scared the crap out of me."

I furrowed my brow, feeling my pulse quicken. "Keep going,"

"I asked you ‘the end of what?’ and you swiped at me even though I was all the way over here."

"Yeah?" I asked with a quiver in my voice.

He finished off his water bottle, lobbing it towards the nearby waste bin and missing. "I was all ‘Malena, you’re drunk. Go back to bed.’ And you slung all these cursed at me and went to the bay window. If I hadn’t grabbed you, you’d have thrown yourself out, Mel."

Terror flooded my chest and my breath caught. "It’s happening again."

"What’s back?" He asked, suddenly worried. "You did this in Jackson too. Lucky for us, we were ground floor. What’s going on?"

I didn’t know the right answer. I let him touch my forearm, feeling the smoothness of his thumb as it brushed my skin. There were things to tell people after knowing them for less than a week, and my story wasn’t one of them."