tricks of time ― grayson hawthorne [the inheritance games]

009. HAWTHORNE SHENIGANS

In the middle of the night, I wake up.  The light is still off, but there's a sliver of the moonlight shining through the curtain, and I rub my eyes for a moment.   I roll over to my side, but Grayson isn't there. I can't feel him either.

Suddenly, I'm wide awake, terrified.

My heart is pounding against the inside of my chest. I fumble for the light switch and take a sharp intake of breath when I notice Grayson at his desk, peacefully working. He squints from the light and looks across to me. He's put his shirt back on.

"You're up," he says. "Bad dreams?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't get nightmares."

He sighs, then goes back to working without giving me a second thought. But I'm wide awake now. I tuck myself into the covers, craving it's warmth again, before my curiosity gets the better of me.

"How long have you been up for?"

He pauses, and so does his pen. "Doesn't matter."

"Aren't you going to go to sleep?"

He shakes his head. "I don't usually go to bed this early."

I look around for a clock, but I can't find one.

"What time is it?"

He now turns to me, his full attention on me. "One in the morning."

Now it's my turn to be surprised. "Aren't we expected to be up in a few hours? Alisa told me that I needed to go to...school." I'm astonished at how gingerly I say it.

"Yes," he states sharply. "However, I rarely sleep when I'm supposed to." He pauses for a few moments, then speaks again. "You should sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Leah," he clears his throat. "You should sleep. I worry you're a cranky person in the morning."

I try to contain my laughter, but I fail. "Hm," I say thoughtfully. "That's the first thing about me you've gotten correct so far," I say smiling as I watch a scowl appear on his face.

"Go to sleep."

I nod, because there's nothing else for me to say. I'm talking to someone who would kill me if they had the chance.

___

As I wake up, this time clearly in the morning, I'm blushing through my hairline. Grayson is still fast asleep.

So he must've fallen asleep eventually.

Yet I'm not. I'm wide awake like a hawk. I'm nestled in his chest, and I can feel his skin: hot and smooth. And I can't move, not at all, because his arm has fallen around me carefully, tight on my waist, too tight, and my breaths are almost like short wheezes. Yet I feel so safe, so warm, too content, and although I'm trying to find a reason to hate this, I can't.

But eventually, I regain my normal composure. I can't enjoy this, because this is Grayson Hawthorne who is next to me.

"Grayson," I whisper in his ears, my voice almost soft.

He rolls over, thankfully freeing me from his tight grasp. I hear him mumble something under his breath, but it's too quiet and too jumbled up for me to hear it.

"What?" I whisper.

"Emily." I hear him mumbling. I return his stare, a look of bewilderment on my face. Did he just say Emily? I peer through the same slice of curtain as I did a few hours ago. It's only early morning, and the sun isn't out yet, despite the hues blue, pink, and orange projected all over the sky.