I feel ridiculous on this huge bed. I don't even take up half of it so there is plenty of room for Wes to sleep up here too. He took the top cover, telling me it's probably disgusting anyway so he won't feel bad about putting on the floor. He made himself a small bed on the ground and even though I offered him the bed while I took the floor, he told me it wasn't going to happen so I shouldn't waste my time trying to argue it.
I hear him flip over onto his stomach and I chance a quick peek at him in the darkness. The TV is still on and the bright light of the screen helps to outline his figure near the foot of the bed. He's wearing shorts and no shirt. His broad shoulders are almost flexed as he has them tucked beneath his pillow and his head resting on top of it. I can see every ripple of muscle and the way his tan skin is smooth from his face to his feet. He has a large tattoo on his back that slides over his shoulder and stops at the top of his bicep. See his strength and knowing he'd never use it against me make my anger at Rick even stronger.
Wes' back rises and falls with his big inhales and I can see his face is relaxed when the lights dance across it. I want to touch his cheek. I want to kiss it and tell him that everything he is doing for me is appreciated and I will pay it back and more. His eye opens and finds me. My stomach flips and I feel warm, a soothing heat that rises from my dipping stomach to spread across my cheeks. I hope it's dark enough he can't see.
"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asks in a groggy, scratchy voice that makes my skin pebble.
"I can sleep knowing you're on the hard floor."
"I told you, it's fine. I've slept on a lot worse." I can barely see his sweet smile in the darkness.
"Just because you have in the past doesn't mean it's OK to make you do it now." I turn over on my side and tuck my hands beneath my cheek. "That carpet is probably disgusting."
He chuckles, "Probably not as bad as the blanket."
I think for a minute about what it would mean if I offer him to sleep beside me. It's just a bed and we are both adults. It doesn't have to mean anything. "We can share the bed." He listens to my words and then lifts his head so that he can see me better.
"It's up to you." His tone lets me know there is no pressure and he won't be angry if I change my mind.
"Get up here before you contract an awful illness or skin disease down there." I laugh as I look to the spotted carpet and the threadbare fabric of the blanket on top of it. With a nod and a quick push-up, he's on his feet and headed for the other side of the bed. I roll over so I can watch him. I feel the mattress dip as his weight falls on it and he sets his pillow as far away from mine as possible.
"Thank you," he says as he situates himself on his back.
"Anything for a friend."
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When it's Over #Wattys2016Teen Fiction
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