I Know What Sin Is

Chapter 9

I dreaded opening my eyes, even though I could see sunlight through them.

I dreaded moving at all because I could still feel Michael's arm across my chest, meaning he was here too, next to me. I wanted to believe that I was staying still like this so I wouldn't have to face him and not because I liked the feeling of him holding me, but I couldn't.

I liked it a lot.

What I didn't like was the fact that we sleeping in bed together like some married couple.

I turned a little, testing the waters, and watched him stretch and flop over onto his side, lost somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. This created a sort of problem for me, since he flopped over onto me and I suddenly became trapped. His weight was suffocating. The guy must seriously be two hundred pounds. I widened my eyes as he nuzzled into my neck, the tip of his cold nose tracing over my skin.

"Um," I said. "Michael?"

He either ignored me or didn't hear me, because he just continued doing this until he had settled his face comfortably between my shoulder and jaw. His eyes were still closed, and I wondered if maybe he was completely asleep.

I contemplated kicking him.

He sighed, his hand sliding up across my hip. It was extremely awkward because he seemed to be slipping back into sleep and now I was lying here, growing more awake by the millisecond. In every context.

"Michael," I finally snapped, slamming my elbow into his side. "Get off me." It was enough of a shove to push him back the way he'd come from, and I seized the opportunity to escape.

He groaned and rolled onto his back, blinking open his eyes. They were shining and blue and wet with sleep. "Hi, sweetie," he whispered groggily. Like we did this all the time.

"Hi," I muttered.

"Whasa matter?" he yawned, barely looking at me.

Everything inside me hurt. I could never erase the image of me crying hysterically from his mind. He could taunt me every day for the next two years if he felt like it. "This... feels weird," I said quietly.

A slow half-smile formed on his lips. "Because I'm a guy?"

"I don't think so," I said honestly. "I think you can go crawl in bed with someone and be so... casual about it and I can't." The only person I'd ever really slept in a bed with was Sarah, and that was in my younger years.

He flicked his eyes up to my face. "So, what... you're in love with me?"

I could feel my cheeks burn and I wondered if it was noticeable. "No," I snapped. "I don't like you at all. You're a fucking asshole."

He nodded slowly. "You've said that," he said. "I happen to think you're pretty cool, but I don't really know much about you."

I bit my lip and freed my leg from the sheet, then slowly entwined it around his, our skin still separated by the cotton of his sweatpants. "Put your arms back around me," I said.

He said nothing, just outstretched his arm and curled it under me while I pressed myself against him. I felt closer to him now than last night.

And now, in the light, I could see every detail of his face. His high, prominent cheekbones, his shaped brows, unruly enough to be masculine and yet perfectly fitting his face, his surprisingly long eyelashes, his sharp jawline. The shadow of stubble over his top lip from the night. He was pretty and still manly. I think I would have actually killed to look like him.

"Do you like looking at me?" he said, smiling.

I blinked and looked away. "I dunno," I mumbled awkwardly.