The Heartbreak Hypothesis

15 - sleep ins and science labs

James was my pillow.

I was cuddling—and kissing—James.

I bolted upright, the abruptness of the movement causing my vision to cloud over in white, bright flashes. I pressed a hand to my head, shading my eyes from the morning light streaming in from the window behind me. The memory of a hollow pain danced through my fingertips, nagging through the drowsiness cloaking my mind.

"Morning, Watson," James uttered, his voice raspier than usual.

I jerked around to face him, my vision slowly rethreading. He was peering at me through his golden hair—not a single strand disturbed during his slumber, might I add. A stark contrast to mine, I realized bitterly, which had tangled itself into a complete bird's nest.

"Why did you let me sleep here?" I asked.

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up onto his arm. His arm, corded with muscle, tensed under the weight, and it occurred to me that that arm had just been slung over my waist. Occurred to me at the exact moment that the flipping in my stomach curled a bit lower.

James' chiseled features glistened in the morning sun as he drew a long, sobering breath, still seemingly caught on the fringes of content nothingness himself. The beginnings of light stubble dotted his sharp jawline. "Would you have preferred it if I kicked you out?" he asked, voice ruffled by sleep. "Threw you into the hall?"

I reined in an eye roll, but amusement flashed in his sleepy eyes, the outline of a charming smile teasing his lips, like he sensed my irritation—and like he liked that he'd gotten under my skin. Actually, I didn't know how a person could possibly look that charming first thing in the morning. How long had he been awake? Oh, god, did he ...

My stomach knotted, then sunk. Did he feel me snuggling into him? Kissing him? It'd been a game between Eli and me; whoever woke up first would kiss the other one awake. I hated that I'd reverted to such an old, stupid habit. Hated that I'd done it with James. Oh, god. Oh god god god—

"Besides," he added, "you're so pleasant when you're sleeping. It was a nice change."

And there goes the charm.

Heat pricked my cheeks, his inference registering in my brain. An image of me, asleep, nestled into that far-too-small space between James and his bedroom wall. An image of him, probably irritated as all hell, having to put up with me practically pinning him down to the bed for the sake of civility.

I scanned the room, trying to look anywhere but at James or his stupidly handsome grin. Dex's bed was empty, but the jacket he'd worn on his date with Holly was draped over his desk chair. Which meant that, at some point, he'd been back. He'd seen us.

I was mortified. I wanted to throw James' expensive quilt over my head and die.

Instead, I turned to reach for my phone, masking my embarrassment behind my tangled hair.

A knot of dread tangled in my stomach as I recovered my mobile, the memory of what had transpired between James and Elijah racing through my mind. There was a very good chance that Eli, in true Eli style, had flooded me with angry text messages during the night. There was an even better chance of him running to my mother and her berating me on his behalf. And then she would ask about James, and why he was in my room, and ... Oh, God.

I swallowed my fear and dared myself to press down on the home button. To my surprise, though, the screen remained black. I pressed it again. Still, nothing.

I groaned loudly. Of course. My impromptu journey into dreamland meant that I'd probably left my phone on all night. AKA, I hadn't charged it. AKA, the battery was drained. The only thing worse than facing those inevitable texts was not facing them, was lingering in the unknown as my fears spiraled and dread compounded. Why, why, why had I fallen asleep?