TARGET: 95 VOTES🌟
Behind my closed eyelids, In the dimly lit room, the air grew heavy as an eerie silence enveloped everything. A lone figure stood in front of a flickering TV, its screen casting an unsettling glow. Suddenly, a chilling breeze swept through, causing the curtains to rustle ominously. I felt my body fluttering as I cocooned myself inside the blanket. In the nightmare, reality and dream clashed, making it impossible for me to distinguish.
The image of the little girl from the movie flashed in front of my eyes, and when those scars and sores opened up on her face to reveal red blood and putrid rims, I woke up from the terrifying nightmare.
The sweat clung to my body, and my breathing was harsh. I wiggled my toes inside the comforter to check if my body was still intact.
I chanted Hanuman Chalisa, muttering the well-hearted words under my breath.
My heart was working overtime, beating way out of its league.
The fact that I was on the verge of wetting my bed like an infant was embarrassing and utterly mortifying. The AC made the temperature of the room cold but my body still felt burning hot.
This was the reason why I stirred away from horror movies. The visuals my mind conjured up every night for the week after it, made it impossible for me to sleep a wink.
I wanted to call my mom, she was always the one who knew how to settle me and lull me back to sleep whenever I struggled with it.
But calling her three at night would be selfish. I didn't want to disturb her even though I was pretty sure she would pick up my call in a single ring.
I shouldn't have fallen into the ego trap.
The sound of my sigh hung heavily in the air, as I contemplated my options, closing my eyes.
Bad move.
The picture of the little possessed girl flickered in front of me, as soon as my eyes shut. An icy chill passed from the tip of my fingers to my neck.
Shaking my head, I opened my eyes instantly.
It was an early morning day for me tomorrow. Sleep was necessary. I would be like a walking zombie if I didn't sleep tonight, scaring people in my office right and left.
Still hiding inside the blanket, I took one hand out and searched for my phone on the nightstand beside the bed.
I dialed Aryan's number, waiting for him to pick it up. Through the walls, I could hear the ringtone of his phone from his room in the eerie silence. I chewed on my nail nervously.
A groggy and sleepy yet titillating voice reverberated through the phone, "What happened?"
"I can't sleep. It's your fault."
"My fault? I don't think so. It was your ego which made you watch the movie and now you are scared. I can hear it in your voice."
"Shut up."
"Okay. I am shut up."
Seconds passed in silence before I thought that the line was cut, but when I checked, it was still on.
"Aryan..."
"I am shut up."
"Stop this," I said, my voice coming out to be whiny.
"What do you want me to do?" He sighed. "Sing you a lullaby?"
"No need to be snarky with me."
I heard some shuffling on his side and a knock on my door was the answer.
"It's unlocked," I hollered.
With a soft click the door opened.
"If I knew I will have to wake up at midnight, I would have happily gone through the torture of watching the movie of your choice."
Aryan came into view, rubbing away the remnants of sleep from his eyes with the heel of his palm. His tousled hair framed the chiseled jawline, covered in a faint day-old stubble. The play of shadows danced across his defined muscles, casting an alluring contrast against his bare smooth, tanned skin.
My mouth suddenly seemed too dry to come up with words.
"Should have grabbed a shirt," He murmured, snapping his fingers in front of me. My eyes slowly trailed from his arms to his face.
"Uh..I-"I stuttered, "I wasn't able to sleep," I end with a mutter.
"I gathered that much," He replied drily.
"This was a bad idea. I am sorry for disturbing your sleep. You can go," I huffed.
He rolled his eyes and came to sit beside me on the bed. "Your mom once told me that she sings to you when you can't sleep."
My gaze snapped toward him, as he continued, clearly amused, "Never took you to be a momma's girl."
I scoffed, "As if you are any better. I doubt if you have ever said no to anything your mom says."
"We are missing a point here," He razzed. "This is about you. Not me. You want me to sing to you?"
"My ears are precious to me. Thank you very much."
He looked offended. "You forget that you are talking to the brother of the biggest rock star in the country. I might not sing as well as him, but I know a thing or two about it."
Stretching his legs, he took his sweet time settling comfortably and resting against the pillow. "You look like a burrito roll," He remarked, tugging at the hem of the blanket which covered every part of me except my head.
I loosened my hold, letting it slip away from my shoulders and onto my lap. The white tank top I wore was barely held up with the thin spaghetti strands, clinging to my skin through the sweat. I crossed my arms in front, to cover up.
The chilly air of the AC made goosebumps rise on my skin. "I was panicked when I called you. I am quite okay now. You can leave."
He rolled to lie on his stomach, peering up at me.
His hand inched towards mine, which rested on my thigh, just below the hem of my night shorts. His gaze trailed from my face to the nightstand.
"Tell me about that book you are reading currently," He said, his attention flickering between me and the book that lay bookmarked on the stand.
He was trying to distract me. Picking it up, I let my finger linger on the rib of the book, as my thumb traced the explicit cover titled Consider Me. The picture was of a man with beads of water on his chest and neck and a thick luscious beard.
"One minute, you are scared. In the next, you are turned on, just looking at the cover of some novel. This is giving me a whiplash," He teased.
His thumb stalked gentle patterns on the top of my thigh, making my breath come out in small puffs. I wanted to shout at him to stop doing it because these butterfly touches were what making slick rise between my thighs, not the novel.
"So..." He urged.
The connections in my brain barely started working again when I replied, "Oh..."
He looked at me with a stupid grin on his lips, as if making fun of me.
"I wasn't turned on," I retorted weakly.
He hummed. "You were telling me about the book."
"It's about-" I licked my dry lips, trying to come up with something and movement seemed to catch his attention.
I breathed in deeply, looking away from his smoldering watch. "It's a hockey romance."
"Is that a euphemism for something dirty?" He asked, as his eyes glinted with mischief.
"You have such a single-track mind," I shook my head, "It's the category of Romance novels where the main character is an NHL player. But this one is a little different."
"How so?" He asked curiously.
"In this, both the guy and the girl are hockey players. I am only a couple of chapters in, but it's quite a..." My heartbeat hitched when he took hold of my wrist to turn my hand and laced our fingers together.
"It's quite a...?"
The small bedside lamp formed a faint golden halo around us, like a secret bubble of illusion, embraced in a magical cross of heat and glaze.
"Quite a nice read."
The distance between us was negligible, and the barrier of clothes was minimal with the thin, almost nonexistent night clothes.
His eyes were fervent and prying when he asked, "I always wondered, how come you read so many romance novels but then you say that you don't believe in love. The ideas don't quite match."
"The real-life experiences I have had with romance have not been very pleasant, to say the least." I shrugged.
He thought for a second before saying, "Let me guess. Some bastard broke your heart and now you think all men are pigs?"
"That's such an exaggerated statement. And no, some bastard did not break my heart. Because I never gave any bastard the chance to break my heart in the very first place. Never been in a relationship. It's not for me."
"How do you know it's not for you when you have never experienced it?"
"You are a curious little beaver today, aren't you?" I smiled slightly.
"Don't wanna talk about it?"
I sighed, shaking my head. "I am too sleepy to have such life-altering, deep conversations now," I said, trying to lighten the situation.
He untangled our hands and shuffled a little to finally settle his head on my lap. The warmth of his breath fluttered across the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.
"Any plans for the new year?"
I was confused by his question. "It's still a month away. I don't know. Why are you asking?"
"Aman is getting married on New Year's Eve," He said, referring to his cousin. "Mom wanted to confirm our attendance."
"How many days?"
"Celebrations would start on Christmas and then continue for the week after that."
"That's a long time commitment. I will have to see."
"Uh-huh." With his gaze trained on the ceiling, he asked, "Will you be able to sleep alone tonight?"
His words were quiet and slurred and I felt bad for waking him up when he was clearly so tired.
"I-I can't. The nightmares would return."
He kicked my body pillow off the bed. Before I could protest, he adjusted himself on the pillow beside mine and pulled me toward his sleeping form. My legs instinctively folded, as I nestled closer to his warm body. With our limbs intertwined, he felt more cozy than any body pillow I have ever had.
I tried to wiggle out of his arms but his grip was too strong.
"That's-" He hushed me by placing a finger on my lips.
"Sleep."
Pulling the comforter up to cover our bodies, he switched off the lamp. His arm encircled my waist, tightening me snugly against his chest.
I tried not to think about the intimacy of the position with his unclad torso clinging like a glove to my back. Before my breathing slowed and I slipped into the world of slumber, I felt him caress my hair softly and a whisper echoed, "Good night."
***
Sorry for the delayed update. I haven't been feeling well, physically and mentally lately🤧.
Anyways, the single-bed trope is my favorite 🤭...Hope you liked the chapter!
TARGET: 95 VOTES🌟
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