"Move it little to the left," the big giant laying next to me demanded, and rolling my eyes, I did as asked. "No, that's not right, try the right."
"Brayden, I've moved your damn pillow six times now," I told him, glaring at him.
"And it's still not how I left it," he replied, a putout pout on his face.
"If you don't go to sleep, I am going to use that pillow to suffocate you," I grumbled, and flipped the bedside table lamp off, snuggled into my pillow, and closed my eyes again.
"Fine, then you be the big spoon," he replied, turning in the bed to give me his back, and probably waiting for me to do the same, so he could be the small spoon.
Even though I'd told him he was only sleeping over that one night, that rule had quickly gone out the window, and I found myself waiting up for him, and only falling asleep until his body was curled around mine. That night was no different, except for the big giant not being able to fall asleep because according to him I'd moved his pillow and it wasn't how he liked it anymore.
"Are you gonna be the big spoon or are you gonna share that pillow?" I groaned when his voice drifted towards me in the dark room. Turning around, I scooted as close as I could and wrapped an arm around him, burrowing my nose in his neck.
"Are you happy now, you big baby?" I mumbled against his skin, and he sighed.
"No, turn over, I don't like being the little spoon," he replied, and I growled.
"We're not moving, Cavanaugh, so lay your ass down and go to bed." Snuggling closer to him, I sighed and let my eyes fall shut, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to me.
A few minutes of silence went by, but I held my breath of relief, knowing that he was still buzzing with way too much energy at this hour of the night, but I still hoped he'd fall asleep soon. When his breath wasn't evening out after a couple of minutes, I knew for a fact he wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon, and if he couldn't sleep, I couldn't either.
"Brayden, why aren't you falling asleep?" I mumbled almost on a whine. I was so damn tired, I almost felt like crying with each passing second that I wasn't peacefully sleeping.
Turning around in the bed to face me, a sliver of streetlight slipping through the cracks of the curtains, illuminating his face, he pouted, making me roll my eyes. "I'm not tired."
"But I am," I whined this time, and he gave me the biggest sad eyes I've ever seen, and I sighed, tiredly. "Okay, fine...Tell me something no one knows."
He thought about it for a moment, his brow crinkling. "I cheated on a quiz once just to see if I would get caught."
I laughed, staring at him in disbelief, "Really?"
He nodded.
"Well did you?" I asked, and he shook his head no, a proud grin on his face. I covered my mouth when I started laughing a little louder than I probably should be. "So what was your grade?"
"A plus," he replied, smirking. "Your turn."
Sucking in a breath, I grimaced. "I once stole a pack of gum from a store, and felt so bad about it, that I went to another store, bought two packs of gum and returned both to the store I stole the first one from."
He let out a short laugh, grinning at me. "Why won't you show me your paintings?"
My eyes widened at the sudden change of subject, a nervous smile on my face. "What are you talking about, you saw them yesterday, remember?"
"I'm not talking about the ones at school," he replied, raising an eyebrow, and making my heart speed up in my chest.
"Self-conscious?" I squeaked. I tried not to growl at how squeak my voice sounded, or how my face contorted into a wince that was a dead giveaway.
"You're a terrible liar, Pinocchio," he mused, tapping my nose, making my eyes squint, playfully. "Why the secret? Are they all of me? They're naked portraits, aren't they? I was right-"
Seeing no other way to make him forget what he was talking about, I pressed my lips against his, effectively cutting off the rest of his sentence.
Moving his hand to rest on my cheek, he angled his head to deepen the kiss, a moan escaping his lips. Using my free hand, I gripped his wrist and pulled him impossibly closer, a sigh on my lips as his hard body molded into mine, one of my legs slipping in between his. At this point, I didn't know where I began and he ended.
Before I knew what was happening, he'd flipped me on my back and hovered over me, his hand slowly moving down my side, until it was gripping the bottom of my knee. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him down until his body was pressed onto mine, and I could feel every inch of him.
Gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, I sighed, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. He tasted like spearmint and, as cliche as it sounded, something else that was all him. It wasn't so much of a taste but more of a feeling. Kissing him invoked something in me that I'd never felt before. It was intoxicating, and I found my back arching, my body trying to get closer to him, wanting more.
"Wait a minute," he pulled away suddenly, and I fought a whimper, my body lifting off of the bed, involuntarily, chasing after him, "I feel like you're trying to distract me..."
I gave him a guilty smile, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. "No?"
He smirked, "Does it make me your bitch if I could give two shits? It does, doesn't it?"
I couldn't help but laugh, and nod. "Yes, it does." Threading my fingers through his hair, I scratched his scalp lightly, making him sigh contentedly.
"Are you ever going to show me your paintings?" he asked, giving me a small smile, and I pulled my lip between my teeth with a shrug.
"Or we could just make out?"
"As much as I would love to do that," he paused, his eyes straying to my lips, eyelids drooping, his pupils blown wide, he pulled in a breath, his eyes meeting mine, "I want to know everything there is to know about you. I want to know what makes you tick, what makes you laugh," he leaned down to nuzzle his nose in my neck, making me giggle, "and I know how important your paintings are to you."
"They are," I mumbled, wrapping my arm around his shoulder. "And I want you to see them...I just...I'm not ready, yet."
He nodded, solemnly. "Okay."
I smiled gratefully, relief coursing through me that he wasn't pushing me. I wanted him to see them, I did, even if they were mostly of him. Painting was one of the few things that made everything make sense in my life. It was one of those things that just seemed right, it didn't matter what happened during my day, as long as I had a brush and canvas, I could look forward to something at the end of my day.
Brayden, unbeknownst to him, had become a close second to that. As long as he was in my life, I felt invincible. Like anything could happen, and somehow I'd still be okay. So I wanted to share that with him. I wanted him to be a part of one of the most important things in my life. It was a dangerous line to walk, especially with someone like Brayden, but I couldn't help but let myself hope. Hope that I could be okay.
"Hey," he whispered, drawing my attention back to him, "where did you go?"
Shaking my head, I smiled, taking him in. I felt my heart jump in my chest, squeezing as I stared at him. He was oh so perfect. It hurt like hell to know that eventually I would lose him. My heart knew he wasn't mine to keep. He'd never been, and never would be, and that thought alone make me sick to my stomach, and want to curl up in a ball and cry.
"Pinocchio?" He whispered, vehemently, worry clouding his features. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I shook my head, physically pushing those depressing thoughts away for now. "Do you want to try going to sleep now? We have to be up early tomorrow."
Hesitating, he stared at me for a minute, worriedly, and forcing a smile, I reached up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, hoping he'd drop any incoming questions. I hated lying to him, and really didn't have the energy to try anymore.
Nodding, he slid off me, laying next to me, keeping an arm over my stomach, and burying his face in my neck.
"Can I ask you for a favor?" He mumbled against my skin, and I nodded, swallowing past the lump in my throat and the ache in my chest.
"Come to my game on Friday," he replied, surprising me. Turning to face him in the dark, I lifted an eyebrow.
"Why?"
He shrugged, tracing shapes on my stomach with his finger. "I just want you there."
I sighed. "Brayden..."
"You don't think it's a good idea," he finished for me, moving up on the bed until our faces were inches apart, "please?"
I closed my eyes, knowing damn well that I would give him anything he wanted. I'd do anything to make him happy, and if that meant going to his game and ignoring the glares and whispers, then hell, I'd done it before, there was no way in hell I wouldn't try for him. "Okay, but I'm not wearing your Jersey like some cheesy fifteen year old freshman with no real dreams or wishes other than her boyfriend's success."
He chuckled, making tingles go down my spine. "Mhmm, that's too bad since I think you'd look so hot with my Jersey on."
"Of course you do, you're a pervert," I snorted, and he huffed out a laugh, kissing my neck.
"Only when it comes to you," he replied, his arm tightening around me, and I turned my head, slightly, to press my lips to his forehead. "Thank you."
I smiled. "For what?"
He shrugged, and sighing happily, he snuggled closer, burying his face in my neck. "For letting me use you as a pillow."
"I never agreed to that," I laughed, quietly, "to be honest I'm still trying to figure out how one night of you sleeping in my bed is now a regular thing."
"Oh you don't remember?" He replied, mischievously, and I couldn't help my snort, shaking my head. "It's kind of sweet really. You practically begged me one night over the phone, claimed you couldn't sleep without my huge, strong arms wrapped around you. I gave in, knowing that I couldn't stand by and let you suffer so."
"And I suppose I'm just eternally grateful that you're letting me sleep in your big, strong arms?" I mused, unable to fight a smile as he hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of my jaw.
"Yes, you are, I think you even promised to buy me dinner," he sniffed, confidently. "Dessert included."
"Mhmm, how generous of me," I replied, grinning.
"Uh huh, definitely is." He pressed a trail of Eskimo kisses along my jaw, his tongue peaking out to lick the spot right below my ear, making a needy gasp leave my parted lips.
I hummed, distracted as he pressed his lips to my neck, gently sucking the tender spot near my ear. When he pulled back, pressing a kiss to the same spot, a satisfied hum leaving his lips, my eyes widened. "Did you just give me a hickey, Brayden?"
"Yup."
"What?" Slapping my hand on his chest, I reached toward my nightstand, my hand moving over the surface, haphazardly, searching for the mirror I kept on top. When my hand finally fell on the cold surface of the small metal mirror, I clutched it, flipped the lamp switch on my bedside table back on, and brought the mirror up to my line of vision, aiming it at the spot on my neck.
A gasp left my lips at the red spot on my neck that I knew would turn purple by the morning. "How am I going to hide that, asshole?"
He shrugged, nonchalantly, and I slapped my hand on his chest again. Grabbing the hand mid-air, he brought it up to his lips and pressed a kiss on the inside of my wrist. "I could always give you a matching one on the other side, so it has a buddy."
"Yeah, not happening," I told him, placing the mirror back on the nightstand. "You know I'll have to explain this to my mom, right?"
"Mhm, you accidentally got into it with the wrong vacuum?" He suggested, grinning smugly, and I gave him an unimpressed look. Lowering his head, he pressed a brief kiss on my nose and then on my scowling lips.
"I'm definitely getting you back for this," I warned him, squinting my eyes at him threateningly.
His grin widened, "Didn't we talk about how your threats only turn me on?"
"Maybe we should take you to a psychiatrist?" I suggested, patting his cheek, placatantly. Snorting, he buried his nose in my neck, knipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth, and making me laugh.
"If I'm going to a shrink, you're definitely joining me, since you're the reason behind my sudden affinity to girls with sharp objects and colorful threats," he mumbled, his lips moving against my skin, and I chuckled, slapping his shoulder.