“Where’s Candace?” I ask as I hand him his coffee and set the bag of food on the coffee table.
“She’s sleeping. When I got here, I checked in your room, and she was passed out, so I shut the door so I wouldn’t wake her.”
“She’s got to be tired as hell. She hardly sleeps.” I sit down next to Mark and lean back into the couch, kicking my feet up on the table.
When I let out a deep breath, Mark pulls me into his arms, and I let him. I can hear his heart thudding in his chest, and I wrap my arms around him and just lie there. I’m tired as hell too. Candace keeps me up most of the night, and I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks. Mark doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really need to, so I shut my eyes while he holds me and watches TV. His is the only touch that has ever comforted me like this. It’s so different coming from him, and I try to shut out that awkward run-in with my past. There is too much other stuff going on right now to let crap like that get to me.
Mark’s arms squeeze tight around me, and the pressure wakes me up.
“Hey, you need to get back to campus for your class,” he says softly, but being here, wrapped up in him, I couldn’t care less about school.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he teases, and I know he can tell what I want, so I pull him down to me and kiss him. I keep my lips on his, needing to feel his touch. These past few days have drained me, and having this quiet time with him, although short, has given me solid ground to land on, and I needed it.
Removing my lips from his, but not wanting to, I whisper, “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“This,” I say, and he drops his mouth to mine but removes it too fast.
“You need to go.”
I nod my head and push myself off the couch. “You gonna stay?”
“Yeah. I’ll stay.”
I grab my bag and lean down to give him another quick kiss, just needing one last taste before I leave.
The next couple of days are pretty much the same. Candace is still at my place, taking the week off from school and work. She emailed her professors to tell them she was out sick, and Roxy didn’t question her when she called to tell her the same thing earlier this week.
I spoke to Candace last night about calling the doctor to see about getting something to help her sleep. I thought she’d put up a fight, but she didn’t. I think she’s just so sleep-deprived that she would do anything to get some rest. Last night, I woke up to see her still awake; I know she was fighting sleep. She told me she was scared to dream. I hurt so much for her, but have been keeping everything bottled up. I feel like I’m at my breaking point.
I’m driving home from my last class before the weekend starts. Candace mentioned going home on Monday, but I wish she would stay with me. She says that she needs to get back to her normal life. I know it’s her way of avoiding, and I didn’t question her. She still hasn’t talked about that night, and she refuses to see a therapist. I wish she would talk, but she doesn’t.
When I walk in my living room, I’m shocked to see Mark sitting on the couch with Candace.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just hanging out,” he says as if this is a normal thing for him to be here while I’m out.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Is that a problem?” he asks, concerned.
I smile as I walk over to Candace, kiss her head, and then look to Mark, saying, “It’s never a problem. I’ll be right back; I’m gonna go change.”
I toss my bag in my closet and grab some clothes to go for a quick run when Candace walks in.
“How was your afternoon?” I ask her.
“It was okay. Mark’s been here to keep me company.”
Walking over to her as she’s sitting on my bed, I look at her cuts then kiss her cheek, “Your face is looking better.”
She nods and runs her hand down the side of her cheek when I continue, “Well, I’m glad he had time to stop by.”
“Me too. He came by a couple of times yesterday when he was in between classes as well.”
I turn around and slip my shirt on when she says this. “What?”
“What?” she questions in confusion.
“He was here yesterday too?”
“Yeah, I thought you knew. I thought maybe you told him to check in on me.”
“No.” I can’t believe he’s been coming over here to spend time with her. The fact that he would do that, on his own because he wanted to and not because I asked him to, surprises me. It’s apparent that he cares for her, and knowing that she has him, the only other person who knows what she’s going through, gives me reassurance that he’s different—he’s special. I’ve always known he is, but realizing he cares that much about me, to care that much for her, fills something inside of me I wasn’t aware was empty.
“He really likes you, you know?”
Lacing up my shoes, I say, “I really like him too.”
When I stand up and look at her, she’s just staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“If you feel that way, then why did you kiss me and not him?”
“When?”
“Just a minute ago when you walked in.”
I drop my head before I look up at her. “It’s not that easy for me.”
“What’s not easy?”
“Having people see me this way. Having you see me this way.”