I got up and stood anxiously beside it.
“Who is it?” I asked teasingly.
“Bigfoot,” Dex answered from his room.
“What do you want, Mr. Foot?”
“Please, just call me Big.”
I snorted. “You wish.”
“You know.”
I really didn’t need to picture his dick at that moment.
“Dex?” I prodded.
“I think I saw a pizza joint when we rolled into town,” he said, voice muffled. “This is buttfuck Canada so I’m not sure we’ll have much more selection than that. I’m going to try and order in, do you want some?”
Being with Dex was doing hell to my waistline. Unlike him and his daily gym sessions, I couldn’t afford to keep eating junk. But we would be hiking for the next few days, so what the hell. I told him to get me whatever he wanted and in 30 minutes we were sitting cross-legged in his room, me on one bed and him on the other. We ate the thin pizza with its overdose of marinara sauce and flipped through the three crackly television channels until we were stuck watching a documentary on the CBC.
Despite the casual munchies and TV watching, sitting there with Dex wasn’t as comfortable as I would have hoped. He seemed content just to relax and kept oddly quiet, though the constant drumming of his fingers on his thigh suggested he had something on his mind. His face was ashen from the long drive, which might have explained why the witty and suggestive comments had dwindled. It sounded funny, but I kind of missed them. Though, when you thought about it, being in a cheap motel room together probably wasn’t the safest place for sexual sparring.
When the program was coming to an end, he gave a yawn, settling back into the stiff floral comforter.
I eyed the clock, which read 9pm.
“Hey, I think the hot tub is still open,” I suggested, recalling the tiny tub outside surrounded by a tall metal gate. “The sign said it closed at 10.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Did you bring a bathing suit with you?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “Well, no. But I have matching bra and underwear.”
He turned his attention back to the television. “So going commando was just a one-time thing, then.”
My cheeks burned at the memory. “You sure you don’t want to go?”
He frowned and glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “You’re being strangely insistent. I didn’t know you wanted me with my shirt off that badly.”
Bingo.
“What does your new tattoo say?” I pounced, unable to help myself.
His grin spread and he folded his hands behind his head, his black sweater lifting up slightly, showing off a tempting trail of hair and the dark waistband of his boxer briefs. “Oh, so you really do want to get my shirt off. I’m flattered, Perry. I thought it was just the other way around.”
I leaned over so I was at the edge of my bed, my eyes imploring his. “What does it say?”
He gave his head one shake. “You’ll find out in due time, kiddo.”
“Why is it a secret?”
His eyes shone as he tilted his head at me. “It’s not a secret. It’s a tattoo. And now it’s a bargaining chip.”
“Bargaining chip?” I didn’t like the sounds of this.
“Yes. I’ll show you my back if you show me yours.”
I straightened up. “Just my back?”
“Did I say back? I meant front.” His eyebrows wagged. “No bra.”
I crossed my arms and inched back. “You’re a jerk.”
He shrugged. “So I’ve heard.”
Even though I had mastered the art of glaring thanks to being around him, Dex looked totally amused and unaffected.
I quickly had to remind myself that I didn’t care.
“All right, well I’m going to go sleep,” I told him, getting up.
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he replied. “Knowing us, they’d probably be demonic.”
“Right,” I muttered and left Dex lying back on his bed, eyes on the ancient television, still and blasé except for the tapping of his fingers on the quilt. The tattoo remained a mystery. And, in a way, so did Dex.
Even though it was quite early, the drive had taken a toll on me too and after I had taken a hot shower from a woefully low-pressure faucet, I crawled right into bed. The foreign, scratchy bedsheets and unfamiliar darkness of the room didn’t even keep me up for more than a few minutes. This was a rarity, considering that ever since the possession, I hadn’t been sleeping well. And who could blame me, really. When you’ve had actual monsters under your bed, nighttime becomes that much scarier.
My sleep was dreamless. At least, I didn’t remember anything when I was awakened by an anguished cry from Dex’s room followed by a deafening thud that shook my walls and caused a painting on the wall to fall to the ground.
“Dex!” I yelled, bolting straight out of bed. I stumbled over the blanket and made my way blindly to the door between our rooms. I quickly unlocked my door and thankfully found his unlocked.
I shoved it open and burst into his room.
It couldn’t have been an eerier scene.
The room was dark except for a light coming from the bathroom vanity area. The light didn’t do much to illuminate the room, however, because a bed, the same bed I had been sitting on earlier, was flipped entirely over and propped up against the bathroom door.
Dex was standing in front of it, back to me, an unmoving silhouette in a weary pose.
“Dex,” I said cautiously, my heart in my throat. I walked carefully across the room, avoiding the bedding and pillows that had been scattered around.
I stopped right to the side of him. He was wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants and shaking lightly, from his loose fingers that hung down at his sides, all the way up to the flashing whites of his eyes. His gaze never left the flipped over mattress. He was staring at it like it was going to attack him any minute.
“Hey,” I whispered. He didn’t acknowledge me until I reached for him, touching his elbow. Then he jumped and spun around to face me, sucking in a giant rush of air. If he looked dazed before, now he was awake and aware.
And more afraid.
He shook harder, swallowing harder, as his eyes tried desperately to tell me something that his mouth couldn’t.
It scared the living shit out of me, causing my skin to prickle down my back.