“I should probably go.” Lark begins to move off the bed, but I grab his hand. He takes a few breaths before turning toward me. And when he does, his eyes plead with mine.
“Lay with me? Just for a little bit.”
His eyes look to the door and he doesn’t answer. I can see warring emotions on his face. He seems to be weighing our odds.
I impatiently wait for his answer, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. He squeezes it, still watching the door.
After agonizingly long seconds, he kisses the top of my hand and walks to the door, closing it with a soft click.
Walking to the bed and pulls back the covers, slides into bed. He lies down next to me, slipping his arm behind my head, pulling me close to his body. I wrap my arm around his torso and entangle my legs with his.
I want to believe this could be easy. I want to pretend it wouldn’t be complicated as hell. So, instead of dwelling on what can’t happen, I lay my head on his chest, breathe in his unique, woodsy scent, that’ll I’ll never be able to forget, and listen to his heartbeat. He kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering for a long moment, and rubs my back in a gentle circular motion.
Before I know it, I’m fast asleep in Lark’s arms.
And when I wake later in the morning, the only sign that he was ever in my bed is the indention his body left in the sheets and his scent on my pillow.
Oh…and my memory.