so quiet? Do I want something from him? Should he be more on edge?
Every time, I just mention something about the show. Not him or our relationship or my expectations. No past or future. Just us, chilling on his bed, watching TV like normal people.
“Is this what you do at night?” he asks after an episode ends. I smile at how he rolls to his side like a giant kid too lazy to sit up.
“We watch a lot of movies. Some TV shows. When the weather is nice, we sit out in the back so the kids and dogs can play.”
“I sit outside and let the world go by.”
“Can’t you do that at my house tomorrow during the barbecue? Sure, you’ll need to wear pants. Otherwise, you can ignore everyone and enjoy a free meal.”
“I don’t know,” he mutters, assuming the worst.
“If you don’t want to hang out with us, that’s fine. Hugh might cry, but I’ll be way more mature and not bitchy at all.”
Goliath doesn’t want to smile. He starts to, changes his mind, and ends up looking snarly. I run my fingers over his lips and then look at the screen.
“I sleep with the TV on at night. Will that be a problem?”
“Yomp.”
“The real question is, will it be a bigger problem for you to sleep with it on or for me to sleep with it off?”
“Me.”
“Then I’ll sleep with it off.”
Goliath frowns because now he feels guilty. I see it on his face. He hates getting played, which is too bad since I’d very much like to win here. But he’s too damn sexy when relaxed for me to deny his needs.
“I normally sleep alone, which is probably why I need the TV on. Tonight, I’ll have your snoring to reassure me.”
Goliath surprises me by winking before turning over to watch TV. Just like that, he’s relaxed again. What the actual fuck? Is he really an easygoing guy? Did prison and assholes turn him into a high-strung jerk? If so, I’ll do my darndest to keep this man as relaxed as possible for the rest of his life.
THE GOLIATH
I end up giving in to Shelby’s desire to leave the TV on. She doesn’t nag. She seems relaxed as it gets late, especially after she crawls on top of me for a last-chance fuck.
Even if she’s okay with the darkness, I get an image in my head of her falling down on her way to the bathroom. She’s used to having enough light to move around. That’s why I leave the TV on with the sound down low. Shelby slides deeper under the blankets and smiles at me.
“Good night, Dean,” she whispers, making real clear how I did right by having her stay over.
I haven’t shared a bed with a woman in a long fucking time. With Jaymes, I’d usually turned away from her and hope she didn’t bug me during the night.
With Shelby, I want to face her. Not only because the view is great, but I want to be sure she isn’t scared. Her love of horror movies and fear of ghosts might seem dumb to me, but those things are real to her. If she feels unsafe, she won’t want to stay over again.
Shelby falls asleep quickly, which I take as a good sign. I watch her for a long time as the flashing TV screen lights her face. How many nights did I lie in the dark and wonder about her sleeping miles away? Now I have Shelby Campbell within reach. I even run my fingers over her forehead. When she isn’t bothered by my touch, I caress her lips. I feel a smile on my face. It’s fucking dumb, but I can’t take my eyes off her.
I finally sleep. Shelby’s talk of horror movies probably explains why I dream of something prowling outside the trailer. Inside, she cries in the bathroom, saying she’s bleeding and the baby’s dead. What did I expect to happen? Life don’t give a shit about me.
In the dream, I ignore her and focus on what’s outside the trailer. Except it’s dark, and I can’t see anything. Swamp Thing sits at the kitchen table, eating my leftover pizza. I can’t think with him smacking his lips so loud.
I wake up agitated over Swamp Thing being so close to Shelby. Did he kill my kid in the dream? Doesn’t matter. It’s just a nightmare.
Next to me, Shelby relaxes on her stomach. She looks so comfortable, and I start to