Until Alex - J. Nathan Page 0,53

and as if I wasn’t even there, she rolled away from me, scrunching her entire body into a tiny ball that fit under the T-shirt I gave her.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Don’t get upset. Not with me.”

“Do I need to run through the reasons my life sucks right now?” She sounded so defeated. So lost. “And add to it the fact that the only person I can rely on is you. You. Who can’t even trust me. Or be seen with me. I’ve never been so confused and alone in my entire life. It sucks. Majorly sucks.” She dispelled a deep breath. “And just so you know, if I want to thank you, I’m going to thank you.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. I got it. Her confusion. Her loneliness. Her sadness. I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do to fix it.

How had it gotten to this point? How had I become her protector? Being anyone’s seemed laughable. But here I was. Here we were. Alex and me against the world. For so long my life solely revolved around me. My wants. My needs. My anger. My problems.

I sat for a long while staring at my bare walls. What would my life be like if my mother hadn’t been killed? If I hadn’t spent almost eight years in foster care bouncing from house to house? If I hadn’t met Remy? If I hadn’t sat down at that picnic table?

It had been eleven years since I had anything real in my life. Eleven years since I knew what it felt like to care about another human being. Eleven years since I truly smiled.

Ah, hell.

I pushed off my sneakers and slid under the comforter behind Alex. Like the last time we slept in bed together, I wrapped my arms around her tiny waist and buried my nose in her vanilla-scented curls. She didn’t seem to mind the intrusion, but she made no attempt to give my bigger body more space. “Martin.”

“What?” she mumbled into my pillow.

“My last name.”

She shook with silent laughter. In the midst of such a shitty day, I liked knowing I caused it.

“I just turned twenty-two.”

Her soft hands covered mine, linking our fingers together. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks.”

“You look older.”

“I’ve been through a lot.”

Her body tensed. She wanted to ask what I meant. What I’d been through. What I kept hidden from everyone. But instead, she relaxed on an exhale. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me.”

And there it was. The difference between Alex and everyone else in my life. She expected nothing. And while I was pretty certain I’d never be able to share my personal shit with her—with anyone for that matter—it was getting easier sharing the smaller stuff. And it clearly made her happy when I did. “I’ve never slept with your aunt.”

“Thank God,” she groaned.

The relief in her voice did crazy things to my head. Did she intend to sleep with me? She had to realize me being there for her wasn’t about that.

Time stretched on as we lay in silence. It gave me time to think about all the time I’d spent alone. About all the nights I wasted getting drunk and sleeping with insignificant girls. About the last time I actually felt happy.

Alex’s breathing evened out, teetering on the precipice of sleep.

“Alex?” I whispered.

“Mmm,” she murmured softly.

“I don’t know what this is. This thing going on between us.” My voice came out hushed for fear of her reaction—make that rejection. “But I really need it.”

Her breath caught in her throat, disappearing completely for a long beat.

Then she squeezed my hands tightly and sighed. “Me, too, Hayden Martin. Me, too.”

ALEX

Sunlight squeezed through the gaps in Hayden’s curtains. I’d been awake for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of his body, and his vice grip holding my back to his front. His steady breathing at my ear indicated he hadn’t woken yet, so it gave me time to get my wits about me.

This thing going on between us…I really need it.

His flutter-inducing words replayed on a constant loop in my head. Sure, he didn’t say anything after his confession, but it didn’t erase the fact that it happened.

I glanced to the alarm clock on his nightstand. I only had an hour to get to campus. But could I do it? Could I face everyone knowing what they’d seen?

Was I tough enough to endure their whispers? Their judgment?

Was I strong enough to pretend it didn’t affect me?

Not even close.

I wiggled my rear end, knowing how well the approach