Dylan puts the “full-time” in “full-time student.” That’s for damn sure. And Daphne has agreed to go back with him and Chastity on the weekends to help out.
Which means I’ll probably do the same sometimes, because I fall a little more stupid in love with Daphne every day. That’s me—falling for a girl who thinks she’s moving across the country a year from now.
I guess I’ll deal with that when it happens. For now, I’m going to enjoy her.
Although, since the night her family learned we’re a couple, we’ve barely spent any time alone together. Daphne doesn’t want to fool around in the house where her mother and grandfather might hear, and I don’t blame her.
So we haven’t found many moments of accidental solitude. Except for one fun night when we parked Dylan’s pickup truck on a deserted country road and had a quickie on the back seat. That was a good time. And now I get to tease Daphne about being a real Vermonter.
My foot is heavy on the gas pedal as the first Burlington exits finally appear. I’m eager to get back to the house—and sleep past six a.m. tomorrow morning for the first time in weeks.
“Almost there!” Daphne says from the passenger seat. She reaches over and gives my arm a happy squeeze. She seems lighter and happier than she’s been in a long time.
I like to imagine that I’m at least partially responsible. “What if we didn’t haul this stuff up to your room yet?” I ask. “We could collapse in my room and watch a movie instead.”
“Sure,” she says easily. “What do you want to watch?”
“Who cares? I’ll probably tune it out and strip you naked after the first ten minutes anyway.”
She laughs. “Okay, I’ll rephrase. What do you want to watch ten minutes of? Pick something exciting so I don’t pass out early.”
“Did I say ten minutes? I meant five.”
When we reach my house, the truck is in the driveway, but there’s nobody downstairs. Even Keith’s door is shut when I troop upstairs to drop a box of clothes on Daphne’s new floor.
“I don’t know if I can live in such a noisy house,” Daphne whispers when I return to the first floor.
“I know, right?”
She puts a box of books down in the living room. “Can I park this here for now?”
“Of course. You want a beer? I stocked up on Wednesday.”
“I’ll just have a sip of yours,” she says, yawning.
I steer her toward my room. “Pick a show to watch. I’ll be right there.”
A few minutes later, we’re both nestled comfortably in my bed. We’re watching one of those singing competition shows, because when Daphne had flipped past the channel, someone was covering “Like I’m Gonna Lose You” by Meghan Trainor.
“Yours was better,” she’d said. And now we’re watching a fourteen-year-old girl sing an opera aria.
Or—wait—I am. Daphne is asleep. She’s snuggled onto my chest, eyelashes curled down to her cheeks, breathing peacefully.
I sip my beer and watch the silly show. Having Daphne here in my room is exactly what my heart wants. But I’m still that guy who can’t fall asleep with company. Last time this happened, I’d solved the problem by going to sleep in her room.
And maybe I’ll have to do that again. But I’m not going down without a fight.
So I slide out from beneath her and get ready for bed. I shut all the lights off, and check all the locks on the doors. Then I go into my room and close that door too. I lock it, of course.
When I’m lifting the covers, Daphne rolls over. But she doesn’t wake up. She only sighs deeply.
I strip down and lie beside her, closing my eyes. I’m so tired. My muscles ache. And I just want to do this simple thing that other people can do—fall asleep in a bed where someone else is. This is so peaceful, I tell myself. There are so many people I care about under this roof.
Logic doesn’t always matter, though. Ask anyone with a phobia.
Tonight, the message seems to be penetrating my tired brain. I’m safe, I remind myself. My trauma is in the past. I can’t pretend it isn’t there, lurking in the shadows. That doesn’t work.
But right here, right now, everything is fine. I listen to Daphne breathing steadily beside me. And I slow down my breathing, matching my rhythm to hers. It’s like a meditation, except instead of focusing on my own