Page 24 of Please Open Me
I stayed there for a moment, arms wrapped around my knees, debating whether I wanted to try sleeping again or get up and give in to the ache crawling under my skin.
Nicotine won the argument.
I swung my legs off the bed and grabbed the half-empty pack of cigarettes from the drawer. The weight told me I'd stashed a lighter in there too. I shoved both in the pocket of my basketball shorts and stumbled into the hall.
The warm glow from the living room spilled down the hallway, and I made a mental note to turn off the lights after I smoked—Until I heard it.
The soft sound of a TV playing some garbage reality show… and voices.
My steps slowed.
Was I still dreaming?
I brought a cigarette to my lips and struck the lighter twice. The second time, a blue flame bloomed. I waved my fingers through it, yanking them back when it stung.
Nope. That hurt. I was awake.
I stuffed the pack back into my pocket and followed the sound, bracing for an intruder, or maybe just another cult hallucination.
I wasn’t prepared to find Mason and Sophia, curled together on the couch like matching cats, their eyes glued to the screen. Between them sat a half-eaten strawberry shortcake—the round kind with stacked sponge layers, whipped cream, and a sea of lacquered strawberries on top. It looked like it came from the vegan bakery a town over.
I frowned, not because they were up late, but because we had that cake last week. It was so good it hadn’t lasted a full day in the house, which meant this one had been bought later and hidden.
Traitors.
I didn’t say a word, just stared until Sophia looked over her shoulder at me, her thumb in her mouth as she sucked a bitof cream from it.
“Well, well, well,” she sang, “looks like we have a spy.”
Mason turned to look too.
She looked better than earlier, but something still wasn’t right. Not pale, not sick, just... not Mason. The light behind her eyes had dimmed. Or maybe that was just me.
“I’m not a spy,” I said, pulling the cigarette from my mouth and tucking it back into the pack. “I just couldn’t sleep. Why areyouup?”
Late-night hours usually belonged to Mason and me. It was strange for Sophia to interrupt us.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged.
The pink spaghetti strap on her pajama top slipped off her shoulder like a sled racing downhill. My eyes followed it. Sophia scared the shit out of me…but she was definitely nice to look at.
“Want to sit with us?” Mason asked.
“Mmm. Depends.” I crossed my arms and nodded toward the cake. “Can I share?”
Sophia sucked on her spoon, thinking it over.
“Just don’t tell the other boys.”
I smiled and sank into the small space behind Mason. We were so close she might as well have been in my lap—which was exactly how I liked it.
Without a word, she handed me her spoon. I was ready to dig in... until I remembered I had my retainer in.
Smoking in it was one thing. Trapping whipped cream between the plastic and my molars? No, thanks.
That meant I had to do the least sexy thing imaginable in front of my girlfriend and her girlfriend.
Goddammit.
