Page 7 of Weathering the Storm (Voice Out 1)
“She is. I’m sure you’ll meet her soon,” Luke said and then promptly yawned. “Time to turn in, I think?”
I nodded. “Shall we continue tomorrow, then?” I asked casually and held my breath as I waited for him to answer.
“Of course. I’m going to win this, just you see,” Luke told me with a grin before heading off down the hallway toward his room, leaving me with a huge smile on my face. Oh, the bet was definitely on.
5
Luke
Forthefirsttimein years, I slept like a baby.
ReadingBastien Whitebecame our norm, ourthing,in the next few weeks. I’d make dinner when I got back from work, and after that first weekend, I even started waiting for Scott to get home so I could have it with him instead of leaving his dinner in the microwave like I used to. We didn’t talk about much, just the superficial things, like our day at work and the part of the book we were on, but I still enjoyed spending time with Scott.
Yesterday, we finished the fourth book in the series,since it was a Saturday and we basically spent the whole day reading. It'd sucked when one of my favorite characters died. I’d known he would, of course, since it was my millionth time reading it. Still, it'd hurt just as much as the first time.
I’d been surprised at how much it had affected Scott, though. He’d choked up and been unable to finish the chapter. I hadn’t asked him why—I would never push someone like that, no matter how curious I was. But he’d told me about his parents, who had died in a car accident when he’d been a kid. Then he'd told me about his pops, his godfather, the man who had been everything to him. And how he'd died in a fire at his place of employment.
Watching Scott relive all those painful memories had made my chest hurt, and ignoring all of my issues, I’d pulled him into a hug and tried to comfort him as much as I could. I’d offered to stop, but he’d said that he needed to get it over with, or he would avoid reading it. So I’d read the rest of it, holding his hand with my free one. And once we were done, he’d squeezed my hand, thanked me, and disappeared into his room. I’d cleaned up and done the same, but I’d spent the night worrying about him. His pain shouldn’t have affected me this badly, right? It wasn’t like I knew him all that well, so why did I already care about him so much? Why did the thought of him hurting keep me up for most of the night?
I scrubbed my face as the early morning light poured into my room through the window, brightening up the pale lilac walls of my room. I loved the soothing color the best because it always made me feel peaceful, but even it couldn’t push away the anxiety that was buzzing under my skin. I’d barely gotten an hour of sleep, and my head felt heavy with exhaustion. I struggled to my feet as the scent of coffee hit my nose, telling me Scott was up too. Brushing my teeth quickly, I shuffled into the kitchen, where Scott was flipping pancakes with an expertise I definitely wasn’t jealous of. I grabbed a mug and filled it with the life-giving nectar before leaning against the counter and taking a grateful sip.
“You’re up early,” Scott remarked with a smile, and I sighed in relief. He must be feeling better if he was smiling, right? It didn’t look like a forced smile to me. My thoughts came to a freezing halt at the realization I could already sort his smiles into categories. Hadn’t my plan been to keep him at a distance? To not care about him and just be polite enough to coexist in peace? Why the fuck had I ended up spending half the night worrying about his well-being?
I took a deep breath to stave off the minor panic attack I could feel brewing. It was okay. We were just friends, after all. Hanging out with Scott everyday for the past month or so, I’d realized that he honestly was a kind and caring person. I couldn’t detect an evil bone in his body, and maybe having him for a friend wasn’t such a bad idea.
“More like never got around to getting a proper sleep,” I mumbled as I remembered what he’d said.
“Oh? Was there a reason you couldn’t? Or was it just one of those bouts of insomnia that hit you out of nowhere? Because I know all about them,” he said as he dished up the warm pancakes and placed them on the dining table with syrup, honey, jam, and chocolate sauce. If that didn’t scream foodie, I didn’t know what did. Weekend breakfasts with Scott were always on the barely healthy side, and I absolutely loved them.
“No reason, just a good old hit of insomnia,” I answered once I’d consumed one whole pancake in just three bites. No way was I telling him thoughts of him had kept me up.
“Sucks. Don’t ever use sleep meds for them, though. They fuck up your sleep schedule more than they help in any way,” Scott muttered with a shake of his head, and I had to agree.
“There are way too many side-effects as well,” I added. For me, the side-effects usually meant getting trapped in my nightmares and not being able to wake up. Thankfully, I hadn’t had any nightmares since I moved in a month ago, though I’d fully expected to with all the changes. I’d woken up a few times with my heart racing, but I hadn’t remembered the nightmares, for which I was grateful. The memories haunted me all day as it was. I’d prefer to forget the nightmares if I had the option.
“Oh, by the way, it seems like I won’t be getting that batch of cookies twice a month,” Scott said, and it took me a moment to realize he was talking about the bet we’d made when we’d first started reading theBastien Whitebooks.
“Does that mean what I think it means?” I asked with a victorious grin, and Scott rolled his eyes.
“Okay, so Imayhave been wrong,” Scott stated with a dramatic sniff that made me chuckle. He broke character to grin at me before bringing out his high-and-mighty face again.
“Yeah? And what were you wrong about?”
“Well, I’ve realized that Bastien Whiteisn’tjust a children’s book. I mean, there are so many overlying themes and all that darkness. No way would a kid’s book have that much evil and self-sacrifice. And damn, the way so many of the characters are so well fleshed out? And have their own backstories? Wow.”
I grinned at him as I pointedly dusted my hands and straightened my imaginary collar and said, “Well, my work is done. As promised, I’ve converted you.Andwe still have three books left to read. Gee, I can’t wait to see your reaction to everything.”
Scott stuck his tongue out at me grumpily, but it only made him look adorable, and I laughed. After a minute of eating quietly, he looked up at me and asked, “So, what do you want? You won the bet.”
I mulled over it for a minute before realizing there was only one thing. I’d enjoyed hanging out with Scott so far, and I wanted to keep doing it. “Once we’re done with the Bastien White books, I’d like to keep reading with you.”
Scott stared at me for a moment, and I wondered if he’d say no. Had he had enough of me? Did the idea of reading more with me sound boring to him? Before my thoughts could send me into the usual spiral of anxiety and self-doubt, Scott’s face brightened with a wide smile, his brown eyes twinkling with joy. “I’d love that! But I get to pick the next book or series.”
“Fair enough,” I said as I felt a strange flutter in my chest.Happiness. I was happy Scott wanted to continue reading with me.
We ate the rest of our breakfast in silence except for discussing what chores we needed to get done before we could settle down with our books. I had a week's worth of laundry to do, while Scott needed to get the groceries. I offered to pay half of it, just now realizing that I had been eating his food without contributing anything all this time. How could I have forgotten about that?
“Nah, it’s fine. You cook the dinner anyway. The least I can do is get the ingredients.”
