His hand forces me forward into him, and I close my eyes, almost believing that if I don’t see it coming, I won’t be able to stop it. I feel his chest press to mine next, then his hand wraps deeper into my hair so he’s cradling the back of my head. His other hand slides up my side to the middle of my back, and his chin comes down above my head so I’m completely tucked within his embrace. I’m sheltered, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt my heart actually stop from being in someone’s arms.
Giving in, I bring my hands up Cody’s back so I’m hugging him tightly to me, my fingers gripping at his torn T-shirt. I slide my face flat against him and let out everything I’ve been holding in—it feels like for years.
I cry. I cry hard. I didn’t see it coming, but I can’t stop it now. Cody is pulling me with him slowly to the bed, and when he sits down I fall onto him. He reaches around my legs and pulls them up so I’m draped over his lap, my body still cradled in his arms, and the sobs coming harder than before.
Cody pulls the blanket from the side of his bed and brings it around me, wrapping me in it and rocking me side to side. I stop the tears only for a few seconds when I listen to his voice trying to calm me. “Shhhhhhhh, it’s okay. Sometimes you have to cry,” he says, kissing the top of my head and squeezing me tighter.
I’m shattered in his arms, unable to breathe without my body shaking. We stay like this for several minutes before I realize he’s slowly slid us up his bed, and I’m now laying flat in his arms. I’ve never slept in anyone’s arms—Trevor can’t sleep with me on him, not that I really ever tried. I’ve always gone to sleep alone, even when I’m lying right next to someone. Thunderstorms as a child, breakups in high school, roommates, the first time I had sex with Trevor—I’ve always drifted off on my own time, often hours after everyone else.
I let my eyes grow heavy, lulled by the constant stroking of my hair and the feeling of Cody’s fingertips as they graze along my scalp and neck. I’m pretty sure that what we’re doing isn’t okay, and I know even now, without even thinking about it, that I will never tell Trevor. But I’m not leaving this…this feeling. I’ll sort through the consequences—tomorrow.
Tonight I’m going to dream, and lay here in Cody’s arms under the stars he made for me.
Chapter 7: The Mask I’m Wearing
I can’t face Cody. He’s in a deep sleep, slightly snoring, when I wake. The sun is shining through the cracks in his blinds. I’m a little ashamed.
I dreamt of him last night. I dreamt of him while I lay in his arms. In my dreams, he kissed me. It was soft and sensual and beautiful. It was right here, in this bed. I look at him, and focus on his lips, his mouth. They look strong. It’s maybe my favorite thing about him—other than his eyes. His smile stretches the full width of his face. When he’s giving one genuinely, it fills me with butterflies.
But Cody is my friend. That’s it—it ends there. And his stepbrother, the man I plan to marry one day, hates him. My head is spinning just trying to sort through my situation, trying to find fixes, ways to keep Cody in my life without keeping it a secret. Regardless, I know nights like last night can’t happen again—and I can never talk about it…with anyone.
I manage to slide from the bed without making it move. I’m so worried I’m going to make a noise that I bend down to the floor so I’m on my hands and knees, and I army-crawl my way out of Cody’s bedroom. I stop to take in where I am one last time. His handmade stars have faded with the sunlight seeping into the room, but I’ll never forget how they looked. And I may never be able to look at the real stars without comparing them again.
Cody’s door opens without any noise, and I hold my breath until I’m safely out of his room and sprinting down the carriage house stairs. My heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my throat. I almost feel like I’m going to be sick.
I make it to the backdoor at the kitchen and am relieved that it’s unlocked when I tug on it. The house is quiet. I’m sure Shelly has long passed out from drinking her problems away. I pull the gallon of milk from the fridge, and looking around to make sure I’m completely alone, begin to gulp it down. I’m so thirsty, and my stomach is turning—when I was a kid, this was the only thing that ever soothed me. Mac never cared when I drank from the container. He did it more than I did.
It’s barely seven. I know Trevor will be awake, and I know he probably called me last night. I put the milk back in its place and tiptoe up the stairs to our room. I stop briefly at Shelly’s door just to listen. I hear nothing but the light mumbling coming from her television. I’m sure she’s down for the count.