“Jesus,” he mumbles. “It’s cold. Are you okay?”
“I-I-I-I.” I can’t even speak, great.
He rolls and sits up, reaching out. I feel his hand touch my face. It’s warm. How the hell is it warm?
“You’re fucking freezing.”
“I-I-I-I . . .”
“Shit,” he grumbles.
He’s still for a moment before letting out a deep sigh and saying, “Move out for a second.”
I do as he says, moving out from the hanging rock. He shuffles around and then says, “Come back.”
I go to get back in only to smash into his hard chest. “W-w-w-w-what?”
“I don’t want to die. You don’t want to die. Body heat.”
Logical.
I don’t argue. I’m too cold.
“Just . . . don’t touch me.”
Seriously?
“A-a-a-a-are you s-s-s-s-serious?”
“Lie beside me, I’ll wrap you up but don’t . . . don’t touch me.”
Fine. Whatever.
I lie down beside him and he pulls me into his arms, doing just as he said. Wrapping me up. He curls himself around me and I feel his body heat pouring into me. Oh. Yes. Thank God. After about ten minutes, I finally begin to feel my fingers and toes again—but sleep is not happening.
“I can’t sleep,” I say, shifting to make sure I don’t “touch” him.
“That’s probably because we’re on the ground, and it’s hard.”
“Probably. Want to play a game?”
He makes a rumbling sound with his chest. “I don’t play games.”
“Don’t be such a fun spoiler.”
He sighs. “Dare I ask what the game is?”
“Okay, so we’ll ask one question each about each other. We have to answer it, even if we don’t want to.”
“Not happening,” he says firmly.
“Okay, unless it’s a really painful question to answer.”
“Still not happening.”
“I’ll go first, ask me something.”
He hesitates for a minute or two, but finally says, “Has there been anyone else since . . . him?”
I shake my head and I know he can feel it. “Not one person.”
He goes silent; it seems to be what he does when he has nothing to say about a situation. Well, I guess most of us are silent if we have nothing to say.
“My turn,” I say softly. “I’ve taken a good guess and I imagine you sleep around quite a bit. Correct me if I’m wrong, of course. But, if I’m right—why all the women?”
He shrugs. “I’m a man.”
“That’s such a man answer!”
He chuckles—oh that sound.
“They just make me feel better for a moment or two. It helps.”
“I wish I had that,” I admit. “The very idea of sex scares me so badly I’ve never wanted to try it. But then, I’ve never had anyone I trust enough to try it with.”
“What about your beloved Hendrix?”
“Hendrix and I were never like that. He always, always respected me.”
No answer again.
“But I guess for you, with women like Livvie around, you don’t have to think too much about what you’re getting.”
He snorts. “Livvie is . . .”
He pauses, weighing up his answer.
“Is easy. Is gorgeous. Is what every man would pick. I mean, why wouldn’t they? Girls like me, we don’t compare to someone like her.”
“It’s hard to compare average and perfect.”
“Fuck, ouch, Dimi!”
He shakes his head. I feel his cheek press against my head as he does. “She’s average, Jess.”
Oh.
My cheeks flush.
“Livvie is a basic idea of what women think men want. Yes, she’s gorgeous, yes she’s easy, but that’s as far as it goes. She’s the same as a thousand other women. She’s fake all over. Women like you, they’re different. You’re not the same as a thousand others, you’re one of your own. So while you might not be the stereotype, you can be so much more beautiful.”
Oh. My. God.
My mouth drops open and I struggle to take a breath of fresh air. Did he just . . . did he . . . call me beautiful?
“My hair is red,” I manage to stammer out.
“It’s fucking gorgeous.”
“My skin . . . is so white.”
“Like a doll.”
“My eyes are too big.”
“The bigger, the better.”
“Stop it!” I cry. “Why are you being so nice to me? Is it because you know I could leave you out here?”
He falls silent. “I may be a whole lot of things, Jess, but I’m not a liar.”
“So you’re just being honest with me?”
“Something like that.”
Damn, pin to the ego bubble. I push from his arms. “I need air.”
“You’re in the open . . .” he points out.
I get up anyway, regretting the decision immediately. It’s freezing and the warmth I just managed to get into my body is now rushing out and being replaced with a bone-chilling cold. I wrap my arms around myself and inhale. In and out. In and out. Just focus.
“Get back in here, you’ll freeze,” Dimi yells.
“Did you know I’ve never been kissed?”
It’s such a stupid thing to say, yet the need to say it seems to far outweigh logic.