Page 17 of Just One Bite

Chapter Twelve

Olivia

My hand reaches for the surface as my lungs burn with water. I’m drowning.

Help me.

Someone, please save me.

I can’t breathe, but I reach. Hoping. Pleading.

Thunder wakes me, and I shoot up in bed. Lightning cracks, and I rush to the window to draw the curtains. Another rumble of thunder vibrates through me as I sit on the edge of my bed in the dark.

It wasn’t supposed to storm, just rain. I swear it wasn’t. Otherwise, I would have prepared.

With trembling fingers, I go for my phone and check the weather. There’s a storm warning for the next two hours. I dig through my closet for my headphones, but I must have left them in the studio when I dropped off my ballet stuff in one of the lockers. It’s fine.

I dial Eva’s number first, my leg bouncing. Nothing. I try Emma next. She isn’t good at comfort, but it’s better than nothing.

She doesn’t answer.

No. No. No. The thunder snaps again, so I put my hands over my ears.

No, this is fine too. I don’t need help. I’ve dealt with this before; I can do it again. It’s been so long since I’ve been alone during a storm. My sisters and I always shared a room, and having them there made a difference.

It’s the emptiness of it I don’t like. The lack of calm. That’s why I always have headphones. How could I forget my headphones? I listen to ballet ballads all night, and my mind drifts back to variation. There’s certainty there, imagining myself dancing alone in the music.

Without music, I’m alone.

My brain is half asleep, churning out spirals of thought faster than I can keep up with. The rumble shakes the room, and I put my hand over my heart and breathe in for four counts and out for five. I stand to warm myself at the hearth, but my fingers won’t warm.

She’s never coming back.

It’s always like this. The combination of thunder and the memory of that haunting truth. She’s the only being who would make this better. She always knew what to do and what to say, no matter how panicked or scared I felt in the night. She should be here.

Wobbly and lightheaded, I stumble into the hall and another crack of thunder booms and lightning illuminates the dark hallway. She would answer the phone.

Moving always helps. Anything is better than being alone in my bed. The common room is my first thought, but I find myself staring at Parker’s door.

It looks just like mine. Same sapphire handle and wooden design fixed with gemstones and pained filigree. But there’s one word lingering in my head at the sight of it.

Home. He did say he wanted me to stay with him. Would he care if I woke him up?

I’m still half asleep, not thinking clearly, but I remember the feeling of his touch and the safety in it. I shouldn’t. What am I expecting him to do?

Shivering in the dark hallway, I stiffen as thunder shakes the floor again, then I bang on his door. The worst he can do is turn me away, and if he does, I’ll go sit in the common room with my humiliation. It wouldn’t be my first time being embarrassed in front of him.

The door opens to a shirtless Parker with his pajama pants falling below his hip bones. He sleepily moves the hair from his eyes. “Olivia?”

“Can I … stay in your room?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Change your mind? ”

My fingers bend around the doorframe as the thunder shakes the building again. “Please.”

I just need to get somewhere quiet. Safe.

His eyes soften. “Ah. Got it. Yeah, come on.”

I’m shaking till I attempt to settle onto his bed.

Should I just sit on the floor? He’s likely annoyed.

He should be. I think about going back seconds before the thunder grumbles again.

I’m not afraid of much, not really. I’m not afraid of the dark.

I almost drowned once as a child, but I’m not even afraid of water or swimming.

I don’t mind snakes or spiders, but thunderstorms have always accompanied my worst nightmares as a kid, and that’s only been amplified in my mother’s absence.

“Do you need anything? Water?”

“No … I just can’t sleep like this.” I’m raw and open. It’s paralyzing.

“You’re afraid of the thunder.” His voice is gentle.

I nod. It’s embarrassing to be afraid of thunder and storms. It’s a child’s fear that my parents were confident I’d grow out of … until my mother died.

“Well, you’re safe. Here.” He turns to rummage in his drawer and pulls out some headphones to cover my ears.

“Thank you.” I place them firmly over my ears. The muffled noise is welcomed. It takes away the sting of the thunder. Parker’s room has no windows, so I’m safe from the lightning too. I stay sitting, content to sit up in his bed when he hooks me by my waist and hauls me into him.

We’re spooning, with his body hot against my back and his arm around my stomach. I’ve never been held like this before by anyone. He’s smothering me, but it’s not suffocating.

My mind races with thoughts of my childhood.

When it stormed, my mom would lie in my bed or stay up with me.

I’d sit in her lap, and we’d play with puzzles till the sun came up and the thunder died.

Once she was gone, I’d wandered into my dad’s room during a storm, but he’d tell me to go back to my room.

I wish she was here. I wish I could call her.

“Better?” I can barely hear his muffled voice.

“Yes,” I say, letting my hips sink into him, and a singular tear falls to my cheek. It’s relief leaking from my eyes as the threat dissipates but also the familiar ache of grief .

“I’m sorry.” My muffled words come out of nowhere.

Sorry this is too much.

Sorry I’m being embarrassing.

A burden.

Inconvenient.

I’m in the way. I shouldn’t have forgotten my headphones. I should have checked the weather and not made this anyone else’s problem. He shouldn’t have to share a bed with a grown woman who’s afraid of thunder.

“Don’t.” He rubs my arm. “It’s okay.”

When I sniffle, his grip tightens around me and he rests his chin on my head.

He doesn’t think I’m a burden.

He isn’t mad.

I let go of the fear, and our breaths sync with each exhale. It’s as good as I’d hoped it would be. All-consuming comfort. So warm.

“You’re safe.” He repeats it until my muscles stop spasming and the tears stop staining his pillow. His hand runs up my forearm to my shoulder, and with my eyes closed, the thunder fades.

There’s just him. The sheets smell of fresh linen and his shampoo. Every breath is a gentle lullaby lulling me toward sleep.

He tugs on my leg to open my legs farther so his leg can slide between my thighs. I let him. Because it’s safe. I sense it in his touch. All of this is natural. How things should be. All the puzzle pieces fit together. We fit.

Parker feels like someone I’ve known all my life.

It’s impossible. I’m too tired. Sleep is taking me.

But I know him.

I swear I do.