space between us like an avalanche.
He checks my watch. It's almost eight. "I should go out for a bit."
"Now?" I ask. I'm already picturing him going to see his Swedish girlfriend, because he's hard and obviously he can't fuck me.
"I have to go return the car," he says and grins at me, like he knows what I'm thinking. "I'm sure not gonna feel like doing it later. You can come, if you want. But it's a bit of a walk back."
My belly still feels like someone kicked me hard.
"No, but hurry back," I say.
He kisses me again, softly with no tongue, then I'm standing and he's putting on his jacket.
At the window, I watch him emerge from the alleyway, making a call. After he drives away I lie down on the bed, wrapping the blanket around myself tightly because the apartment is so chilly when he's not in it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When I wake up, the apartment is silent and dark. Yellow light spills in from the street below, and the wind is whistling around the corners of the building, like a huge storm is coming. But stars are twinkling in the part of the sky I can see, in the gaps between the buildings opposite.
Scott is lying beside me on his back, with his arms tucked under his head.
I flip over so I'm facing him. His eyes are closed, but he's not breathing evenly.
"Are you awake?" I whisper, but get no reply.
I lie back down on my side, close enough so that our legs are touching. If he'd just extend his arm down he'd be hugging me. But he's still pretending to sleep, and I can feel a draft along my back, urging me to get up and leave.
He's only wearing a thin t-shirt, and his nipples are erect and pushing through the fabric. I'd love to feel them between my lips, but instead I reach for the blanket, which is only draped across his stomach and legs and pull it up, not wanting him to be cold. He opens his eyes as my hand grazes his stomach, and I snatch my hand away, feeling like I'd just done something very wrong.
"Sorry," I mutter. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"I wasn't asleep," he says, and a cold weight drops into my stomach, settling there.
"You just didn't want to talk," I say and flip over so I'm staring at the ceiling too. This is how my mom lay after she died, only she saw nothing, felt nothing. A car passes in the street below, and the light stabs across the ceiling, then recedes back into the shadows.
The room isn't supposed to be this cold, not with Scott back. But it's like I'm still alone, even though his leg is pressed against mine, and I can hear him breathing. A tear trickles out the side of my eye, cold like it had been waiting awhile to spill.
"I'll leave in the morning, if you want me to?" I whisper, a sob racking through me. It's what he wants, I'm sure of it.
"That's not gonna solve anything," he says finally. "Maybe if you never came in the first place."
"I thought you said we'd give it a try," I whisper and shudder, tears spilling out of my eyes fast now. I knew those kisses before wouldn't last, because they couldn't.
The bed wobbles and he turns to his side. He's looking at me now, leaning against one elbow. His eyes are like black crystal balls, white smokey mists twirling inside them.
"Sarah, you say?" he asks.
I whimper again and nod, tasting my salty tears.
"How long did you know for?"
I look back up at the ceiling, because I can't face his eyes, the dark emptiness there. "I only found out for sure on Monday. But I suspected before."
"That was a quick decision."
"I should have told you before." It seems so clear now, what I should have done then.
"Would it change anything?" he says. "You didn't want it, so you didn't keep it."
"Would you ask me to keep it?" I ask, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. He's staring past me through the window. The silence drags, and I close my eyes, but all I see is the dark beach, raging waves slamming into the shore, Sarah's lifeless little body tossed to and fro, so I open them again.
"Probably not," he says
He checks my watch. It's almost eight. "I should go out for a bit."
"Now?" I ask. I'm already picturing him going to see his Swedish girlfriend, because he's hard and obviously he can't fuck me.
"I have to go return the car," he says and grins at me, like he knows what I'm thinking. "I'm sure not gonna feel like doing it later. You can come, if you want. But it's a bit of a walk back."
My belly still feels like someone kicked me hard.
"No, but hurry back," I say.
He kisses me again, softly with no tongue, then I'm standing and he's putting on his jacket.
At the window, I watch him emerge from the alleyway, making a call. After he drives away I lie down on the bed, wrapping the blanket around myself tightly because the apartment is so chilly when he's not in it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When I wake up, the apartment is silent and dark. Yellow light spills in from the street below, and the wind is whistling around the corners of the building, like a huge storm is coming. But stars are twinkling in the part of the sky I can see, in the gaps between the buildings opposite.
Scott is lying beside me on his back, with his arms tucked under his head.
I flip over so I'm facing him. His eyes are closed, but he's not breathing evenly.
"Are you awake?" I whisper, but get no reply.
I lie back down on my side, close enough so that our legs are touching. If he'd just extend his arm down he'd be hugging me. But he's still pretending to sleep, and I can feel a draft along my back, urging me to get up and leave.
He's only wearing a thin t-shirt, and his nipples are erect and pushing through the fabric. I'd love to feel them between my lips, but instead I reach for the blanket, which is only draped across his stomach and legs and pull it up, not wanting him to be cold. He opens his eyes as my hand grazes his stomach, and I snatch my hand away, feeling like I'd just done something very wrong.
"Sorry," I mutter. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"I wasn't asleep," he says, and a cold weight drops into my stomach, settling there.
"You just didn't want to talk," I say and flip over so I'm staring at the ceiling too. This is how my mom lay after she died, only she saw nothing, felt nothing. A car passes in the street below, and the light stabs across the ceiling, then recedes back into the shadows.
The room isn't supposed to be this cold, not with Scott back. But it's like I'm still alone, even though his leg is pressed against mine, and I can hear him breathing. A tear trickles out the side of my eye, cold like it had been waiting awhile to spill.
"I'll leave in the morning, if you want me to?" I whisper, a sob racking through me. It's what he wants, I'm sure of it.
"That's not gonna solve anything," he says finally. "Maybe if you never came in the first place."
"I thought you said we'd give it a try," I whisper and shudder, tears spilling out of my eyes fast now. I knew those kisses before wouldn't last, because they couldn't.
The bed wobbles and he turns to his side. He's looking at me now, leaning against one elbow. His eyes are like black crystal balls, white smokey mists twirling inside them.
"Sarah, you say?" he asks.
I whimper again and nod, tasting my salty tears.
"How long did you know for?"
I look back up at the ceiling, because I can't face his eyes, the dark emptiness there. "I only found out for sure on Monday. But I suspected before."
"That was a quick decision."
"I should have told you before." It seems so clear now, what I should have done then.
"Would it change anything?" he says. "You didn't want it, so you didn't keep it."
"Would you ask me to keep it?" I ask, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. He's staring past me through the window. The silence drags, and I close my eyes, but all I see is the dark beach, raging waves slamming into the shore, Sarah's lifeless little body tossed to and fro, so I open them again.
"Probably not," he says
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