I wake up with Noah braced on his elbows and gazing down at me, idly playing with my hair. The sheets are covering my body up to my bare chests, and his is just above his waist.
"Hey," I murmur.
"You sleep with your eyes open, do you know that?" He says it with a smile. "It's quite mesmerizing."
I glance towards the window and see it's still night out. "How long was I gone for?"
"A little over an hour. It's 10' pm."
"I'm sorry I feel asleep."
"It's alright." He rubs a thumb between my eyes. "I liked watching you sleep."
I stretch, then shift so that I'm cradled by the pillows. Experimentally, I lay a hand on my breast. My heart is bumping along at a normal rate now rather than with that snare drum riff it had reached when he nuzzled just there. It's an odd feeling, to have someone suckling you, to have him pull you inside him. And to experience those mirror tugs in the womb.
Everything he did makes my body feel different— tighter than looser, lighter than heavier.
I wonder if I look different— to myself, to him. There's no denying I feel different.
With all the pain, all the grief and fear in my life over the past months, I finally found an oasis. For tonight, if only for tonight, there's only this room. Nothing outside of this room matters.
"You had another nightmare." I stare up at him in surprise. "You were sleep talking."
It's true I had another nightmare. But I don't want to bother him with that, or start talking about it to ruin my mood.
"It's nothing."
"Tell me what happened that night. I never heard your own part of the story."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"I should at least know."
I sit upright on the bed with my back to the wall as there's no headboard, hugging the sheets to my chest. "I was almost sixteen when Clarke and I met. I only wanted him because everyone else did. A stupid fifteen year old girl's fantasy."
"And you got him."
"Oh, I did. The first few months of our relationship went well, until he developed drinking habits. I suspected he also took drugs but he'd always brush it off anytime I tried to bring it up. Then that night, my parents announced they were getting divorced."
"You didn't take it well, did you?"
"That's an understatement. I went barging out of the house. I needed a distraction. I needed someone. So I drove down to your brother's party where Clarke was. I didn't know he had something against your brother. He never told me about his College friends or non-friends."
I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling his gaze on me. "I want to save your brother. I want everything to go back to the way it was, even if it'll never be the same for me. But for you. I want you to be happy again."
"Who says I'm not?"
"I know you're not. You try to hide the fact that you're not bothered, or sad. But I can feel it. I can see it. Right here." I tap a finger to the left side of his chest where his heart is.
"And what else do you see in there?"
"I see how kind you are. How you treat the people you care about. How you deal with anger. How you deal with pain. Its beautiful."
He runs a hand down my arm, tugs at the sheet on my chest. "Do you see yourself in it?"
Something lodges in my throat. Something hot and not easily swallowed. "I'm not sure. It's like there's a huge door there, opened, and I'm standing in between. I just need a little boost to fully get in. It's left to you to pull me in, or just slam the door on my face."
"I'm pretty sure you'd kick the damn door down if it ever gets slammed."
With a giggle, I reach for the drawers and bring out a pen, uncapping the head as I draw the half of a heart on the wall. "My heart's your heart. Ever and always."
He shifts so that he faces the wall, takes the pen when I stretch it out to him, draws the remaining part of the heart as I plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "And mine's yours."
____________________
The only sound I could hear was that of my own breathing, as I watched Clarke pull out a gun from his jeans. I was surrounded by total darkness but I could discern what was happening. And it was danger.
I was scared for Clarke. I was scared for Noah. But I was also terrified for myself. So I didn't do anything.
I let the trigger go off.
"Allie."
I open my eyes to see Noah moving his lips. It takes me a few seconds before I'm able to actually hear his voice, or realize he's holding my hands I had balled into fists.
"Hey." My voice comes out smaller than I expected.
"You're trembling. Are you sure you should be here?"
We're at the makeshift target range somewhere in the woods with the rest of the crew. Someone came up with the sick idea of a shooting range for a sport. I personally thought we should go hiking, but everyone turned it down before I could even finish making the suggestion.
So here I am, surrounded by people having fun with guns, pretending I'm okay with the whole ordeal.
I should be fine.
"It's just a chill." I force out a smile.
"Allie!" Someone calls out and throws a pocket pistol to my feet. "You're up next."
Noah follows me where I resume my stance. "You don't have to do this."
"I'm not sixteen anymore." I fire the target. Miss it by a mile. "Shit."
"You can always beat him over the head with it." Noah steadies my arm. "Concentrate."
"I was concentrating. It's just a little bullet. If I had a bigger gun, like yours—"
"You'd fall on your ass every time you fired it. You'll use a girl gun until you know what you're doing."
I fire again, scowl. "That was closer. I know that was closer."
"Watch me." He draws the single-action Army colt out of the holster riding low in his hip. The .45 is a lot of gun— weighty and mean. Showing off only a little, he hits the target with just one shot.
"How the hell do you do that?"
"Concentration, a steady hand, and a clear eye." Smiling, he slides the gun back into its sheath. "Maybe you need something more. Hate anybody?"
"Not really."
Noah merely raises an eyebrow. "Who was the first guy to dump you and break your heart?"
"No one dumps me, champ." Then my lips pouts. "There was Joey Stevens in sixth grade. Little son of a bitch led me on, then two-timed me with my friend."
"Put his face over that target there, and plug one between his eyes."
Teeth set, I shift, aim. My fingers tremble on the trigger. Then I lower the gun with a laugh. "Christ, I can't shoot a ten-year-old."
"He's all grown up now, living in Bel Air, and still laughing about the skinny dork he dumped in junior high."
"Bastard." Now my teeth bares as I take my shot. "I nipped it!" I shout, dancing a bit, and Noah cautiously removes the gun from my hand before I shoot myself in the foot. "It moved."
"Probably the wind."
"Hell it was. I killed Joey Stevens."
"Just a flesh wound."
"He's lying on the ground, watching his life pass in front of his eyes."
"You're starting to enjoy this too much," Lacey steps in behind us. "I just pretend I'm in one of those arcades at the carnival and I'm trying to win the big stuffed teddy bear."
"What color teddy bear?" Noah asks.
"Pink." Lacey slants her eyes at me when I burst out laughing. "I like pink teddy bears. And I've won a good dozen of them while you've been shooting thin air."
"Oh, now she's getting nasty. I think we should have a contest. Not you, killer," I say, nudging Noah aside. "Just me and the teddy bear lover."
"Then I suggest you reload." Noah bends down for the ammo.
"What's the winner get?" Carefully reloading, I hunker down. "Besides satisfaction. We need a prize."
"Loser does laundry for a week," Lacey decides.
"Everyone's laundry. Including delicates?"
"Including your fancy French panties."
Satisfied the deal, I nudge Lacey aside. "I'll go first."
I take a breath, replay everything Noah taught me about my stance. It takes me minutes to stop slamming my eyes shut as I squeeze the trigger. The face of the target gradually fades away, and I don't know how, but I see Clarke's face instead.
My fingers tremble along with my legs, my vision becomes blurry with tears. I feel large hands close over my grip on the gun and lowers it. "I think that's enough for today. I'm taking you back."
I open my mouth to protest but Noah's already dragging me out of everyone's watchful stare.