The next morning John is giving you and Thea a lift back to uni. He claims that he needs to drop by the lab, but you really don’t believe him.
Thea saunters down the stairs, a trail of sad sighs behind her. Yep, the staff is going to miss her. You think that Tom, the masseur might even shed a few tears. You’re sleepy and disheveled, well, more than usual. The bastard really doesn’t sleep.
Thea falls asleep right away, even her glorious tall body can be comfortable in this ocean liner. You’re nodding in and out of pleasant dozing, Nino Katamadze at the background, and his cologne caressing your nose. You drift away with a cowardly thought: how are going you going to sleep tonight without his hot body pressed into yours?
The dream is weird. It’s an exam room in a hospital but you know you’re there to take a test in Enzymology. You’re nervous, you forgot about the test. The door opens, and Phil comes in.
The dream shifts, and you’re yelling at each other.
“You could have told me! You are such a bitch, Wren!” He’s livid, and you think he’s going to hit you. You feel relieved, it’s better this way.
You are screaming back, tears bursting out of your eyes.
“I tried. I really tried with you! Forgive me!”
You are fiercely kissing now.
It’s his flat, the familiar upholstery of the sofa rubs at your naked back and buttocks.
You wake up gasping for air, your heart beating wildly in your chest. Fuck, you really need to sleep more.
“You do know that you talk in your sleep?”
John’s tone is hushed, even. You turn to him in panic. He’s calm, hands on the wheel. You realize he’s keeping his voice down because of Thea.
“What did I say?” Your throat feels painful.
“Not much, something about reaction rate and metabolic pathways, and then you were definitely enjoying your dream a bit more than usual.”
He smirks, his tone lower and definitely more suggestive.
“Was I in it?”
Fucking fuck, bollocks, bugger!
No more lying, no more lying, Wren! Different Wren, different man, different approach!
“No, but a test on enzymes was.”
“Hm…” He gives you a side glance. “It seems you really like enzymology.”
“I hate it actually, the only test I was struggling with the second year.” You sigh and try to think about something else but Phil’s naked body pressed in you.
The cursed brain doesn’t comply. Him and Killian have a rule, no shagging in shared space. To think of it, you broke it every single time you ended up in their flat. The kitchen counter was your favourite – so many possibilities. You would always wipe it afterwards, which made Phil laugh his arse off. You really felt very guilty about it. The sofa in front of their unnecessary giant telly was the other hit. Why are you bloody thinking about it now?
You rub your eyes with your palms.
“Sleepy?” Can he sound any more smug?
“Endlessly. Just couldn’t fall asleep last night. Don’t know what’s wrong with me these days.” He chuckles. He starts tapping his long fingers on the wheel.
“At least tonight you might get some sleep.”
Hm… Which way should you take it? As him telling you that you aren’t spending this night together in case you were hoping to; or him hinting that he hopes you do indeed shack up? Bloody hell, you are so tired of this tension.
Sleep deprivation was never good for your mental ability. At least you aren’t blurting out the question, or declaration of the Feeling we do not speak of, and just drop your head back and close your eyes. You decide to be kind to your body, it had a rough couple of days. You just need some rest.
You sleep the rest of the ride without any dreams.
The car stops, and Thea’s climbing out of the back.
“See you around, Dr. T.”
She gives him a radiant smile, and he lifts a brow. She guffaws and slams the door closed. You are going to fucking kill her!
You reach for the handle, but his voice stops him.
“Give me a ring tomorrow?” What now? He’s dumping it on you? No bloody way! “After you talk to Maya, I’m sure she’s already heard of your success.” Oh, even better, that’s what he is about here. You shift on the seat.
“Sure. I have your card, so I’ll text you how it went.”
Repeat after me, Dr. Sexy: Wren Leary has a spine and is an independent woman in her own right.
“Lovely.” He smiles a lazy smile. You hate him so much right now.
He leans in and gives you a light kiss on the lips. Well, that’s just low.
Your smile is much less natural, and you dart out of the Land Rover. Thea’s waiting for you at the steps with both your suitcases. The engine purrs, and he’s gone. You pick up your bag.
“Not a fucking word, Thea.”
She chuckles and shakes her head. You know you are pathetic, you really don’t need her to remind you about it.
You can’t sleep. You are pressing your face into your pillow, but the cursed organ wouldn’t stop buzzing. Not that organ, the brain! You are too cold, then too hot; you’re wiggling your toes, rubbing your eyes, toss, and bloody turn.
You are a big girl, you know that you can’t sleep because you want to be curled up into his warm side, nuzzle and purr, but it is not possible! Common, Wren, just accept it. It is Sunday night. You need to sleep, tomorrow you are going to the lab, and will have to face Dr. Maya “Alex Forrest” Caulfield, and before it you have classes, where you will probably run into your ex boyfriend you had a wet dream about in your current lover’s car, since that is your luck these day.
Your phone announces in the voice of Benedict Cumberbatch ‘I’ve got a text.’ You peek.
What the actual fuck? What does he mean, of course you are! It is bloody two o’clock in the morning.
Doing what? Well, that’s one step up from ‘What are you wearing?’ but still… Or are you reading too much into it? He can’t sleep, since he doesn’t sleep and decided to check if you were. You fidget a bit and then type.
Anything interesting? See, Wren, it is not phone sex, he’s just bored. Wow, did you just assume that was phone sex?!
You look at your bed table. Water, watch, nail file, pile of articles for uni. C’mon, Wren, what is a decent reading material for a girl in your position? Not too brainy but not Twilight. You shudder, you would never!..
Margaret Atwood. Good, decent, feminist, perfect choice.
Should I leave you alone with Ms Atwood?
Ahhhh, you are going to bang your head into a wall. What are you supposed to answer to this? Does he realize he’s constantly putting you into circumstances where you have to choose whether to be independent or to behave clingy? Oh, wait, of course he does! He’s doing it on purpose, being his usual manipulative wanker self! Alright, the war is on!
I’ll take you over her. She doesn’t provide enough stimulation.
The pause stretches. Ha!
Knowing you she is probably just exhausted.
What? Now you are the sex bunny in this relationship? He didn’t let you sleep for two nights straight, there wasn’t a single meal that wasn’t interrupted by his grabby hands, to say nothing of the shower. You will forever blush now when seeing a loofah, and you are the exhausting one now?!
Well she isn’t young anymore. Maybe she needs to take it easy.
You are tempted to answer “Perv” but let’s face it you were the one who offered to blindfold you last night. Not thinking about it right now, Wren. You are tapping your fingers on the comforter. You are not going to type anything right now: it’s obviously the moment that if you answer it means you are trying to prolong this conversation. His text wasn’t a question, you have nothing to say. Damn it, John, don’t be a tosser, write something!
I can’t sleep without you.
Oh my fucking God. Your hands are shaking. You start biting the skin around your nail, the habit you abandoned many years ago. Panic, panic, panic! Fuck, you are so happy right now.
Can’t sleep without you either. Should you add that you miss him, or that’s too much? Too much. You hit “send” and bite into the edge of the comforter.
I miss you. Good night, Wren.
What is a girl to do in this situation?
Miss you too. Night, John.
You fall back into your bedding, laughing, and dangling your feet in the air. Fuck, that feels so fucking good!