Hopeless (Hopeless #1)(60)
After I read the text I jump out of bed and lock my bedroom door, thankful Karen called it an early night two hours ago. I immediately go to the bathroom and brush my teeth and hair, then turn out the lights and crawl back into bed. It’s after midnight and he’s never snuck in while Karen was home before. I’m nervous, but it’s an exciting nervous. The fact that I don’t feel the least bit guilty that he’s on his way over is proof that I’m going to Hell. I’m the worst daughter ever.
Several minutes later, my window slides up and I hear him making his way inside. I’m so excited to see him that I run to meet him at the window and wrap my arms around his neck, then jump up and make him hold me while I kiss him. His hands have a firm grip on my ass and he walks to the bed, dropping me down gently.
“Well, hello to you, too,” he says, smiling widely. He stumbles slightly, then falls on top of me and brings his lips to mine again. He’s trying to kick off his shoes but he struggles, then starts laughing.
“Are you drunk?” I ask.
He presses his fingers to my lips and tries to stop laughing, but he can’t. “No. Yes.”
“How drunk?”
He moves his head to my neck and runs his mouth lightly along my collarbone, sending a surge of heat through me. “Drunk enough to want to do bad things to you, but not drunk enough that I would do them drunk,” he says. “But just drunk enough to still remember them tomorrow if I did do them.”
I laugh, completely confused by his answer, yet completely turned on by it at the same time. “Is that why you walked here? Because you’ve been drinking?”
He shakes his head. “I walked here because I wanted a goodnight kiss and thankfully I couldn’t find my keys. But I wanted one so bad, baby. I missed you so bad tonight.” He kisses me and his mouth tastes like lemonade.
“Why do you taste like lemonade?”
He laughs. “All they had were these fruity froufrou drinks. I’m drunk off fruity froufrou girl drinks. It’s really sad and unattractive, I know.”
“Well, you taste really good,” I say, pulling his mouth back to mine. He moans and presses himself against me, dipping his tongue further into my mouth. As soon as our bodies connect on the bed, he pulls away and stands up, leaving me breathless and alone on the mattress.
“Time to go,” he says. “I already see this heading somewhere I’m too drunk to go right now. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
I jump up and run and block the window before he can leave. He stops in front of me and folds his arms over his chest. “Stay,” I say. “Please. Just lay in bed with me. We can put pillows between us and I promise not to seduce you since you’re drunk. Just stay for an hour, I don’t want you to go yet.”
He immediately turns and heads back to the bed. “Okay,” he says simply. He throws himself onto my bed and pulls the covers out from beneath him.
That was easy.
I walk back to the bed and lay down beside him. Neither of us places a pillow between us. Instead, I throw my arm over his chest and entwine my legs with his.
“Goodnight,” he says, brushing my hair back. He kisses my forehead and closes his eyes. I tuck my head against his chest and listen to the rhythm of his heart. After several minutes, his breathing and heart rate have both regulated and he’s sound asleep. I can’t feel my arm anymore, so I gently lift it off of him and quietly roll over. As soon as I get situated on my pillow, he slides his arm over my waist and his legs over mine. “I love you, Hope,” he mutters.
Um…
Breathe, Sky.
Just breathe.
It’s not that hard.
Take a breath.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to tell myself I did not just hear what I thought I heard. But he said it clear as day. And I honestly don’t know what breaks my heart more—the fact that he called me by someone else’s name, or the fact that he actually said love this time instead of live.
I attempt to talk myself down from rolling over and punching him in his damn face. He’s been drinking and he was half asleep when he said it. I can’t assume she really means something to him when it could have just been a dream. But…who the hell is Hope? And why does he love her?
Tuesday, February 2nd, 1999 9:30 p.m.
I’m sweating because it’s hot under these covers, but I don’t want to take them off my head. I know if the door opens, it won’t matter if I have covers on or not, but I feel safer with them on anyway. I poke my fingers out and lift the piece of cover up that’s in front of my eyes. I look at the doorknob like I do every night.
Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Please, don’t turn.
It’s always so quiet in my room and I hate it. Sometimes I hear things that I think might be the doorknob turning and it makes my heart beat really hard and really fast. Right now, just staring at the doorknob is making my heart beat really hard and really fast, but I can’t stop staring at it. I don’t want it to turn. I don’t want that door to open, I don’t.
Everything is so quiet.
So quiet.
The doorknob doesn’t turn.
My heart stops beating so fast, because the doorknob never turns.
My eyes get really heavy and I finally close them.
I’m so glad that tonight’s not one of the nights that the doorknob turns.
It’s so quiet.