Deep breaths, Noya. Dad is in a jail cell, and there’s no bail. He can’t get out unless he breaks out, and I doubt that would happen. If anything, it’s Conner being clumsy, making noise this early… wait, what’s the time?
I reach over to the bedside table and grab the phone. It’s 10:39 a.m. I slept in. It doesn’t surprise me, considering it’s my first night back from the hospital, and while I was in the hospital, I barely got much rest. There was too much noise, beeping, and talking. Even the light seeping through the room bothered me.
But here. I feel refreshed. Slightly afraid but refreshed, sleeping in bed beside…
I smooth the sheets over, noticing he’s not there.
He’s the one making the noise.
I stand, stretch, grab the pyjama shorts, and slip them on. I glance in the mirror, noticing the fixture across my nose,helping mend the broken bone. Wincing, reminding myself how it happened, I leave the room.
Conner is in the kitchen, cleaning the pots and pans his mum bought yesterday. He seems in the zone, eyes fixated on them, scanning for any lingering substance.
I slide onto the stool and rest my elbows on the kitchen bench. It glistens marvellously in the sunlight, slipping through the cracks of the blinds. “Can I ask you something, Conner?”
“Sure, baby.”
I stretch my arms out, resting them over his sopping soap hands. “I don’t want to self-diagnose you, but are you, um…”
Conner smirks and says, “Do I have obsessive-compulsive disorder?” I pull my hands away, wondering if asking is a bad idea. “Is it an issue if I did?”
“Huh?” Surprised, I straighten my posture. “Sorry?”
“Would it bother you if I saw a piece of paper on the ground, and then I had this urge to vacuum the entire home?”
I furrow my brows.
“Would it be a problem if as soon as we have sex—if we do—I’d want all the sheets cleaned with two scoops of laundry powder and a dash of fabric softener?”
“No,” I answer, shaking my head.
Conner smiles dazzlingly, showing the lines on either side of his mouth. He places the bowl he washed into the sink and comes around the island bench. I swivel in the seat, facing him. His fingers are rough and lumpy when gliding over my cheeks, but his lips are soft and intoxicating. “I was diagnosed at a young age. When your mum is a therapist, she can see things much more clearly. She found it odd when I would freak out if someone sat on my bed.” He breathes a laugh. “I have a weird obsession with my bed—I don’t care for others, just mine. Even if we got out of it briefly and then back in, I want the sheets smooth, as if no one had lain there.”
“Oh.” I slide out of the seat and race to the bedroom. “I’ll be back.”
“Noya,” he calls, but I ignore him.
I place the pillows and quilt on the ground before I tuck the fitted sheet correctly, then the other sheet over the top and smooth it down. I’ve never made my bed at the other place. I was a slob with my clothes, carelessly tossing them on the floor. It’s not like I wanted to be a slob. With a dad like mine, I had no care for my belongings because he’d destroy them at any chance he could. But here, I can be different. I can be tidier. I can for Conner.
Conner comes into the room as soon as I set the pillows back, fluffed, in an upright position.
“Better?” I ask.
He leans against the bed frame and laughs. “I’m so in love with you, Noya.”
I blush while averting my gaze. “I just… I wanted to help. We’re a team, right?”
“I’m going to clean the rest of the pots. You relax before Sammy and Dylan come over.”
“Uh…” I look around at the plastic bags on the ground… on my side of the bed. “I’m actually going to start on this.” I bite my lip, contemplating whether I want to admit this. “Is it okay if we sleep together again tonight?”
“Just tonight?” Conner questions. “I’d like to sleep with you every night, but if you only want tonight, I’m okay with that.”
“We will see how long you want me to stay.” I tap the splinter on my nose. “Dr Kim stated I’d snore more frequently because of having a broken nose.”
Conner grins and says, “I heard.” My eyes widen. “I don’t care about the noise. I slept like a baby.”
“You did? You aren’t lying to me?”