I put on a pair of his shorts and a gray T-shirt, then pause when his cologne fills my nostrils. My fingers bunch the cloth and I lift it to my nose to drag in a long inhale.
For some reason, his rich, masculine scent has a calming effect on me.
He has a calming effect on me.
I linger in the bedroom and stare at the bed. Earlier, I made him help me change the sheets as he grumbled about my OCD, but now, I can’t help thinking about the fact that I’m staying the night.
What do people do in these situations? I’ve never stayed the night with anyone before. It’s just not me.
I loathe the idea of being too close, of letting myself too loose.
But I guess I’ll have to cope for Nikolai.
I’m terrified that once he cracks me open, he’ll find me revolting. He’ll see me as I see myself in the mirror—as a black hole of nothingness.
I want to run and hide, but that means losing him.
So I stay.
It’s the least I can do.
Better pray he doesn’t finally see you for the basket case you truly are.
I try to ignore that voice as I walk out of the bedroom. Should I go check on him in the shower?
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s punching the air as if it’s his demons. I just want to make sure he’s okay, considering he falls asleep in weird positions.
My steps are silent as I walk down the hall and knock on the bathroom door. “Nikolai?”
No answer.
I knock again. “Is everything okay?”
Nothing.
My breaths are choppy as I grab the doorknob. “I’m coming in.”
My heart nearly hits the floor when I find the water flowing out of the Jacuzzi bathtub and Nikolai submerged.
No, no, no…
A ringing floods my ears as I run toward him, drop to my knees, and thrust my hands into the water to grab his shoulders.
I should’ve checked on him earlier. If anything happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself— His eyes pop open and he grins, then speaks in the water, bubbles erupting everywhere before he lifts his head.
I fall to my arse, air leaving me in long doses. Jesus Christ. Why does it feel like I just died and was resurrected?
“Lotus flower? What are you doing here? Oh! Wanna join me?”
“Why the fuck—” I cut myself off and speak in a calmer tone. “Why were you underwater?”
“Meditating.”
“Meditating?”
“Yeah.” He grins. “I can hold my breath for over four minutes.”
“Let me get this straight. You meditate by holding your breath underwater?”
“Yup. Want me to teach you?”
“You’re seriously fucking mental.”
“Is that a good thing?” He shakes his head, sending water flying everywhere.
“No, it’s not. And stop that. Are you a dog?”
“Woof.” He grabs my cheeks with wet fingers. “Let me lick your face.”
“Hard pass.” I push him away and stand up, shoving my hand behind my back to hide how much I’m shaking. “Don’t do that again. It’s dangerous. You could fall asleep and drown.”
“I love it when you’re worried about me, baby.”
“Just come out.” I head to the door and throw a glance behind me. “And you better clean up this mess.”
“Okay, Mom!” he shouts behind me.
I head back to the bedroom and change into a dry T-shirt and shorts.
Wearing his clothes feels is like I’m wrapped up in the cocoon of his arms. It’s weirdly intimate.
A good weird, though.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I check on my cousin Creighton. Uncle Aiden took him back to London after he nearly managed to get himself killed. And while I hate that he dragged Nikolai down with him and he’s the main reason why Nikolai even slit his throat, Creigh got the short end of the stick. We really thought he wouldn’t make it.
Although he’s alive, he’s been in a foul mood, and I worry about him.
He does reply to me, though it’s monosyllabic. It’s enough for now.
I text Remi, then tell him and Lan that I’m staying the night at the school’s art studio to finish a project.
They reply right away.
Remi
Mate, I’m telling you this with the sincerest love, but the only time you should spend the night somewhere is if you’re shagging. Don’t be a nerd.
If only he knew the truth.
Lan
What project?
Of course he’d be suspicious. It wouldn’t be Lan otherwise. But for some reason, I like that he checks on me all the time. Even if he’s doing it out of a sense of narcissism. Being his identical twin means I can’t reflect badly on his pristine image.