Adrian chuckles, then stands. “I’ll be right back. Need to wash up.”
He heads into the bathroom, and Karl whispers so Adrian can’t hear us from down the hallway.
“Don’t ask him about his parents,” Karl says.
“Why not?”
“It’s a hard subject for him. He watched as they were murdered. I think that’s why he’s as messed up as he is. He was just a kid.”
My hand floats to my heart. “Oh.” I know from interviews and media coverage that his parents were gone, but the details aren’t public knowledge.
I can’t begin to imagine what that must be like. I didn’t witness my parents dying, and even if I had, they weren’t murdered before my eyes. No wonder Adrian looks like he’s always in pain. My heart constricts thinking of such a beautiful man masking so much darkness.
“You know,” Adrian says as he rejoins us, “I was thinking we could form the Sad Orphan Club.”
I laugh.
“Can I be in it?” Karl asks.
“You just said your parents aren’t dead,” Adrian says. “You can’t be an orphan if your parents are alive.”
“You know,” Karl says, looking at me now, “the Sad Orphan Club would be a great band name.”
“How gloomy, though. Maybe for an emo band. Besides, I already have a name for my band,” I say triumphantly.
“You play?” Adrian asks with interest.
“Just started. Karl is teaching me.”
“She any good?” Adrian asks Karl, but I answer.
“It’s only been a couple of days.”
Karl flashes his toothy grin when he answers. “Iggy’s a natural.”
And for some reason my brain can’t understand, Karl’s praise lands in the same section of my heart that houses my mom’s comfort chicken soup. I don’t know if it’s his praise because we’re friends, or because he’s the best living guitar player in the world, or simply because I care about him, but the compliment does wonders for my playing confidence.
“Thank you, Karl,” I say, only a little teary-eyed.
He rolls his eyes. “Well, don’t cry about it.”
* * *
A cold,wet slug swipes over my face. Fast. Too fast to be a slug. I startle awake to find Pixel standing over me, licking my face. “Pix,” I hiss. “You creepy dog. You have to stop waking me up!”
In response, Pixel pulls on my bedsheets to get them off my body. “Do you have to go out?” I ask her. She just stares at me, which means she doesn’t. When Pix has to go outside to relieve herself, she bolts to the door when we ask her.
She pulls on the bedsheet again. I wipe the sleep from my eyes at the same time that I hear a small whimper. Where is that coming from?
I get out of bed and follow the sound, Pixel trailing behind me. It’s coming from the other guest room. Adrian’s room. We stayed up so late talking, he ended up crashing here. I press my ear to the door and can hear him grunting and talking in his sleep. The words are jumbled, and I can’t understand most of them, but I hear a “no,” and “stop” clear as day. I twist the doorknob gently, and he’s under the covers. I walk up to the side of the bed. His face sparkles with perspiration under the moonlight, and his neck looks like he’s straining.
Fuck. He’s having a nightmare. What do I do? Do I wake Karl up? Would he even know what to do? I follow my instincts because if I were him, I’d want to be woken up. I nudge him gently.
“Adrian,” I whisper. “Adrian, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
He finally startles awake and gulps air like he was drowning. He looks around the room frantically as he becomes oriented to the time and place. “What—”
“You were having a nightmare.”