“I have issues of my own, Em. Don’t make me out to be perfect, when I’m not.”
“You can do no wrong,” I mutter, and August chuckles.
“If you think like that, I will do nothing but disappoint you.”
“Never going to happen.”
August shifts beneath me, and we sit in silence for a few minutes. A yawn escapes me, and then another one.
“Maybe we should try to sleep again,” August says. “You sound tired.”
“I’m always tired, but that is, by far, the worst idea you’ve ever had. Sleeping lets the monsters out.”
But I still close my eyes and let my mind wander.
And then it snags, and I can’t think of anything else.
August accepts me just as I am.
CHAPTERFOUR
EMERY
God, I’m horny. Last night has been replaying over and over in my mind, and I know,I know, I’m hyper-focusing, but I can’t let it go. I want to do it again and again.
I shift on top of August, and he grunts.
“Can’t stay still?”
“No, but you accept me just as I am, so deal.”
He chuckles and then flips the sleeping bag off of us, and I roll off him. My breath comes out in a white puff, and I shiver until August pulls the emergency blanket over my shoulders and tucks me underneath it. In the morning light, I can see the angry red slashes across his face and his swollen lower lip, but he doesn’t mention either. He just smiles softly at me.
Like he adores me.
Which is crazy, so I’m probably hallucinating it.
I’m near death, apparently.
“How was the rest of the night?” he asks, pulling out his toothbrush. “I think you slept a little. At one point you were snoring.”
I watch him brush his teeth and feel myself getting hard just from looking at his mouth. And then, he hands me his toothbrush, and I scrub my teeth absently.
“I do not snore.”
“You do. It was cute.”
I huff and August eyes me. “So, you slept well?”
“Well, I didn’t wake up screaming, so apparently so.”
“Good,” August says and then asks, “What do you want for breakfast? We have cereal and some granola bars.”
I open my mouth to reply, but he just holds up a hand. “No candy. Not yet.”
I pout like I’m three years old.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he chuckles and hands me a granola bar and my pack containing my insulin. I measure out what I think I’ll need and inject myself. August watches curiously, and I smirk at him.