Counterpoint (Hystoria #3)

7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

“What do you mean you only have one room?” Simon asks the poor girl working at the reception. “We just reserved two. How can one be gone?” The receptionist looks at us apologetically, then she glances down at her computer screen, visibly nervous.

“I’m very sorry, but it seems there was a mistake with the synchronization of the app and our actual availabilities. We only have one room available at the moment.” Her fingers are shaking, and the poor girl seems terrified. Simon’s eye twitches, and before he can open his mouth and chew out the poor girl any further, I shove myself between him and the counter to take over the conversation, shushing him with a stern glance when he tries to protest.

“Would you be able to check if there is any other accommodation nearby?” I inquire with a friendly smile, elbowing Simon when he tries to shove me to the side. The receptionist smiles at me thankfully and taps her fingers on the keyboard, checking our options.

“I’m afraid all other places in town are fully booked due to the winter season and Thanksgiving tourism,” she stammers. “But one of our hotels, about a 45-minute drive north, still has two rooms open. Would you like me to go ahead and reserve them for you?”

“Don’t bother. I don’t want to drive there just to be told they’re not available after all,” Si answers her snarkily, and I elbow him once more. We don’t have many alternatives, and I’m too tired to search the area for another hotel, especially if she’s already saying chances are slim with the current amount of tourism. And he’s tired as well, not that he’d admit that. The yawn he’s trying to hide speaks for itself. I’m not keen to get into the car again when both of us are exhausted.

“Shut up, Simon.” An exasperated sigh escapes me. Seems he’s not that uncomplicated about hotels after all. “I’ll take the goddamn couch, and we can share the room.” I roll my eyes before I face the girl again. “Thank you for checking-” I squint my eyes to make out what’s written on her nametag. “-Rachel. I appreciate it. We’d like to take the room.”

Her smile goes from service-smile to genuine, only for a moment. Her fingers dance over the keyboard, and finally, she hands me a key card with an apologetic expression.

“Again, I am really sorry for the inconvenience. I will have additional bedding brought to your room shortly and add a complimentary breakfast to your stay. If there is anything else I can do to make your stay more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

I thank her and pull Simon away from the reception by his sleeve, towards where I assume our room is. He’s trying to protest, without a doubt tempted to play the ‘get me a manager’ card, but I’m not having it. He is pouting and complaining under his breath the whole way; whether it’s because he has to share a room with me or because I didn’t let him chew out the girl, I don’t know. Whatever he’s saying goes into one ear and right out the other one.

Opening the door, we find a small but cozy hotel room. The majority of it is occupied by the double bed, leaving only small paths to actually walk in the room. A couch is crammed into a corner opposite the bed, and I grimace when I realise how small it is.

“I’ll take the couch,” Si says firmly, interrupting my thoughts. He takes a step towards it, but I grab his arm again to stop him.

“No, you’re not. You’re not even going to fit on there,” I protest and eye the piece of furniture skeptically. Even I’m not going to fit on there comfortably. I doubt Simon could even manage to lie down on there unless he likes sleeping with his knees right under his chin.

“Your brother is going to kill me if he learns that I’m letting you sleep on the couch,” he mumbles. I shake my head.

“Why do you keep bringing Jake up? Do you think I’m letting my brother fight all my battles for me?” I ask him angrily. Seriously, does he only take me seriously because he’s friends with Jake? But he ignores me, pulling his arm from my grasp and walking the four steps to the couch, throwing his bag and himself on it.

“Tough luck, shortie, I’m taking the couch anyways.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at me expectantly.

I imitate his pose and glare at him, but then I shrug. If he wants to sleep on a couch that he can’t even sit on properly because it’s so small, he can go right ahead. “Fine, have it your way. And when you’re whining tomorrow because your back is sore or you pulled a muscle, the only thing you’ll get from me is an ‘I told you so.’”

Simon smirks, unfazed by my teasing. “I’m used to sleeping in tour bus cots that might as well be made from stone. I’ll survive. Trust me.” I bite my tongue, not mentioning that the last time he had to do that, he was in his early twenties, not almost thirties, but I mean, if the man wants to sleep on the couch that much, who am I to stop him?

I shrug and throw my bag onto the bed before I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and slip into the oversized shirt and short pants that function as my pajamas. That’s when it hits me. Fuck. I need to sleep with makeup on. I grimace at my reflection. Once I’m at Grandma’s, I’ll have to pamper my skin with face masks and creams and maybe light one of her prayer candles for good measure.

When I return, Simon has the additional bedding in his arms and is laying it out on the couch. The hotel staff must have been here.

While he’s in the bathroom, I’m getting comfortable on the bed. It’s incredibly soft and way too big to sleep in alone, but hey. Simon was so eager to take the couch—no need to offer him the other half of the bed.

When Simon steps back into the room, I switch off the main lights and leave only the bedside lamp on so he won’t run against any furniture on his way to the couch. Aren’t I considerate?

“Good night, Si,” I say softly as I pull the blanket over me.

“Good night, Harp,” he replies, his tone surprisingly gentle.

I jolt awake, abruptly sitting up straight in bed, a whimper on my lips. Fuck. I’ve had another nightmare. This time, I found myself huddled in my former living room, hiding between my couch and the wall, clutching my ruffly umbrella for protection. Tom’s relentless pounding on the door echoed in the apartment, along with the dangerous cracking of the wood and my door hinges holding on for dear life.

Tears streamed down my face, and even though I’m an atheist, I found myself praying in despair. Praying that my door was strong enough. Praying that Jeff would barge into the hallway and keep Tom away. I was helpless. So damn helpless. In my dreams, I even reached for my phone, but my fingers were trembling too much to unlock it. There was nothing I could do but wait for my fate, with no way of escaping.

In my dream, my prayers didn’t help. The door started splintering, and I stifled a scream by pressing both of my hands against my trembling lips. The sound of his footsteps echoed ominously, growing louder with each passing moment. Dread gripped my heart, and my blood turned cold. Then he rounded the corner of where I was cowering, and the last thing I saw before waking up was his ice-cold eyes and the twisted grin on his face.

Now, I sit there, trembling and gasping for breath, my heart still pounding in my chest and ice-cold blood flowing through my veins. Shit. I lift my trembling fingers, wiping away the tears that are streaming down my face.

Holy shit, this is the scariest nightmare I’ve had of him yet. It’s worse than each time I was forced to go to haunted houses with Jake as a child. No, this dream felt like my own personal horror movie. It pushed all buttons perfectly in order to make me terrified, and even though I’m now aware that it was just a dream, my heart can’t seem to calm down.

The room feels suffocating, and my thoughts are racing. What if Tom finds me? What will happen then? What would have happened if my neighbors didn’t interfere?

“Harper, are you okay?” Si’s voice is laced with concern and panic, and I startle, momentarily forgetting that I’m not alone in the room. He shuffles around in an attempt to sit up on the couch. The way he unfolds his body is kind of hilarious, and I’m sure once I’ve calmed down, I’ll find it funny, but right now, I’m still in full panic mode.

I struggle to speak, my throat still constricted with fear, and I just can’t manage to catch my breath. If anything, it becomes more erratic.

“Nightmare,” I press out before burying my face in the duvet. God, it will have an imprint on my face tomorrow with the makeup. Thank God the room is dark.

I hear him get up from the couch and then his muffled footsteps on the carpet as he approaches the bed. The mattress dips where he sits down beside me, placing a careful hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles.

“It’s okay, Harp. You’re fine,” he mumbles softly, and I try to focus on his low voice and let it help distract me from all the ‘what ifs’ racing through my head. I mean, what if I’d gone through with it and married Tom? Would that have been a fate better or worse than what happened in my hallway? “Come on, Harp. Breathe with me.”

I try to adjust my breathing to his, breathing in with him, holding my breath for a moment, then exhaling. After I manage to take a few deep breaths with him, my body is finally beginning to calm down. My heart stops racing, and my fingers don’t tremble as much anymore .

“Thanks,” I manage to say, my voice still shaky and weak. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“I wasn’t asleep yet,” he replies, his hand still on my back. I raise my face from the duvet, looking at him surprised.

“Do you have nightmares too?”

“No,” he replies, something weighing heavy in his voice. “No nightmares. Just thoughts.” I nod. I know that, too, extremely well.

We remain silent for a while. My thoughts are still racing, and the shock of my nightmare only slowly dissipates. His presence beside me and his strong hand on the small of my back are strangely comforting and helping. I let myself enjoy it, only for a bit.

“You don’t have to stay up with me,” I mumble, offering him an out. He must be exhausted, and even thoughts only keep you awake for so long. I don’t want him to feel obligated to stay awake for my sake.

I also feel my eyelids growing heavy again. My exhaustion, mixed with emotional turmoil, is catching up to me. Even though sleep is trying to drag me down, I am still too scared to succumb. What if the next nightmare is even worse?

“I know I don’t. Close your eyes, Harp. I’ll stay close,” he promises softly.

I gnaw at my lip. I think having him close is helping. This is the quickest I’ve calmed down after a nightmare so far. And I still feel kind of bad about him having to fold himself onto that couch, even if he volunteered to do it.

“Can you lie down next to me?” I ask quietly. Under normal circumstances, my face would be fire hydrant red, but for some reason, asking him doesn’t feel embarrassing at all. “I think it helps to have someone close. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” he assures me and stands up from the bed. With careful movements, he rounds it and settles down on my other side. His giant frame takes up most of the bed, but I’m not complaining. It’s a reassuring warmth against my side. “Don’t tell your brother.”

I make an affirming sound as I shuffle around until I find a comfortable position that doesn’t impose on him.

“You overestimate how much I tell Jake about my life. We’re not joined at the hip, you know?” I yawn and fluff my pillow before burying my face into it. Suddenly, I’m nervous.

This is not the first time I’ve slept in a bed with a man. But I know that my heart beating fast is not only due to the nightmare anymore. He’s not close to me at all, yet my whole body is tense. Calm down, Harper. Deep breaths. It’s just Si. Just Si.

“What are your thoughts about?” I ask into the silence. “The ones that don’t let you sleep.”

“The future,” he mumbles.

“Like, death?” That makes him chuckle. I like the sound of it. He really should do it more often.

“No, not death,” he says quietly and takes a deep breath. I don’t expect him to answer further, but he surprises me. I’m not sure if it’s the darkness, laying in a bed together, or the fact he’s just seen me in a vulnerable moment as well. “What I want from life. Where to go from here? I just don’t know anymore who I am and what I want apart from my job.”

“Hm,” I make an affirming sound. “In a perfect world, how would you picture yourself? ”

He takes a while to think about it. I’m almost sure he fell asleep when his low voice answers.

“On tour with the guys. Having fun like we used to.” His voice turns even lower. “Someday, I want a family. But who would want to keep up with this mess?” I’m not sure if he wanted me to hear that, but I can’t help turning to him. He’s lying on his back, one arm behind his head, the other one laying across his stomach.

“You’re not a mess,” I say softly. His eyes are transfixed at the ceiling; at least, I think they are. It’s too dark to actually see. “You might have your exhausting traits, but all in all, you’re an okay guy. There’ll be an okay girl out there who’ll see that.”

He doesn’t answer, but I think I see a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Silence falls between us, broken after a while as he whispers, “What are your nightmares about, Harp?”

I bite my lip, not sure I want to answer. What Tom did is certainly not a secret. In fact, I’m surprised Jake didn’t tell him yet. But I don’t want him to look at me differently. I don’t think I could bear having him look at me with pity in his eyes.

“The past,” I say softly, but contrary to him, I don’t elaborate. And he doesn’t push, letting silence envelop us.

“Sleep well, Si,” I finally say when sleep is threatening to overcome me.

“Sweet dreams, Harp.”

I come awake slowly, feeling unbelievably warm. What? My eyes fly open, and I blink, confused, trying to adjust my eyes to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains that are casting a golden glow across the small room. What’s going on? I mean, it’s winter, and the hotel room definitely wasn’t that warm when I went to sleep. Is there a fire? Do I need to run?

As I turn my head, still hazy from sleep, I realise the confusing source of warmth. Si’s arm is draped around my stomach, holding me close to his chest, his chin resting on the crown of my head and his even breath gently blowing against my hair. I tense. When did that happen?

Right. I had a nightmare and asked him to sleep in bed with me. I remember that much. But he settled in so far away from me that he almost fell over the edge of the bed, so this must have been done on instinct while he was asleep. That’s surprising. I didn’t peg him for a cuddler, but I stand… or lie, corrected. And surprisingly, I’m not complaining.

This is nice. Really nice, I must admit. I take a deep breath and allow myself to relax into his embrace, closing my eyes again to drink this moment in. I didn’t think I was that touch-starved, but apparently, I am because laying here, with a strong arm around my middle, threatens to bring tears to my eyes.

He doesn’t even like me, yet it’s been so long since I’ve felt this cared for. And I know it’s kind of my own fault for staying with Tom for so long, even though he didn’t treat me well, but this highlights all I’ve ever wanted: A good cuddle and feeling safe and cared for. I fight the urge to turn around and bury my face in his shirt, greedily inhaling his new-to-me scent .

Don’t let your thoughts go there, Harper. I am not going to fall for Si just because he’s the first man in a while to pay me positive attention and make my heart beat faster. I can’t.

I open my eyes again. He’s going to freak out if he wakes up like this. I shift slightly, trying not to disturb his sleep. But his grip tightens instinctively, pulling me closer. A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. He’s clingy. That’s really damn cute.

No, Harper, he’s a grown man and definitely not ‘cute.’ He’d probably rip your head off if you ever said that to his face.

With a sigh, I push aside my emotions. If there’s one thing I’m noticing here, it’s that I need some therapy ASAP. Finding Si cute, what’s going to happen next? Will I crush on any man that smiles at me? Well, and sleeps in bed with me so I can better manage my nightmares.

I lift his heavy arm gently and quietly slip out of bed, trying not to make the mattress move too much, and let him sleep. He really seemed like he needed it.

I can’t help but take a look at him. He looks so peaceful. The lines on his forehead are smooth now, and the bags under his eyes aren’t as dark anymore. My heart flutters, and I bite my lip. Maybe sleeping next to me helped him sleep better as well, but it definitely didn’t help me in quenching my crush on him.

I tiptoe to the bathroom, glad that the carpet muffles any sound. Before I turn the corner, I look back at him. A small frown has appeared on his forehead, and he’s pulling at the blanket to cover his shoulders.

Once in the bathroom, I braid my hair and take a quick shower—a cold one to set my thoughts straight and wake up properly. I only realise my mistake when the cold water hits my skin, and I manage to muffle my squeak at the last moment. That was close.

When I get out, towels wrapped around me, I freeze when my eyes get caught in the mirror, not able to look away. The light in this bathroom is bright. So bright it not only shows any imperfections and discolorations, but it also seems to amplify them. I look like I’m fresh out of a brawl, almost my whole face a splotchy yellow. The marks on my throat look especially horrid, too, and way more pronounced than they do in warm light or daylight.

I gently examine the bruises with my fingers and the skin around them. At least they don’t hurt anymore. Now, they’re only a visible reminder of what happened. I clear my throat and turn away from the mirror—no use looking at them. I grab my foundation from my toiletry bag and quickly cover the marks. Shit, I don’t have another turtleneck with me, and I don’t want to wear the same one as yesterday.

So I cover the marks on my neck with makeup as well, dousing my skin in powder when I’m done to set it so it stays in place for the whole day.

I towel dry my hair and change into the clothes I brought, then quietly open the door to the room. I find Si barely awake, still buried under the covers. He blinks at me sleepily as I enter, his tousled hair falling over his eyes. My fingers itch to brush them out of his face, but instead, I bury my nails in the heel of my hand to resist the temptation.

“Keep sleeping,” I say quietly and set down my bag. “I’ll be at breakfast downstairs.” Without another reaction, his eyes fall close again, and his breath evens out once more before the room door clicks shut behind me .

Downstairs, I find the breakfast hall quickly and make a beeline for the coffee. Once I have the brown goodness in my hands, I find a table in the very corner of the room, somewhat obstructed from sight. I’ll assume that this is where Si is going to want to sit, so I carry my cup over there and take a seat.

I sip my cappuccino as I scroll through my phone. Jake wrote me a few more messages, but I’m ignoring them. Layla has sent me a bunch of cute pictures of their dogs, and I feel a smile spread across my face as I go through them. Gosh, they’re so cute! I reckon the best thing my brother has ever done is collect the little pittie called Starshine at that shelter and gift it to her. I consider her to be my first niece, and you better bet that she’s going to get spoiled at Thanksgiving dinner. I guess that makes Mochi my step-niece? But no worries, all nieces get spoiled by this aunty.

Then, a message from Grandma comes in.

Grandma : Hey, Love. How is the drive? Does that Simon boy behave?

I chuckle at her use of ‘boy’. I guess to her, he is, but just imagining Grandma, who’s maybe tall enough to reach his belly button, call him ‘boy’ is hilarious.

Me : It’s going fine. He has his moments. We might be quicker than I thought. I’ll keep you up to date!

Grandma : Wonderful. Can’t wait to see you.

Me : 3

About an hour later, I see Si’s tousled ginger hair enter the room, his eyes searching the tables. I take the time he doesn’t see me to examine him. He looks healthier. Less tired and more alive. I’m glad that wasn’t just a case of him looking different while asleep .

Finally, his eyes land on me, and he acknowledges me with a nod before he gets himself a coffee.

“Good morning,” I say as he sits down. I let my eyes wander over his face up close. He looks younger. Not that he’s old at twenty-nine, but looking at him yesterday, he could have told me he’s thirty-eight, and I would have believed him.

“Morning,” he answers, and I raise my eyebrow in surprise. That’s the first greeting I’ve gotten from him. Not that I’ll mention it because I am ninety-nine percent sure that’s going to have the opposite effect. Like a distant relative who always says, “Wow, nice to see you for once.” Like, yes, Aunt Helen, being greeted like this definitely makes me want to spend time with you.

After a few minutes of drinking our coffees in silence, I wordlessly stand up to get myself a plate of food. Once I sit back down, he does the same. No more words are exchanged, but somehow, this feels comfortable. And, to my dismay, it makes my heart beat faster.