35

Stefan

By the time I got home, it was well past midnight. I went directly to my room, not sure if she'd have done as she'd been told or not, but there she was, asleep in my bed. She was still dressed and on top of the sheets. Her arm hung over the side, and a book lay facedown on the floor.

She must have been waiting up for me. Or trying to.

I watched her for a few minutes. She wore white shorts and a yellow tank top, and long wisps of chestnut hair had fallen all over her back and arm. Her legs had tanned a little, and looking at her bare feet turned in a little at the toes, it made her look like a child. Like she needed protection.

And she did.

More than she knew.

I touched her face. She made a sound and turned away, still asleep. I picked up her book. When Nietsche Wept. I raised my eyebrows.

"Interesting choice."

After setting her bookmark in the page that was open, I placed it on the nightstand, then sat on the bed and pushed the hair off her face to look at her.

She wore no make