CHAPTER FOUR          between the sheets

"Do you ever stop to think about what you're doing?"

JOE LET ME use his shower (I was pleasantly surprised with his high-end hair products) and some clothes. The pain from my head was gone for the most part, despite the tenderness in the back of my head. As for my nose, it's still swollen and sore.

Joe sat at the other end of the couch, watching the television screen intently. I'm not supposed to be looking at screens, so I finger the pages of the decor magazines the athlete had lying on the coffee table. I get bored quickly.

"I think I'm going to head to bed. Do you have a blanket I could use?" I ask Joe, pulling the strings on his extremely large jogging pants. He pauses the movie to glance at me with a puzzled expression. "Are the blankets on the bed not enough? I can turn the temp up if you're that cold."

I shake my head, "No, I was going to take the couch so you can sleep in your own bed." Joe rolls his eyes, unamused. I shrink back into the couch. "It feels wrong making you sleep on your couch instead of your own bed."

"Get up," Joe huffs, tugging me by the arm. I push myself up, holding the pants around my waist so they don't fall. He leads me to the bedroom, where the motions to the bed. "If you feel that bad, we can share, as long as you're comfortable."

I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking it over. I don't want to make things awkward, but he genuinely doesn't seem to mind- but I don't want him to feel obligated. "I don't wanna be a burden," I say, looking up to him.

Joe scoffs, pulling the blankets back. "It doesn't bother me. You mind if I take my shirt off?" He asks, his hands already reaching for the back of his shirt. "Oh, um, go for it."

He pulls it off with ease, discarding it on the floor. He clicks the television off. He glances back to me, an embarrassed look blushing his face. "Sorry, I can't have any noise on when I sleep. Does that bother you? I could turn it back on." I climb into the bed, pulling my hair back and into a ponytail. "That's actually perfect. I can't either."

"Nice," Joe quips, shutting the door slightly. He clicks the lamp off before walking around the bed and sliding into the sheets. "If you need anything, wake me up. And if you wake up and think about taking the couch, tell me. I really don't mind."

I nod in the dark, before realizing he can't see me. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Night."

I turn away from him, facing the wall. I curl into a ball, pulling the blankets around it. This mattress is so soft- it practically molds to my shape. I sigh in content before letting the sleep pull me away.

---

The house hummed softly, waking me up to a quiet, peaceful atmosphere. I open my eyes, thanking God that the throbbing in my head has disappeared fully, despite the tenderness. My eyes land on Joe's sleeping figure- his arm wrapped around a pillow; his eyebrows furrowed with sleep. My heart rate creeps up as my mind races.

Who the hell is this guy?

I'm in his house, under his blankets, in his bed. And I don't even know his last name. This is so absurd. My survival instincts are obviously nonexistent. What are we even doing? Why does everything feel so... uncomfortable?

I watch the shadows settle across the ceiling as the anxiety creeps into the edges of my mind. Before I can spiral any further, there is a soft shift beside me. He moves closer, warmth radiating across the space left between us. I freeze, worried he's awake.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice gravely with half-consciousness. I slowly turn my head to look at him- his face is half buried in the pillow, his eyes still closed. "Yeah. Just thinking," I say back quietly, trying to sound as normal as I can.

Joe shifts again, this time closer to me; his arm brushes mine softly. Why is he doing that? "About what?" he asks, his voice barely audible. "Nothing important," I answer. How would I even begin to explain I was a hair away from having an internal panic attack from being in his bed?

"Tell me," he requests. I shift uncomfortably. "It's just that... you're a stranger... and I'm in your bed." I internally cringe at how stupid I sound, and feeling face redden. Please keep your eyes closed, Joe.

"I mean, you don't think I'm a bad stranger to be in bed with, do you?"

My eyes widen at his comment, and I glance at him. He's peaking at me through squinted eyes, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.

And my face is now burning.

I force out an awkward chuckle. "I mean, yeah. Haha."

Please, take me now, God.

My stomach is clenched with anxiety and I'm desperately searching for a way out of this situation. He shifts again, this time turning towards me just a little more. His hand brushes over the sheets, resting against my upper arm. "Do you ever stop to think about what you're doing?" I blurt.

He doesn't react immediately- after a second, he says, "No. If I did, I'd go crazy," like the question didn't even phase him. "Thoughts about the Burrow residence? Any complaints?" he teases, and I can feel his eyes on me.

His voice is clear and steady now, so there's no getting out of this weird, uncomfortable situation. I can't seem to focus on anything besides the way his presence fills the entire room and how his fingers are brushing against mine. "You don't- like- have to be this... close," I say shakily. His eyes trail from our touching hands and to my own. "I don't have to be this close?" he repeats, his voice sultry, tantalizing, taunting.  

"No," I turn to face him, and that's when I really notice how close we've gotten. I can feel his soft breathing mixed into the subtle tension between us. I can see the different shades of blue in his eyes, the small cut on his chin (probably from when I walked in on him shaving), the slight way his jaw tightens, and even the way his breath catches.

His gaze leaves my eyes and drops to my mouth. Are we really about to kiss? The tension is so thick, its suffocating, but neither of us pull away. His hand somehow found itself grazing the bare skin of my waist under his shirt. A shiver runs up my spine at the contact. Like some invisible force is pulling me closer, I find myself leaning in to help close the space between us.

We're stuck in the middle, his lips grazing mine. Neither of us move- time stands still as we both bask in the decision. His eyes flicker up to mine and bam- we both seem to flinch away from the position we found ourselves in.

I twist at my fingers, internally cringing. "How's breakfast sound?" he asks quickly, throwing the blanket off his shirtless frame. "Good," I croak, staring blankly at the wall. There's no way that just happened. "I'll be in the kitchen," he bares a quick smile before disappearing into the hallway.

I immediately press my hands into my cheeks to try to stead my breathing. My hands tremble as I squeeze the sheets into my palms. Did that actually happen? Did we almost kiss?

I keep replaying what just happened- his hand against my skin, the way he looked at me, gosh that look. It's like he saw right through me and didn't even care about what he saw.

And the feeling of his lips brushing mine.

It's like something I've never felt before, and I need it more than anything.

Everything feels so unsteady that I can't even be sure that actually just happened. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the image of Joe leaning in is burned into the back of my eyelids- I immediately open them again.

Clattering from the kitchen causes me to release the breath I didn't know I was holding. With a shaking hand- who am I kidding, a shaking everything, I push the blankets off and rise to my wobbling feet. The thought of facing Joe is so overwhelming that I want to crawl back under the sheets and hide. Instead, I step into the kitchen.

I'm met with Joe's still shirtless frame- I admire the way his back muscles flex as he moves. "Hey, it's almost done," he says as he glances over his shoulder. Almost done? How long was I in there? I snap out of my daze, giving him a forced smile.

I take the same seat I did at dinner, pulling my knees against my chest. I lay my head on them, staring out of the large window that overlooks the trees behind his house. "Everything okay?" he asks as he sets down a glass of orange juice before me. I look up at him, the knots in my stomach tightening. I nod, pressing my lips together.

He doesn't seem to notice my nervousness. He moves back to the stove and I turn back to the window. I never even told Shayla. I should text her.

"Wait, where's my phone?" I ask aloud. Joe reaches over the counter to unplug my device. He brings it, alongside a plated breakfast, to me. "Thanks," I say, taking the device from him. I quickly unlock it- taking notice of the numerous amounts of texts from my new roommate. 'im safe, ill explain when i come home'. Send.

I put the device down and look at the plate before me. Bacon, eggs, and... avocado toast. I turn my nose up at it, pushing it away from the rest of the food. "Is it nasty?" Joe asks as he bites into a piece of bacon. "No, no, it's just- I'm allergic to avocado," I say sheepishly, picking up the fork. "Really?" he responds, surprised. "I've never heard of anyone being allergic. Go figure." He eats the rest of the bacon before raising his eyebrows in realization. "Wait, do I need to cook new everything? I don't want to be the reason you have an allergic reaction."

I dig my fork into the sunny side up egg. "No, it's not that bad." I drag it across the yolk, watching the yellow run out and onto the white. How is he acting so normal?

I eat a little of the food, not wanting to be ungrateful. My nerves are just too shot right now to eat. "Want me to bring you home when we finish?" he asks, sipping from his own glass of juice. I nod, putting my fork down on the plate.

"You done?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah," I sigh, avoiding his gaze. "Not very hungry."

"Well, we can go now, then," he says, rising to his feet. I pick up the plate, walking over to the sink. Joe meets me there, taking the plate from my hand. "Talullah, it's okay, I got it," he says. I muster up the courage to look up at him. He has a small smile on his face, his eyes crinkled.

I have to rip my eyes away. "I'm... I'm gonna go get my stuff," I say as I move around him, quickly walking out of the kitchen.

I dash into the bedroom, quickly putting my socks and sneakers on. The faster I get out of here, the better.

After leaving the house, we climb into his car. I already got the address from Shayla, so Joe gave me his phone to type it in. "While you're there, go ahead and add your number to it."

"Why, miss me already?" sarcastically slips from my mouth. I slap a hand over my mouth in surprise. Joe takes a quick glance at me to laugh. It comes deep from his chest and pulls a small smile from me. To avoid further embarrassment, I just quickly add myself to his contacts and hand him the device back.

The ride is quiet and awkward- for me, at least. Joe doesn't seem to mind. He hums every now and then, taking up space and not thinking anything of it. I, on the other hand, and trying to shrink as much as possible.

The torture is only over when he pulls into the driveway of my new home. Shayla's black Bronco is parked in the driveway, so I know I can actually rest in my own space.

"Well, this is my stop," I say lightly, my hand already gripping the door handle. "Hey, I'm really sorry about everything. I don't want your first impression of me to be ruined by the whole concussion thing," he says with a grin. I offer one back, clicking my seatbelt off. "It's okay. Thanks for letting me stay, and taking care of me and all that. You didn't have to."

"I didn't mind. It was nice, actually," Joe says, his eyes soft. My stomach begins to turn as the tension between us begins to build once again. I need to get out of here before I suffocate.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around?" I half-way ask, pulling the handle. The door pops open. "I'd like that."

"Okay, bye!" I squeal, desperate to jump out of the car. "Bye, Talullah," Joe says, watching as I shut the door. I don't look back- I dart up the driveway and bang on the door as hard as I can. It flies open after a few seconds, and I practically push Shayla out of the way. I instantly collapse into the couch, screaming into the leather cushion. "Girl, what the hell is wrong? And who was that? And whose clothes are you wearing?"

I lift my head up to look at her, frowning. "I have a lot to tell you."