Storm in a Teacup by Emmie Mears

Author:Emmie Mears [Mears, Emmie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-02-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I've never had a brother – not counting the one that might be running around now — and I've never had a live-in boyfriend. My selection of male clothing is zero.

Thank the gods for the internet.

After making Mason measure himself, I order him a bunch of jeans and t-shirts. All the shirts he wants are blue.

The next-day shipping with Saturday delivery is astronomical and costs me an extra hundred dollars. But I'd rather that than continue hanging around with a naked half-hellkin creature. I've very carefully kept my eyes away from his un-Ken doll areas, and the last thing I want is to be sitting on the couch and have him walk by with them at eye level.

I dig through all my clothes and finally find a pair of purple yoga pants I accidentally bought three sizes too large. They fit him, and I'm too unnerved seeing him in purple pants to snicker. None of my shirts fit him. His shoulders are too broad. I can deal with him shirtless. At least his bottom half is covered now.

My head hurts enough by midnight that I want to bury myself under my duvet and stay there. The problem is, I'm still too terrified to do that. I don't know what made me say Mason could stay in my home, and sleeping with him across the tiny hall gnaws on the last tiny nerve that I have.

I go through two and a half bowls of Marshmallow Martians before he asks me if something's wrong.

"You're anxious. And eating a lot of that stuff."

"Marshmallow Martians. My favorite cereal."

"You're anxious," he repeats.

There's no point in lying. "I'm afraid to sleep with you here." I'm still picturing being surrounded by the orange pinpricks of shades' eyes. I close my eyes and swallow a bite of cereal.

"Even though I said I wasn't going to hurt you, you are still afraid of me."

It's not a question, so I don't answer that. Instead, I shovel more marshmallows into my mouth. I always eat the cereal bits first. "You don't know what it's like. To be surrounded by twenty-three things that want you dead. More than wanting you dead. That want to eat you. You'd be scared too."

At least I think he'd be scared. Who the fuck knows?

He sits down across from me and reaches out a hand toward mine. I flinch away.

I've never been this jumpy, and I hate it. Almost as much as I hate okra. And I really hate okra.

"Please."

I don't get the please at first. Then I see that his gaze is resting on my hand. Great. He wants to hold hands. The thought makes a bubbly laugh burble past my lips. I snap my teeth shut. I'm never going to sleep like this. I can feel my pulse fluttering in my wrist.

I slurp down the rest of my cereal and stretch out my arm toward him.

His fingers touch the back of it, sliding farther so that his palm covers my hand.

His skin is warm. Not slimy.

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