Until You by Katherine L. Evans

Author:Katherine L. Evans [Evans, Katherine L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Liquid Silver Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

THE night Shannon had fallen asleep in Jack’s bed lingered in her mind for several weeks for a few reasons. One being that it had felt so natural and sweet that she wanted to do it every night, but knew she couldn’t. They weren’t quite to that point yet. She knew that, and he seemed to as well, even though they didn’t talk about it. They didn’t talk about a lot of things, it seemed. Such as her bones—which was another reason she couldn’t sleep in his bed again.

She knew he’d noticed them. It was an odd sense she had when she woke up to the feeling of his fingers pressing and inspecting her hollow, jutting hip and the sound of him saying absolutely nothing about it. Then they both got out of bed and went about their morning without speaking much.

The other reason—the main reason it seemed, at least in her mind—was the fact that she’d essentially stopped sleeping.

She couldn’t tell if she was getting little catnaps in the few intermittent moments of lying down and trying to sleep or if she was just staring at the back of her eyelids. When she wasn’t staring at her eyelids, she was up and about in her room going back and forth between tasks in a frenetic, hyperactive zombie-like manner.

Push-ups, sit-ups, squats, lunges.

Pause to sit on the bed and breathe while waiting for the tunnel vision and swimming sensation in her brain to subside.

Then to the bathroom scale.

On the scale, off the scale, on the scale, off the scale.

Wait for the lowest number, make a note of it.

Vomit for the hell of it, back on the scale, make a note.

She’d hug her own waist and hips with a tape measure.

Wrap, release, wrap, release, wrap, release, note the lowest number.

Try on the clothes, guesstimate how many inches of fabric gave as she pinched and bunched it, pulling it away from her body. It would be time for another trip to the tailor soon.

Back to the push-ups. Wait. Do some lunges. Wipe away the sweat and try not to faint.

Drink water. Water, water, water to quiet her growling stomach.

Decide water is useless. Take another blue speckled pill and continue to stave of sleep and the hollow feeling of deprivation.

None of this occurred to her as a problem. She wasn’t ever tired. Like ever. She could go through her day after a night of no sleep and not even yawn. She didn’t want to eat either. Like…ever.

The problem was one night when Jack caught her.

She was on push-up number thirty-four when he cracked open her door wearing a confused, concerned, tired-looking face.

“Shannon,” he’d said. “It’s four in the morning.”

She jumped off the floor and took a stance that made her look less frail in her thin tank top and panties—because at this point, even she knew she was looking a bit puny.

She shrugged and smiled. “I just can’t sleep. I had a coffee after dinner. Kind of a dumb idea.”

Always blame the coffee.

He seemed to stare at her, his gaze discreetly skimming over her arms and legs.

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