But I couldn’t help it. Nor could I help standing up and going down the hall to see if her bedroom door was open.

Moving silently, I picked my way carefully through the dark, knowing if she woke up and saw me watching her in the dark she was going to think I was a fucking creeper. Maybe I was. Did creepers know they were creepers? I felt normal enough, but hell, maybe I wasn’t. If abnormal is your normal, you feel normal, right?

Her door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open a little further so I could see her bed. There was a stream of moonlight coming from her window. She hadn’t closed her blinds. The light illuminated her curled up on her bed, on her side, her comforter wedged between her legs so that I could see the long shape of her calves and her thighs. She had changed into a tank top, and her hair spilled in dark layers across her white sheets.

Maybe part of me wanted her to wake up. Maybe I wanted to see fear in her eyes. Not because I wanted her to be afraid but because when someone is scared of you, you’re no longer vulnerable. They don’t have any power over you.

“What is it?” she whispered suddenly, surprising me.

She didn’t look awake. Even now, her eyes were still closed, and I wasn’t sure how she had known I was there. She definitely didn’t look afraid, and she clearly trusted me enough to keep her eyes closed.

Naive, that’s what she was.

It made me angry with her. What if I was there to hurt her? She’d be in serious trouble before she could even think to fight back. She needed to be smarter. Tomorrow I needed to talk to her about that.

“I can’t sleep,” I told her. “Sorry. I was just looking for company.” That was only half of the truth.

“Me either.”

“You look asleep.”

Her eyes finally opened, and her soft lips parted. “Am I talking in my sleep? Or dreaming then?”

I shook my head slowly. “No. I don’t think I would be the man of your dreams.” Then without waiting for permission or an invitation, I ignored the intent behind my words and went over to her bed.

She drew in her breath, startled, when I lay down next to her. How could I explain to her that I didn’t want to be alone? I couldn’t. So I just lay on my back and stilled my body so I wouldn’t scare her. “Do you mind?” I finally asked.

“No,” she whispered.

“Night.”

“Lift your head,” she said.

“What?” I turned and saw she had one of her pillows and she was offering it to me. I lifted my head and she tucked it behind me.

I looked away. God, this was so bad. Things were stirring in me, things that shouldn’t be.

Resolutely, I closed my eyes and counted backwards from one hundred. I got somewhere around fifteen when I lost consciousness.

Dreaming about Iggy, my mother’s latest piece-of-shit boyfriend, the knife in his hand when he threatened her, I felt the anxiety crawling up my spine, my fists clenching. When a hand touched my shoulder, I jerked awake and instinctively sat up, hand going out to grab the throat of my cellmate in warning to stay the fuck away from me.

Except I wasn’t in jail.

I was in Robin’s bed, and I was only inches from her throat with my outstretched hand. I dropped it quickly at the look of stunned horror on her face. “Sorry, sorry. Jesus, I’m sorry. I was dreaming. I thought I was still in jail.”

Her expression smoothed out. She was standing next to the bed, hair tumbling forward as she leaned over me.

“No, no, I shouldn’t have touched you. I’m sorry. I was just awake and going to make coffee and your phone keeps buzzing. I wasn’t being nosy, but when your screen lit up I could see that Tyler has texted you like four times.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry.”

I shook my head, swallowing hard and tossing my hair out of eyes. I still felt groggy. “No, it’s cool. Thanks. I hope I didn’t scare you.” I knew I had, though. She had curled back up inside herself, and when I moved to push the sheet back, she flinched.

My thought had been that it would be easier if she was afraid of me, but it wasn’t. I despised it.

“No, it’s fine. Do you want coffee?”

“Sure. Thanks.” I searched her face. For what, I wasn’t sure. “You hungry? I could make you breakfast.”

“You cook?” Her arms dropped. “Really?”

I gave her a half smile, pleased that she seemed to have forgotten her fear. “It was either that or starve, so yes, I can cook. Sort of. I’m no Iron Chef, but whatever.”

“Oh. Cool. That would be great. I’ll start the coffee.”

Swinging my legs out of bed, I reached for my phone as she went down the hall. There were four texts from Tyler. He seemed to think I was in trouble since I hadn’t come back to the house. I appreciated the concern, but I wasn’t going back until Robin was sick of me. This might be my only chance to hang out with her.

It’s fine, bro. I’m with a girl.

He just didn’t need to know which girl.

She was in the kitchen, and now that she was wearing a tank top and tiny stretchy shorts, I could see her body much better than when she had been swimming in that T-shirt and denim shorts. It was enough to get my blood pumping without coffee. She didn’t seem to realize how hot she was though, just giving me a shy smile as she reached for two mugs, the tank riding up to expose her smooth skin.

Fuck.

I went into her fridge to see if there was any food in there at all I could do something with and to get a blast of cold air. Plus hide my hard-on.

“Do you ever eat?” I asked her, eyeing the pathetic selection in her fridge. It was mostly filled with condiments and string cheese. There were eggs, though, and a loaf of bread that when I squeezed it, felt a little stale.

“Of course I eat. I just don’t cook. I eat simple stuff.”

“Do you have syrup?”

“Yes. For my frozen waffles.”

“Those taste like cardboard,” I told her, pulling out the eggs and bread. “I’ll make you some French toast then.”

“Really?” She looked dubious.

“Sure, why not?”

As I cracked eggs into a bowl I found in the cupboard, she poured out the coffee. “Do you want cream and sugar?”

“No. Just black.”

“So do you have to do anything today?” she asked.

“No. I can find a ride home, don’t worry about it.” Even if I was making her breakfast, I had probably outstayed my welcome.

“I was just thinking that if you’re not busy, maybe we could go to Eden Park. There’s a free concert there, and I was going to go and sketch.”

My hand stilled as I was about to dip a slice of bread in the egg. “I don’t have any plans, no,” I said, my throat suddenly tight. “That sounds cool.”

She shifted a coffee mug toward me on the counter, and when I looked up at her, she was smiling. “I have an extra sketchbook if you want to borrow it.”

Oh damn, I was in trouble. If I had any sense at all, I would get the hell out of there and never come back. But a cactus isn’t going to tell a rainstorm to go fuck itself. I had never had anyone offer me this sort of innocent friendship. I wanted it like the greedy motherfucker that I was.

“Cool. Thanks.” Then I took a huge sip of my coffee, knowing I was going to scald the shit out of the roof of my mouth. I wanted to. I wanted the pain to ground me. “Shit,” I cursed, when the liquid burned tender flesh.

“Are you okay?” She looked alarmed. “Do you want some ice?”

“I’m fine.” Which wasn’t true at all. Focusing on scraping my tongue over the raw spot, I finished making the French toast, flipping it from one side to the other as it cooked, then dropping to the kitchen floor to do some sit-ups to burn off the anxiety I was feeling.

“What are you doing?” She gaped at me.

“Just some crunches.” I liked to sweat, to work out. It made me feel above my body. I pushed hard, knowing she probably thought I was a complete tool, but figuring this was the reality of it. I shouldn’t hide the fact that I was not a well-adjusted, middle-class college student like the guys she probably usually hung out.