Like rain on her window, he comes to her at night. He is quiet so he doesn't wake her but she can always sense his presence. She never questions how he got in or why he is there, she just lets him into her bed. He sleeps fully clothed and doesn't touch her. He is gone when she wakes up, knowing the reaction he would receive from her mother. It has been like this for weeks now.
When she sees him, she doesn't mention his visits. He wants to keep them secret. He wants to keep them unspoken. Most of all, he doesn't want her to know or question why he comes to her. Why he can't sleep alone anymore. Why he needs the steady feel of her heartbeat at night. This is one of the many things he keeps to himself.
She wants him to take his jacket off. The zipper is cold when it sometimes hits her bare arms. She tells him he must be hot with it on anyway. He is so he agrees to take it off. This is on the fifteenth night that he comes to her. She wants him to be comfortable, she says. He assures her that he is as comfortable as he's ever been.
On the eighteenth night, he takes off his shirt and his belt. She gives him a questioning look as she watches him drowsily from her bed. He thought she wanted him to be comfortable. She did. He crawls into bed and lets his skin make contact with hers.
She brings it up for the first time after twenty-three nights. She asks him why he does it. Why he comes in the middle of the night to sleep next to her. He tells her it's nothing, it's not a big deal. But, she won't allow him to brush it off so easily. He looks at her and with shaking hands he tells her that she is real, for the first time he has something real to hold onto. He tells her about the phone calls from his father asking him to come to California. He won't go, he says. He doesn't want to go. He tells her that sleeping next to her is the one constant in his life. It makes him feel safe for a while.
She is terrified that she won't be enough for him. She won't be enough to keep him here. She knows that eventually sleeping next to her won't do a thing for him. She could never keep him safe. Most of all, she is scared he will realize all of this and leave. He will go to California. Somewhere in the back of her mind she has always known he would leave.
One night, and by now she has lost count, he whispers to her as she is falling back to sleep. He tells her that it's hard sleeping next to her and not touching her. He tells her that he fights the urge every night. He is dangerously close to giving in. He sleeps with his lips against her neck.
By now, she knows that he is not as strong as he wants her to believe. Despite the way he stands or the way he walks or the way his hands hold her up, he is weak. She decides to be strong. Stronger than she has been. Stronger than she was when she was falling for him. Stronger than she was when he left for the first time. Sturdy, stable, solid, she thinks.
He comes to her on a rainy night, water dripping from his hair into his eyes. Take everything off, she says. She doesn't want to get her bed or herself wet, naturally. She turns away and listens as he gets undressed. His belt makes contact with the floor and it is louder than either of them had anticipated. His skin is moist against hers and she turns to face him. Her lips find his shoulder and she lets him give in this time.
His hands are warm as they slip under her waistband. She is moaning against his mouth, though she is unsure if this is really what she wants. But, she thinks it will make him stay. Anyway, it feels good and she's willing to do it for him.
It is over in a matter of minutes. It didn't hurt like she had expected. And he had whispered to her, his breath warm, "You're so beautiful." And then when it is done and they are lying next to each other, waiting for their breathing to return to normal, "I don't deserve you, not at all." And when he is falling asleep but she is still wide awake, "I think I might love you."
His visits become less frequent. And when he does come, they make love. She doesn't feel used because he loves her and he tells her this. It has gone from a possibility to a fact, he tells her. Anyway, it was more of a probability to begin with.