Tulips

Lucy nibbled on one muffin after another, the silence heavy, yet strangely warm. Barry didn’t say much. He only watched, his dark eyes glinting in the dim light of the lamp by the bedside. She tried not to meet his stare too often, afraid he might see how fast her heart was beating.

At some point, without knowing when, her eyelids had grown heavy. The softness of the bed behind her had pulled her in like a secret promise, and before she realized it, she was fast asleep.

When Lucy opened her eyes, the room was still faintly dark. Dawn was just touching the curtains with a pale light. She blinked, realizing with a jolt that she was not in her own room but in Barry’s. The blanket draped over her shoulders slid a little, and she quickly pulled it off. She froze.

Barry was lying on the other side of the bed, half-turned toward her. His breathing was steady, his lashes resting against his cheeks, and the usual coldness on his face was replaced by something softer. Peaceful. Almost boyish.

L