Sleepy Reads Novels & Stories

Chapter Six Wakie wakie! I heard Rey's voice "Sleepy head,wake up" I felt his hand on my forehead, I slowly blink my eyes open to meet the reflection of the sun dimming in my eyes. The rays made my vision blur for a while. I sprung my head up to meet Rey pair of eyes lurking into mine and his long lashes blinking like that of a puppy "Good morning" Good morning "I answered

Because the more she’s here… The harder it is to remember she’s the one woman I can’t have. And the only one I want. Sighing as I snap myself out of my daydream I Step into her room to look for her, a book catches my eye. Taking a seat on the chair-sofa, curiosity spikes my brain to what types of books she likes to read. I swear most times she lives in these pages more than reality. Siena has always been an avid book reader and I find it cute, I open to a tabbed page as my eyes skim over the lines. Pausing, I double skim the page before bringing my finger to point to each word like a damn child. My heart thumps when I know the words I saw were indeed not just my perverted male brain making t

'' Sophia leaned back on the seat, getting comfortable. ''We're great here,'' ''Okay, I miss you,'' Sophia said softly. ‘‘Miss you too, baby. Can you give the phone to Miles?'' ‘‘Sure,'' Sophia muttered and looked over to Miles whose eyes were closed and head was rested back on his seat. Was he taking a power nap? Sophia had once read that busy-rich people take power naps whenever they get time to restore their energy because they've to work all day. ''Miles,'' she called out softly. Mindful not to startle him.

Only a small reading light, that illuminated the spot above Nadia’s book as she sat in bed reading, broke the darkness of the bedroom. Nadia was focused on the novel in her left hand and the warm tea in the other. She’d been unable to sleep even after several drinks at the bar. Jake had been holed up in his own penthouse all day reading about demons and how to avoid them and the infamous story of the devil at the crossroad. Nadia wasn’t offended by his absence but the distraction would be nice, she thought.

I tell him about my dream and how I wake up to find her in the same clothes I dreamt of with a knife in our nightstand drawer. Doctor Lee listens intently, his gaze never leaving Sandy. “She’s developed a case of sleep walking”

Alex~ I eventually do sleep wake up to the sound of keys clinking against each other, muted by the soft hum of Seth’s laptop fan. For a moment, I don’t move. The light slipping through the blinds is pale, washed‑out, and Seth is still asleep on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes like he’s trying to block the day out. His chest rises and falls steadily, mouth slightly open. My body feels heavy, but not the kind of heavy that drags you under more like a strange, empty calm after a storm. I sit up slowly, rubbing my face, and the memories come back in quiet flashes.

Only the low hum of the present. Sophia was curled on the couch across from me, legs tucked beneath her, reading the novel Izzy had given her. She'd been reading it in fragments for two weeks in planes, quiet evenings and the occasional hour between obligations. The silk slip she wore caught the lamplight with every small shift, sliding over her skin like a secret I wasn’t supposed to notice. Her hair fell loose across one shoulder. She looked soft in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. I watched her turn a page, the quiet rhythm of her breathing, the faint furrow between her brows as she read. The moment was entirely ordinary. And that was what made it significant.

I stare at the text for a long time, watching the words blur and sharpen on the screen. Americus still sleeps, one arm thrown over her face, her sequined sleep mask catching the gray morning light filtering through the window. Riley left early for the library, her departure marked only by the ghost of her presence - a coffee mug in the sink, her bed hastily made. The room sits quiet around me. Waiting. I type back: *okay.* Then I place my phone face down and spend the next four hours attempting to read my American Literature notes, retaining approximately none of it. The words swim across the page like figures on ice - familiar shapes that refuse to coalesce into meaning.

she muttered, her voice groggy, and then she let out a heavy sigh before reaching out to turn the alarm off. Sitting up, Shirley's leg kicked off the duvet covering her body. Yawning, she turned her head to look beside her, on the bed, a soft sigh escaped her lips as she caught sight of the opened book lying on the bed. It was the journal Max had given to her. She had fallen asleep while reading it the previous night. Her hands reached out to pick it up, the edges of the opened pages were slightly rumpled, she must have rolled over it in her sleep, thought Shirley as she straightened the rumpled edges, and then closed the book. She started to get out of bed.

He’d been doing this every morning since the remission results. He’d wait until he thought I was asleep, then he’d rest his forehead against the small curve of my stomach and read whatever children’s book the nurses had smuggled in. Yesterday it was The Runaway Bunny. The day before, Guess How Much I Love You. He read them like scripture, voice rough with exhaustion and something so tender it hurt to hear. Today he finished the book, closed it gently, and pressed his lips to the spot just above my navel. “I know you’re awake,” he murmured against my skin.