On The Tracks ✔

Chapter 16: 'Three Years At The Motel'

Gabriella

I walked into my room, and heard a plop. Searching for the source, I discovered a puddle to the side of my bed.

I looked up to see drops leaping from my room, aw shit. I jumped over a few puddles to get my pyjamas, I'll change into.

Yes, on an average I wear my PJs twice, I sleep for a mere 8 hours so that would be just wasting effort to put it in the laundry and run through more clothes. Or maybe I'm just really lazy.

I tip–toed into the hallway, and down it was Raffaele's room. I have to suck up my pride and ask him if he has a spare bed.

Here goes nothing.

~~~

I knocked on Raffaele's door, I hate that I have to beg him, but pneumonia is not my lover. I placed my ear on the door to check if he's awake.

"Come in," a groggy, deep voice spoke. There laid a Raffaele– a shirtless Raffaele.

The thunderstorm clapped outside, "Uhm, hi," I said bashfully, he looked at me with a 'Get On With It' look. "There's a leak in the roof," I spoke quietly.

Shockingly he heard me, and shifted in response, patting the spot next to him, before he dove back into his bed, pulling the covers over him, "In the bed?" I asked.

He stuck an arm up from the covers, and made a thumbs up and loosely dropped it after a few seconds, "With you?" I verified.

"Do you want to sleep here or on the floor?" he asked frankly. In his bed then. I mean a grown woman and man can sleep in the same bed without any contact right?

On the bed; I could hear his gently snoring. Surprisingly, I found it soothing, as it lulls me to slumber.

I was still in a douse of lethargy, when I felt an arm over my waist, pulling me close to him– spooning me– I was too tired to even bother. And as my head was off my pillow, I tipped it back using his neck as my cushion, as I fell back into the depths of Neverland.

~~~

I woke up to heat radiating on my back. My legs were intertwined Raffaele's, a warm feeling settled in the pit of my stomach– 'Shake it off, Briella.' I turned to find the cause of my distraction.

His darkened hair, that made mine look pale, tousled on his forehead. I fought the urge to push them back.

As I trailed down his face, I note his soft pink pursed as if in deep concentration. My eyes floated back to his head and notice the stress lines that formed there– why is he so tense even in his sleep?

I straightened them with my hand, and he nuzzled into my neck, his arms still clasped around my waist.

"Just a few more minutes," I heard him grumble, pulling me tighter to his chest, I ignored how the butterflies in my stuck grow tenfold.

"I have to go make breakfast," I tried to excuse myself. He didn't budge.

As if that added more fuel to the fire, he nuzzled his head more into my neck, "Just stay Ella," I froze, I don't know what compelled me to stay– whether it was his gravelly, baritone voice, or how my body responded to the use of that nickname; and endearment from Raffi that I longed to hear.

'Don't use Raffaele as a substitute for Raffi' my conscious warned, but I paid no heed, "Ok, Raffi," I replied unconsciously– I knew I would regret it, on the contrary that earned me a kiss to my neck.

I checked the clock opposite me, it's 4:30 am. I'm so used to waking up early for practice, my mind used that as a vindication to stay, 'Think of this as a kind of well–deserved relapse', and I fell back into my nap.