ephemeral [ Conrad Fisher ]

21

THE soft light of morning filtered through my window, casting a warm glow across my room. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I stretched out under my cozy covers, savoring those few moments of peaceful wakefulness before reality came crashing back.

The room was eerily quiet, the stillness broken only by the distant sounds of birds and the waves. I reached out to the empty space beside me, my fingers grazing the cool sheets where Conrad had lain just hours ago. It felt like a cruel trick of the mind, as though he'd never been there at all.

I couldn't help but wonder if it had all been a dream. Perhaps my mind had conjured Conrad's presence in a desperate bid to make sense of my tangled feelings. Maybe I'd imagined his voice, his touch, and the way his lips had pressed against mine.

I had a throbbing headache, the kind that felt like a hammer pounding against the inside of my skull. It wasn't a hangover; I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol last night. No it was definitely the weight of emotions, the turmoil of the past few days, that had left me feeling utterly drained.

My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. It was a message from Shayla, asking how I was feeling after last night. I replied with a vague, "Not great. Let's talk later." I didn't want to get into the details just yet.

The persistent headache throbbing behind my eyes as I forced myself out of bed, determined to shake off the lingering unease that had settled in my chest. I tiptoed out of my room, careful not to make a sound that might alert anyone else in the house. The hallway was dimly lit, the early morning light seeping through the curtains. I made my way to the bathroom, my steps slow and deliberate.

Turning on the tap, I splashed my face with cold water, hoping it would help chase away the remnants of my headache. The sensation was jarring, but it did little to alleviate the dull ache that had settled in my head. I reached for the medicine cabinet, fingers fumbling until I found a bottle of pain relievers.

As I popped two pills into my mouth, I couldn't help but replay the events of the previous night in my mind. Conrad's confession, the kiss, the confusing mix of emotions—all of it left me feeling like I was standing on the edge of something I couldn't quite grasp.

With a sigh, I placed the bottle back in the cabinet and closed the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, a mess of tangled hair and tired eyes. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the day ahead.

I wandered back into the hallway, and for a moment I debated crawling back into bed and forcing myself to sleep the rest of the day away. But as I stood there, trying to convince myself that sleep would help me feel better, the quiet voice at the back of my mind whispered that maybe what I really needed was some clarity.

My heart leaped into my throat as Conrad stepped out of the stairway, a plate of breakfast in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His dark hair was disheveled, and his eyes held a hint of weariness, but there was something else there too—something that made my heart race.

"Morning, Nox," he said softly, his voice was warm and low, as if he was sharing a secret with me.

I blinked at him, feeling like I'd been caught in some kind of bizarre dream. "Conrad?"

He offered a small, rueful smile. "Yeah?"

"I thought... I thought you left," I finally managed to say.

Conrad shook his head. "I went downstairs to make breakfast. I wanted to bring you something to eat." His gaze softened as he looked at me, his eyes searching mine.

I couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions—confusion, curiosity, and a lingering sense of vulnerability. Part of me wanted to push him away, to protect myself from whatever this was. But another part—the part that had been drawn to him for so long—wanted to understand, to see where this could lead.