Chapter 33

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Jay's P.O.V.
It's early in the morning and I've been awake for who knows how long, unable to fall back asleep after I woke up randomly several hours ago with my head pounding.

And now, I can't get out of my mind an image from yesterday: Ben leaning over me, lips inches from mine, so close I could feel his breath. Bright green eyes flick down to my mouth, and then... he pulls away.

I'd really thought we were going to kiss and now I can't get the picture out of my mind, nonetheless how it made me feel. Talk about an adrenaline rush.

I glance over at his sleeping form next to me, sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds and over his body. His limbs are haphazardly strewn about like he fell onto the bed and immediately passed out, even though we climbed into bed at the same time last night and snuggled into the blankets in normal positions.

Maybe I'm crazy... but I want something more with him. Is our connection all in my head?

I stare at the ceiling for several more minutes, but thinking about it more is only driving me crazy. I roll out of bed and tiptoe across the floor to go through the box Alexa brought me a few days ago that's sitting near the closet.

I glance back over at him but he's still dead asleep, something I definitely don't want to interrupt with his insomnia.

I carefully open the box, only to find that it's full of painting supplies. Okay, clearly this box isn't the one she brought me, but where did this come from? I've never seen anything related to painting in Ben's apartment, and he's never mentioned it either.

I pull out a canvas and suck in a breath.

I suppose expectations are made to be broken because the dark colors in this are strongly present. I pull out painting after painting of most of the same, which makes me realize, that maybe he's not doing as well as he's letting on.

"Ben..." I say softly, looking down at the art worriedly, then glancing toward his sleeping form.

There's got to be something I can do. If I could at least get him to talk about it...

I slide the canvases back into the box, debating how to bring it up when he suddenly stirs from the other side of the room.

I hurriedly shove the last things in the box, but clearly, it's a bit too late as a sleepy voice goes, "Jay? What are you doing?"

There's a moment of hesitation on my part, where I consider lying. I could say I was looking through my box and unpacking.

But I care about him more than that. I need to know him better than that.

"Well, I was going to unpack my box, but this isn't mine."

I hear a yawn and his feet pad across the floor until he sits on the floor next to me.

Only the ceiling fan can be heard for a moment, as he just stares at the box, then slowly runs a hand down its side before pulling it in front of him.

I watch as he opens it, eyes seemingly zoned out. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Ben?"

He pulls a canvas out and stares at it, still not saying a word. Canvas after canvas, and more of the same. He's starting to scare me.

He lands on the final painting and places it carefully on top of the pile he's created. I watch as he puts a hand on top of it, still not saying anything.

When he finally speaks, his voice comes out hushed and rough with emotion. "Yeah... they're mine."

I put a hand gently on his leg and we just sit there together for a moment, basking in the silence. He clears his throat suddenly, abruptly standing up and avoiding eye contact with me. "You're... you're probably hungry. I'll go make breakfast." I can tell he's trying to hold back the emotion in his voice, and it breaks my heart.

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