Barefoot and wearing Taylor's boxers and tee shirt, I padded down the stairs and out to the deck, making sure not to wake anyone. For the love of God, I couldn't figure out why I couldn't sleep. Certainly wasn't because it wasn't quiet enough. Maybe it was too quite. Nah... I was just restless.
I sat down in a lounge chair and brought my knees to my chest. It was chilly out, and my arms and legs were covered with goosebumps. Under normal circumstances I would've pulled my shirt over my legs, but I didn't want to stretch out Tay's tee so I settled for kicking myself for not putting on my jeans instead.
Just then the sliding glass door opened, causing me to jump with a start. "Who's out there?" someone asked.
"Ike, it's me."
"Becca?"
"Yeah."
"What are you doing up?" he asked me, straddling the lounge chair so he could face me.
I shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."
"Me neither."
"Is it too much knowing your girlfriend is in the next room?" I teased.
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, please... Not you, too. Did Zac and Tay put you up to that?"
"No. They've been giving you a hard time?"
"Every chance they get. Oh my God! Why didn't you put on pants before you came out here? Look at you! You're shivering! Here, take my sweatshirt."
"But then you'll be cold."
"I got a tee shirt on, and at least I'm wearing sweatpants. Now stop arguing and put on the damn shirt," Ike instructed, handing me his gray ORU sweatshirt. There was a slight pause. "So, are you ready to tell me what's really bothering you and how you're really feeling?"
"There's just no fooling you, is there?"
"Nope."
"Well, let's see. Where do I begin? I hate my major. In fact, I despise it. I wanna change it, but I STILL don't have a clue as to what the hell I wanna do with my life. Then there's Lisa. We went from being best friends to just plain ol' acquaintances. We hardly see each other anymore. She's always off doing sorority stuff. And I'm feeling guilty 'cause I'm closer to people I just met at school than I am to her right now. At this point, I don't know if we're even gonna room together next year." I closed my eyes and began to massage my temples in an attempt to alleviate some of the stress.
"Becca, I had no idea... Why didn't you say something earlier?" Ike wrapped me in a hug.
"You already had a full plate. I didn't want to burden you."
"Don't be ridiculous, Rebecca. You could NEVER burden me. Now you kept all this to yourself and where did it get you? So stressed out you can't even sleep. Turn around."
"Huh?"
"Turn around," Ike repeated the instructions.
I shifted in the lounge chair so my back was facing him.
"Slide back towards me a little bit."
I did, and Ike began to give me a massage. As soon as his fingers began to kneed my tense shoulders, I relaxed. I haven't had a good massage in quite some time, and this felt INCREDIBLE. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and I let out a small moan.
"What?" asked Ike, his fingers no longer kneading but still resting on my shoulders. "Am I hurting you?"
I shook my head. "No. Just the opposite. It feels great. Keep going."
"Okay." Ike's fingers continued to work their magic. They made their way to the base of my neck and began to work out a knot. I closed my eyes and let myself go. I was feeling like I had died and gone to heaven, or something. Ike stopped massaging and stood up. "Lie on your stomach," he said.
He got no arguments from me. I sat on my knees and pulled Ike's sweatshirt over my head, leaving my arms in the sleeves. I figured giving a full back massage would be a little difficult through the bulky article of clothing.
I could feel Ike's sweatpants through Taylor's thin boxers, a leg next to each of my hips. He must've been facing my feet though, for he began to kneed into my calves. I was surprised. I wasn't expecting a full body massage, but I most certainly wasn't objecting to one, either.
Slowly, his hands made their way up my calves, towards my thighs. Fingers attacked the knots, but were gentle at the same time. He massaged along the hem of the boxers. Then he stopped. He must've changed the direction he was facing because he began to work on my back, the baggy tee sliding and bunching up underneath his hands.
"Becca?" he asked softly.
"Go ahead."
His warm hands slipped under the tee shirt. The heel of his hands ran up and down my back. I felt so relaxed. Not just because of the massage, but because of the sense of safety and security Ike provided for me. I trust him with everything I have, and it was with this realization that the silent tears began to fall.
"Becca, you're shaking. Are you cold? Put the sweatshirt on then," Ike said.
"Not cold," I mumbled into the lounge chair.
"What's wrong then?"
I shook my head.
Ike sighed. "Becca, look at me."
I rolled over, showing Ike my tear-stained face.