I woke up standing. Cam was near me, rubbing his temple.

"Well, now I know why they say not to wake up sleepwalkers," he said.

I'd been sleepwalking? It didn't feel like it.  It didn't feel like anything.  Just that one minute I was lying there staring into the dark, and the next minute I was wondering why Cam had brought me into the living room without even turning on any lights.

What time is it? I asked.

"Almost two," he said.  "Come on."

Where?

"My room. You're taking the bed.  No arguing."

I don't want to. You have to work tomorrow, and I'm not even tired.

"You're taking the bed and I'm staying with you.  The longer we argue about this, the less sleep I get, so let's just go, okay?"

He was edgier than I'd seen or heard him before.  I went with him.  It wasn't like I thought he'd try anything.  It was just different.  

I liked the idea of not being alone, though.

He sleeps in shorts usually.  Tonight he pulled on a shirt, like he was modest now.  I usually sleep in his biggest shirts, but he bought me some pajamas so I wear those when they're clean.  They're soft.

I sat down on his bed, feeling a little shy.  I felt like once when I slept over at a friend's house and we'd been playing and giggling until her mom came in and said it was TIME TO SLEEP.  All of a sudden we felt very formal and embarrassed.

He shut the door and did something to the knob I couldn't quite see.

What is it?

"I'm locking the door," he said.

The room had been big enough a minute ago, but now it was pressing in against me until I barely had room to move, let alone breathe.

Open it.

"I'm worried you might -- "

OPEN IT.

He looked at me a minute, then undid whatever he'd just done.  "It's unlocked," he said.  "But I want to leave it shut.  Okay?  That way if you do get up, you'll have to open it to go anywhere, and I'll hear you.  I hope."

I felt all right again.  I'm not going anywhere.

"I'm not sure you're the one making all your plans any more."

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that.

He sat down on the other side of the bed but didn't quite lie down.  He's always kind of serious, kind of quiet, but now he seemed especially so.  I looked a little closer and realized that he wasn't just worried; he felt guilty.

Don't be mad.

"I'm not."

I mean at you.

He smiled a little. "I'm doing a bang-up job of taking care of you, aren't I?"

You're the best.

He just shook his head.