‘Um…’ I say, forcing myself to break the silence, but the words stick in my throat and it comes out sounding like a gargled cough. ‘So… the bed?’
Hoxton is standing at the foot of the bed, looking at meexpectantly as if this whole exchange is entirely normal. He runs a hand through his messy hair again, clearly still in that sleep-drunk haze. ‘Yeah, you can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the sofa.’
There’s a beat of silence.
I blink. ‘Wait, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I just… uh… wasn’t expecting… well…’
My gaze flicks towards the bed, then back to Hoxton, who’s looking at me as if he’s already made some kind of logical decision.
He shrugs, completely unfazed by my hesitation. ‘It’s fine. I’m sure the sofa’s comfortable enough for one night.’
‘It’s not fine,’ I say, stubbornly. ‘If it’s too cold and uncomfortable for me, it’s going to be too cold and uncomfortable for you.’
Hoxton takes in a deep, long-suffering breath. ‘There’s no other alternative, Noelle.’
‘There is.’
‘Then enlighten me.’
I look pointedly between him, the bed, and back to him again. It takes a second or two, but then I see realisation dawning behind his eyes.
‘Oh. You want…’ We stare at each other in silence for a few long seconds before he lets out a heavy sigh that seems to carry the weight of the world. His jaw clenches once, twice, a third time. ‘Look,’ he says with another long-sufferingsigh, like I’m the absolute bane of his existence. To be fair, at this point, I probably am. ‘I suppose… I mean… We’re both adults, right?’
‘Right.’
‘So, we can share the bed without any—’
‘Without it being weird,’ I finish for him. ‘Exactly.’
Hoxton nods hesitantly. ‘Just… You just stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.’
I swallow down a snort. That’s exactly what Eve and I would say to each other when we went on holiday and had to share a hotel bed as children. ‘Nothing to worry about there, trust me.’
I think I hear Hoxton chuckle, but I’m too busy striding across the room and making my way towards his bed to care. I don’t think I’ve ever been more thankful for a bed in my life. The promise of warmth is too much and I practically dive onto Hoxton’s giant, cloud-like bed without a second thought.
Hoxton’s duvet is heavy and luxurious, trapping the heat underneath like a personal cocoon designed to combat the North Pole itself. As soon as my head hits the equally soft and warm pillow, a long, involuntary groan escapes me. The sound is horrendously inappropriate, but I can’t quite bring myself to care.
‘This,’ I mutter, wiggling around under the blankets. ‘This isheaven.’
‘Mm.’
I peek out from beneath the duvet. Hoxton is lingering by the foot of the bed, a look I can’t quite place sparkling in his eyes. For the first time since invading Hoxton’s personal space, I let myself take a good look at him.
Sorry, Eve, I think, taking in the plain white T-shirt and baggy grey pyjama bottoms he’s wearing.Not a suit. I try not to focus on the fact that his trousers hang low on his hips and how the shirt clings to his chest like a delightful second skin, showing off every crest and peak of his muscles.
Deliciousis the first word that jumps into my mind and I immediately turn over.
‘Better?’ Hoxton asks eventually.
‘Like you wouldn’t believe,’ I mumble into the pillow, my words muffled.
Hoxton chuckles softly, and I feel the bed dip slightly as he crawls in beside me. For a fleeting moment, I freeze, the absurdity of the situation settling in all at once.
Me and Hoxton.
Sharing a bed.
Hisbed.
