I woke up with Jason Foster in my arms.
Not literally—we were in separate beds, the suite's morning light painting stripes across the hardwood floor between us. But I'd woken thinking about him, which was essentially the same thing. Thinking about the way he'd kissed me last night like he'd been waiting his whole life to do it. The way he'd smiled against my mouth, breathless and beautiful and undone.
The way I'd felt more real in his arms than I had in months.
I rolled over and looked at his bed. Empty, but recently vacated—the covers were thrown back, his glasses sitting on the nightstand. The bathroom door was closed, water running softly behind it.
Day five at Elk Haven Lodge. Three days left of this retreat, this suspended reality where I got to be someone other than B.L. Cross. Three days left with him.
I should get up, but instead I lay there watching the bathroom door.
The door opened, and Jason emerged in a cloud of steam, wearing jeans and a soft blue sweater that brought out his eyes behind those glasses. His hair was damp and slightly messy, curling at the ends where he'd missed with the towel.
He looked unfairly good for six-something in the morning. Our eyes met, and a smile spread across his face—shy but pleased, like he couldn't help it.
"Morning," he said softly.
"Morning." I sat up, running a hand through my hair. "You're up early."
"Old habits." He moved to the kitchenette. "Coffee?"
"God, yes."
I watched him make coffee, and when he brought me a mug, our fingers brushed. Heat sparked between us at the simple contact.
"Thanks," I managed.
"Welcome." He retreated to his bed with his own mug, maintaining careful distance. But he was smiling, this private smile that made me want to cross the room and mess up his hair again.
"So," he said after a moment. "This is going to be interesting."
"Interesting how?"
"Continuing to try to act normal during workshops when all I'm going to be thinking about is kissing you again and again."
"I have the same problem." I grinned. "Except I'm supposed to be the professional instructor, so it's even worse for me."
"True. Though you did manage to teach for four days while wanting to kiss me, so you've got practice. And you made it through yesterday."
"Fair point." I took a sip of coffee. "Though now that I know what kissing you is really like, it's going to be much harder."
His smile turned wicked. "Good."
I laughed and stood, stretching. "Good. Okay. Shower. Character motivation workshop. Pretending to be B.L. Cross instead of a guy who spent half the night making out with his roommate."
"You say that like those are mutually exclusive."
"Jason."
"What? I'm saying, maybe B.L. Cross is more fun than you give him credit for."
I threw a pillow at him. He caught it, laughing, and the sound made my chest ache in the best way.
***
By the time we made our way down to breakfast, we'd fallen into an easy rhythm of careful distance. We walked together but not too close. Talked but kept our conversation appropriately casual.
The dining room was transformed this morning—someone had hung garland wrapped in white lights along the windows and the scent of gingerbread and coffee filled the air. Christmas music played softly in the background. It should have felt festive, but all I could focus on was maintaining the right amount of distance from Jason.
