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"How am I supposed to breathe?"

"Like a normal person who's trying to sleep, not someone who's—" She stops herself, and I watch her bite her lip.

The corner of my mouth twitches despite myself. She's flustered. Good. At least I'm not the only one.

"What?"

"Nothing."

But there is something in the way she's looking at me, the way the air has changed. It's the same charge I felt in the kitchen when I licked buttercream from her thumb. The same pull I've been fighting since she showed up on my porch in that ridiculous costume.

She flops back down, and our arms brush.

My pulse kicks up like I’m on fire.

"This is ridiculous," she says, and I hear the frustration in her voice.

"What is?"

"This. Us lying here like there's an electric fence between us."

"There's plenty of room." I gesture at the space between us, even though we both know that's not what she's talking about.

"That's not what I—" She stops and bites her lip again. "Never mind."

We’re both wide awake, hyperaware of every inch between us.

She shifts again, clearly restless. The quilt rustles. Her leg moves, and suddenly her knee brushes against my thigh.

She freezes.

I don't move.

"Red?" Her voice is soft, uncertain.

"Yeah."

"Why did you really let me stay?"

The question catches me off guard. I could give her the easy answer—the storm, the car, basic human decency. But something about the darkness, the intimacy of this moment, pulls honesty out of me.

"I already told you; I didn't have a choice."

"I told you too; you always have a choice."

I turn my head on the pillow to look at her. She's already watching me, and in the faint firelight, her eyes are liquid gold.

"Not with you freezing on my porch, I didn't."

"You could've let me sit in the car. Brought me a blanket and told me to wait it out."

"No, I couldn't."

"Why not?"

Because the thought of her cold and scared made something twist in my chest. Because Bear liked her immediately, and that dog's a better judge of character than I'll ever be. Because when she smiled at me through chattering teeth, something I thought was dead woke up.

"Because," I say instead.