I'd thought about it when I'd texted her late at night and early in the morning, and every time we'd hung out together this month. I'd thought about it in detail while she kicked my ass at ping-pong last weekend, and I'd debated whether the table wouldholdus.
But that wasn't part of this arrangement. I wasn't going to fuck it all up byfuckingAlex.
"Unless you'd rather get food first," I said, skirting the bed topic entirely. "Nevermind. You probably need food before and after theevent."
"I'm not that hungry," she said, stifling another yawn. "I got a smoothie with Hartshorn before rounds this morning. He said there was extra protein powder in there. He's all about the protein. Macros or something. I don't know. I don't pay attention tothatshit."
"We'll do whatever you want," I said, my words tight and clipped. "Or nothingatall."
"No, no, no," Alex said, blinking. The city was giving way to long stretches of green. "I know you've had a difficult day and you're rocking one hell of a salty mood, but we're going all the way to RhodeIsland—"
"It's not that far," I said under mybreath.
"—and you've promised me the full Rhode Island experience. I'm not going allthisway—"
"It really isn't that far. The states are smaller in New England thanoutwest."
"—to take a nap," she said. "We're doing this, and we're doing the fullRhody."
I resumed tapping my fist against the gear shift, and jerked a shoulder in acknowledgement. After this hot mess of a week, I would've preferred to stay at home with a big bowl of cereal, pajamas, and a Marvel movie marathon. I didn't want to deal with people—or pants—thisweekend.
But Alex was right. I'd talked up the wonders of the Ocean State, and I couldn't abandon it because I'd been reminded that Lauren was having frequent, purposeful sex with my brother. And this was where I went to get away from it all. For years, I'd been able to find a new home for myself on College Hill or lose myself to good times in Newport. This was where I went to shakeitoff.
"We have another half hour to go," I said, gesturing to the navigation system. Then I dropped my hand to her thigh and squeezed. I needed an anchor, something that would prevent me from floating back into the rapids. "Take that nap now. I need some more time with thissaltymood."
* * *
Accordingto the email I'd dug up from Shannon, we were staying at an 1800s courthouse-turned-inn on Benefit Street, just three minutes from College Hill and RISD. It was a lovely, wonky place that hadn't decided which time period to embrace. There was old-fashioned wallpaper and wide plank pine floors, and art and furniture that drew from every major style in the past two hundredyears.
It would've given Patrick hives. I was halfway to hives myself, but for entirely differentreasons.
The handful of rooms were named in accordance with their themes, and the husband-and-wife proprietors had charming stories about each. What they did not have was our reservation. Or, more precisely, both of ourreservations.
"I think I know what happened," the owner said as she tapped at her keyboard. "It looks like we set aside the Roger Williams room, which has two beds, instead of twoseparaterooms." She glanced up at me. "I wish I could fix this for you, but we're booked up. It's RISD Weekend,youknow."
"Idoknow," I said, fighting to keep the edge out of my voice. Knocking my knuckles against the front desk, I pivoted to face Alex. She'd taken a call from the hospital when we'd first arrived, and I wasn't sure whether she'd heard the continuing saga of my shit-ass week. "We have a smallissuehere."
She was busy typing out a message on her phone and only spared me a quick glance. "Yeah? What'swrong?"
"There was a misunderstanding," I started, offering the owner a tight smile, "with the reservations. Instead of two separaterooms, we have two separatebedsinoneroom."
Her fingers froze and she slowly lifted her head to meet my gaze. "Oh," shereplied. "Okay."
"Since everyone's in town for RISD Weekend," I continued, "there are no other rooms here. I'm sure we can book something else. There are plenty of big hotels in Providence. Either you can take the room here and I'll godowntown,or—"
"No," she interrupted, slashing a hand through the air as she spoke. "No, that's crazy. We're already here, and you gave me a lecture about how great it was to stay inthis neighborhood tenminutesago."
I stared at her, waiting for the realization to hit that we'd besharing a bedroom. A bedroom. The type withbeds. Which, when mixed with consenting adults, were intended forsex. Andwewere thoseadults.
When a minute had passed without a single flicker of wariness or alarm in her eyes, I asked, "Are you sureaboutthis?"
She bobbed her head and held out her hands as if to sayWhat's the bigdeal,dude?
The big deal,I wanted to shout,is that you had your tits in my face a week ago and I only walked away because I didn't trust the ping-pong table to stay standing while I fucked you. How do you expect me to walk away when there arebedsinvolved?
Or,I've never perfected the art of jerking off in silence, and that's what I'm going to need to do with you asleep four feet awayfromme.
Or,What happens when I start talking in my sleep about wanting your mouth onmycock?
