"No. This isn't negotiable. You're playing Portland tomorrow. You need your back properly supported, your legs elevated correctly, actual REM sleep—" She was in full journalist-analyzing-athlete-performance mode now. "Do you have any idea what the headlines would be if you played badly because you slept on a couch? 'D'Arcy Tanks Game 4 After Girlfriend Steals Bed.' I'd be run out of Boston."
"That's ridiculous?—"
"I will sleep in the bathtub before I let you take that sofa," she declared. "I'll sleep in the hallway. I'll call Varlenko and sleep on his floor. But you are taking that bed, Liam D'Arcy, or so help me, I will tell Coach Taylor you're deliberately sabotaging your pre-game rest."
Liam stared at her, looking genuinely taken aback by her vehemence. "You'd rat me out to Coach?"
"In a heartbeat. For the good of the team." She crossed her arms. "This is bigger than us. This is about playoff hockey."
They stood facing each other, both trying not to smile, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting them.
"We're being ridiculous," Libby admitted.
"Completely ridiculous," Liam agreed.
"We could... share?" she suggested, then immediately backtracked. "I mean, it's huge. We could build a pillow wall. Like we're twelve."
"A pillow wall," Liam repeated slowly.
"A substantial pillow wall. A pillow fortress."
They looked at each other for a moment, then Liam's mouth twitched. Libby bit her lip. And then they were both laughing—real, genuine laughter that broke through all the day's accumulated tension.
"This is insane," Libby gasped between giggles.
"Completely insane," Liam agreed, actually grinning now.
"Or," Libby said, catching her breath, "I could just sneak out when everyone's asleep and bunk with Jane. We've been sharing beds since we were kids."
"You two seem close," Liam observed, his tone genuinely curious rather than politely interested.
"Five sisters, three bedrooms," Libby explained. "Jane and I are the oldest, so we shared the longest. Kitty and Lydia had their room—absolute chaos, clothes everywhere. Mary got her own because she threatened to run away to a convent if she didn't get 'space for contemplation.'" She smiled at the memory. "Though mostly she just used it to practice violin at ungodly hours."
"Five daughters," Liam said, looking slightly awed. "Your parents must be..."
"Exhausted? Insane? Permanently broke from prom dresses and dance tuition, and a shared bathroom that always looked like Sephora exploded?" Libby grinned. "All of the above. Dadused to hide in his study just to read the newspaper in peace. Mom thrived on the chaos though. Still does."
"And you all get along?"
"We get along like sisters," Libby said with a wry smile. "Which means the only urge stronger than the one to kill each other is the urge to kill anyone who hurts one of us. Jane's the peacemaker. Mary's the intellectual—she'd rather read philosophy than talk to people. Kitty gets swept up in whatever Lydia's doing—she's not wild herself, just easily influenced. And Lydia..." she paused, choosing her words carefully. "Lydia thinks consequences are something that happens to other people."
"Where do you fall in the lineup?"
"Second oldest, first to argue," Libby said with a self-deprecating smile. "Jane got all the grace and patience. I got the opinions and stubbornness."
"I've noticed," Liam said dryly, but his expression was warm. He checked his watch. "Speaking of your sisters—team curfew is at eleven. It's nine-thirty now."
"Wait, curfew applies to me too?"
"If you're sneaking through hotel hallways after eleven, you'll run into half the team doing their own sneaking," Liam said with a knowing look. "Road games are... active. Jensen's probably already got someone coming by. Varlenko claims he's 'getting ice' at midnight but everyone knows he's visiting that bartender from last year."
"Oh God," Libby groaned. "So I'd be doing the walk of shame past actual walks of shame?"
"More like the walk of 'I'm escaping to my sister's room' past the walks of 'I'm definitely not supposed to be on this floor,'" Liam said dryly. "Coach pretends not to know as long as everyone shows up to practice functional."
"Well, what are we supposed to do in the meantime?" Libby asked, glancing around the suite. "Just... sit here awkwardly until it's late enough for me to escape?"
"We could order room service," Liam said, already reaching for the menu. "And I have cards in my bag."
