I step back before she can see it in my face. “Right. Yeah. You should, uh… do that.”
Bella frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I force a smile. “Just remembered I’ve got somewhere to be.”
She tilts her head, skeptical. “You just got here.”
“Rain check?” I say, brushing her cheek.
She narrows her eyes, but then sighs. “Fine.”
She disappears into the bathroom.
I look at the sheet again. I should leave, walk out that door, get in the stolen car, and drive until this entire damn campus is behind me.
But I don’t.
Instead, I glance back at that list again. Room 203.
I don’t even remember walking upstairs. Just that the hallway is too bright, that my hand shakes when I twist the doorknob.
The room smells like strawberries and something faintly floral. There’s a drink on the desk. A journal open on the bed, a textbook next to it, and a laptop.
I glance around, telling myself I just want to see the space she lives in. The life she’s building. Maybe pocket something stupid. A shirt. A photo. Maybe another pair of her panties. I hate that my cock stirs at that. I just need a piece of proof that she’s still real.
But then I hear water shut off.
And Chloe walks out.
Steam follows her, curling around her bare legs. She’s got a towel wrapped low, another twisted in her hair. Her skin glows, damp and flushed.
When her eyes land on me, her whole body jerks. “What thefuck?”
I swear under my breath. “I—Jesus, I didn’t—”
“Miles?” she blurts. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”
“I didn’t know—” I start, but the lie is obvious.
“You didn’t knowwhat?” she snaps, clutching the towel tighter.
I raise both hands, palms out. “I swear, I thought this was—”
“Bella’s room?” she cuts in. “That’s your excuse? Or Leslie? I can barely keep track of who is warming your bed nowadays.”
Her voice shakes, but her eyes don’t.
“Warming my bed? What are we in? Medieval times? You can sayfuckingChloe, or is that word to crude for a princess like you?”
“Fuck you, Miles.”
I stare at the drops of water sliding down her shoulder, the fury painting her cheeks, the disbelief twisting her mouth, and it hits me, how royally I’ve screwed this up. Again. What did I think? She’d flirt with me?
“Chloe—”
“Don’t.” She takes a step back, then another. “Don’t you dare say my name like that.”
Neither of us moves. Just breathing. Just staring. The air feels electric like it’s too hot, too close, too full of all the things we never said.
