My brain short-circuited.
“I—what?”
“The bedroom has a space heater. Battery-powered. It’s warm in there.” He rubbed his face, clearly still half-asleep. “I’m not proposing anything scandalous. I’m proposing you not die of hypothermia on my couch.”
“I can just... add more blankets.”
“You’re already under every blanket I own.”
“I could wear more clothes.”
“You’re already wearing my clothes. Which, by the way, you look ridiculous in.”
“Farley—”
“It’s not getting in my bed.” He held up his hands. “It’s survival. Basic, practical, body-heat-sharing survival. I promise to stay on my side. There will be a pillow barrier if you want.”
A pillow barrier. Farley Davenport was offering to build a pillow barrier so I could share his bed platonically. This was either the most considerate thing anyone had ever done for me or the most frustrating. Possibly both.
“I don’t need a pillow barrier,” I said.
“Then come to bed.” He turned and walked back toward the hallway. “Before you actually freeze to death and I have to explain to Gladys why there’s a frozen soap opera star on my couch.”
I followed him.
What else was I supposed to do?
Farley’s bedroom was, predictably, warm.
A small space heater hummed quietly in the corner, putting out enough heat to make the room feel almost cozy. The bed was a queen—not huge, but not small—and the covers were already pulled back on one side.
I stood in the doorway, suddenly feeling very aware of what I was about to do.
“It’s just a bed,” Farley said, climbing back under the covers. “It’s not going to bite.”
“I know it’s not going to bite.”
“Then why are you hovering like a vampire waiting for an invitation?”
“I don’t hover.”
“You’re absolutely hovering. Get in bed, Samuel.”
I got in.
The sheets were soft—higher thread count than I’d expected from a rental cabin—and still warm from where Farley had been sleeping. I slid under the covers, staying carefully on my designated side, and stared up at the ceiling.
“This is weird,” I said.
“It’s only weird if you make it weird.”
“You kissed me earlier today. Well, yesterday, technically. I kissed you. There was mutual kissing. And now we’re lying next to each other in the dark.”
“Factually accurate.”
“And you don’t find that weird?”
Farley was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer. “I find it... a lot of things. Weird isn’t at the top of the list.”
