I smile. "I like looking down at you."
He huffs before brushing past me. Perhaps he doesn't care about keeping his distance after all. He pushes the door open and I trail in behind him. The room has a tall triangular ceiling and the circular window faces the ocean. It's too dark to see anything now, but I know in the morning, the view will be gorgeous.
I set my trunk on the ground and check out the ensuite, whistling appreciatively at the modern bathroom with a large shower. Damn, I remember this house was nice, but this place must cost a fortune.
When I return to the bedroom, I look at the beds.
Correction: bed.
"Oh god," I say. "Is there only one bed?"
Curtis inspects them.
"Didn't Erin say there were two beds?" I think I'm going to be sick.
"Calm down, drama queen," Curtis says. He's pulled the blankets back to reveal the crack between two single beds with identical headboards.
"Oh. Thank god."
"Do you always try to be as insulting as possible?" Curtis moves the bedside table out of the way, then starts separating one bed.
I do the same with the other bed. "How's that insulting?" I ask.
Curtis gives me a look.
"Never mind," I mutter. I push my bed in the opposite direction of Curtis, to a corner nearby the door. I'm breathing heavily, while Curtis moves the bed with ease. Dickhead. He's always rubbing his muscles in people's faces.
It'd be easier for me to take the mattress off first, move the bed, and then move the mattress. But my pride doesn't let me do that.
"You know," Curtis says, "isn't sharing a bed a fanfiction trope?"
"Ha ha," I say through my teeth.
"I'm serious. Isn't it?"
I ignore him. We finish moving our beds and move the bedside tables, so we have one each. "We need to change the blanket for two separate ones," I say, gesturing to the queen-size doona covers piled on Curtis's bed.
"I'll do it," Curtis says, folding it into his arms and disappearing through the doors.
While he's gone, I change into my pyjamas — a pair of black sweatpants — and take my toothbrush and toothpaste into the ensuite bathroom.
My eyes droop down as I brush, but I force myself to stay awake. Not long now, and I'll be able to get into bed. Maybe sharing a bedroom with Curtis will be bearable if I fall asleep immediately every time we're both in the room.
Just as I finish brushing my teeth, I hear Curtis step into the bedroom. He's heavier than me, so his steps creak more than mine.
I rinse my mouth before stepping into the bedroom. His back is to me as he makes his bed. Predictably, he chucked my blanket on top of my bed in a crumpled mess.
"Thanks," I say, walking over to my bed.
He turns around, mouth open to retort then stops. His eyes are on my stomach. I look down, expecting to see something wrong, but it's just my skin. "What?" I snap, fighting the urge to cover myself with my hands, even though I know he's judging my body.
He clears his throat. "Of course you wear black to bed."
I turn away to make my bed and hope he doesn't see my pink cheeks. "I bet your pyjamas are pathetic," I mutter.
I'm right. Five minutes later, Curtis gets changed in the bathroom and returns in long-sleeve grey and white striped pyjamas. The shirt buttons up to his neck.
A laugh bubbles out of me, and I can't stop myself. I was lying on my bed, trying to get to sleep, but my body shakes with laughter.
