With a sigh, I cross the hallway and rap lightly on his door. Jordan doesn’t answer immediately, so I’m left standing alone in the hall, wondering if I should knock again. Just as I’m about to give up and surrender to a sleepless night on a squeaky old recliner, the door opens and an adorably confused Jordan is rubbing the sleep from his eyes. When he sees me, he smiles.
“Shelley? What’s up?”
My brain almost forgets how to form words as my gaze slides down his bare chest and continues further to the noticeable bulge in his gray joggers, but I keep it together enough to say, “I’m sorry about this, but I need to ask you a favor.”
Jordan tilts his head to one side, a soft sleepy smile still on his face, waiting to hear what I need.
“Can I sleep in here tonight? My sisters locked me out.”
“They locked you out of your own room?” He seems amused. I’m not.
“Yes.” I huff and cross my arms. “Sadly, it’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. They like to gang up on me. It’s a whole thing. They’ve always been like this. Can I sleep in here or…should I not?”
Jordan doesn’t say anything else, just steps aside and makes a sweeping hand gesture to invite me in.
My brother’s bedroom looks exactly like he left it. Dark wood bunk beds sit up against the far wall. A smattering of baseball trophies lines the top of the tall dresser, along with a bobble head of Cal Ripken. There’s a framed black and whiteprint of Mickey Mantle hitting a home run hanging on the opposite wall. Somehow this room always smells faintly of socks.
“Here, you can be on the bottom,” Jordan suggests. When I pump my eyebrows suggestively, he laughs and shakes his head, moving to adjust the blankets. “Let me make the bed back up for you, and you can sleep here. I’ll take the top.”
I know I should tell him not to bother. I shouldn’t inconvenience him more than I already am. I could climb the ladder just as well as he can. But I like the idea of snuggling into the warm spot he just vacated. And suddenly I have an aching need to breathe in the smell of that pillow.
“Thank you.” I stand awkwardly with my arms swinging at my sides as he tries to straighten the quilt. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“No worries,” he assures me. “I never sleep well in new places anyway. And I was sort of hoping you’d stop by.” He stops fooling with the linens long enough to exchange a heated glance with me, but he cuts it short and goes right back to his task. Interesting.
When he’s satisfied enough with my new blanket arrangement, I crawl into the warm sheets, which now smell like him.
“Goodnight.” He tucks the blankets around me and strokes my cheek lightly before hoisting himself onto the top bunk.
It can’t possibly be comfortable for him up there. My own feet are brushing against the footboard. I’m tall at five foot ten, but Jordan is still six inches taller. He must be twisting himself into a pretzel to fit on that bed.
I lie silently for what seems like forever, flat on my back and staring up at the slats. Eventually, I blow out a breath and shift to my side, the old wood moaning as I move.
“Can’t sleep?” His deep voice floats down to me and I can feel it resonate in my chest.
“Guess not.” I shift again and try to find a more comfortable position, to no avail.
“I’d offer to sing a lullaby, but trust me, neither one of us wants that to happen.”
“Oh, I know. I saw a video of a certain someone doing karaoke last Valentine’s Day,” I tease.
Jordan laughs.
“What do you do when you can’t drift off?” I ask.
He chuckles again, quietly. “Have you tried snuggling Mr. Fluffers? Is he here?”
“Unfortunately, my sisters are currently holding him hostage, along with everything else in my room.” I lift my leg and poke my toe into his mattress. “I’m being serious. Is there anything that helps you?”
There’s a long pause, but after the beat of silence, he says, “I don’t think I should answer that.”
My curiosity is piqued. “No? Why is that?”
“Your innocent ears might not be ready to hear the answer,” he quips.
I roll my eyes. “I know people jerk off, Jordan. You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I was just hoping for a more useful answer. You know, something that might actually work for me, too.”
I hear him shift above me and his tone sobers. “That still isn’t working for you? I thought you said the cream was helping.”
