And I think he’s going to tease me, but instead he says, “Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Jasper.”
He grabs a pillow from the bed. “Fine. You’re right. We’ll both sleep on the floor.”
“Wait.” I laugh as I grab for his wrist, but the pillow goes flying to the floor with a muffled thump.
“No, you’re right. For the sake of your dignity and my virtue—” A second pillow arcs through the air.
“Yourvirtue?” My laughter gets louder. He’s being funny, but there’s no denying part of my giggling is from fatigue and stress. I’m so tired I’m getting punchy.
He’s laughing too, and puts on a fake expression of thoughtfulness. “I’ve never brought a guy home before. Mom will expect us to get married in the morning, though, since you’ve ruined me so completely.”
I leap up in front of him as he tugs on the cover, trying to pull it from the bed too. It’s been a long time since I laughed like this. Played with someone. The feeling is heady. Safe.
“But she’s the one who sent us up here. She’s been planning for this all along.” I gasp in exaggerated shock.
“She always wanted me to be a doctor, and since that’s not happening, I can marry one instead.” He reaches for me, and I get twisted in the comforter. I stumble forward, colliding with his chest. The cotton T-shirt is amazingly soft, but the man underneath it is not. His arms wrap around me and I tell myself he’s only being polite, keeping me upright, but when I glance upward, his face has gone still.
“Morgan.” His lips stay parted on the last syllable.
I want him. A lot, in fact. But we have to stay on task, so as he dips his head down, I slide away. He doesn’t resist. In fact, he steps a few paces back so he can lean against the kitchenette counter. He’s got his back to me, and I think we both appreciate the space, taking simultaneous deep breaths. I holdmine, watching his shoulders until he lets his out, then I exhale slowly too.
Time to be an adult.
“Look.” I bend to collect the pillows from the floor and return them to the bed. “We’re both exhausted. I’ll be asleep in two seconds. You can sleep on the bed too. I won’t even notice you’re there.”
He mutters something that might be “ouch,” but facing away like he is, I can’t say for sure. That’s fine. I’m too tired to fight anymore.
I point toward the door in the back of the apartment. “Bathroom?”
“Yeah.” Jasper straightens. “I think there might even be an extra toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.” He rushes toward a chest of drawers. “I probably have a shirt or something in here that you could wear too if you?—”
“Oh, that’s—” I’m about to say I’ll sleep in my boxers, but Jasper pulls the T-shirt over his head, exposing a flat stomach and broad shoulders and yeah... I’m going to need backup, even if it’s in the form of a borrowed shirt. “Yeah, that would be great. Might take a shower too.” Even though technically I showered this morning—whenever the hell that was—I feel like I’ve been wearing these pants forever. And the longer I’m in the flannel, the more I worry I’ll smell like Jasper, and then I’ll never get away from him when this is over.
We don’t make eye contact as he hands me a clean towel, rumpled T-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants. I take them into the bathroom with me, and the toothbrush is exactly where Jasper said it would be, still in the packaging.
I feel strangely exposed coming out into the main apartment again. Jasper’s changed while I was washing up, and he’s in a different T-shirt and worn sweats with a hole above one knee. I don’t like that we match, but he won’t understand if I tell him.
The bed is smaller than it looked once we’re both in it. Jasper’s still trying to be a gentleman, so he’s lying on top of the covers while I’m underneath, and his weight on the blankets leaves me feeling trapped as I try to squeeze as close to the edge of the mattress as possible to give him some room.
“Goodnight,” he says, like it’s no big thing.
“Goodnight,” I say. “Set an alarm. We can’t sleep too long.”
Then I lie there as my brain goes back to spinning in dust devil circles. Because someone stole the plans for the Ziro Machine. Except that wasn’t our machine. They’d modified it. And would a few modifications be enough to take it from something that stores energy to something that moves energy and life through time?
Also, the mattress has a saggy spot in the middle, and even though I try to stay away, Jasper and I are slow drifting toward each other. The weight and the heat of him are like a magnet, and they pull me away from the questions about the machine and onto questions about him, because something doesn’t make sense.
“Jasper?” I say it so softly he won’t hear it if he’s asleep, but his “Yeah?” is nearly immediate, so he must have been awake too.
I go to roll over, but I’m trapped in the too-tight blankets, so I’m forced to stare at the wall as I say, “Who are you, really?”
CHAPTER 13
The second the question is out of my mouth, I know I shouldn’t have asked, but the problem with words is they move fast.
Jasper says, “What do you mean?”
