It’s fucking awful.
As soon as I finish, I thank Alex’s mom and excuse myself. Then I retreat upstairs to shower and get ready for bed, even more exhausted now than I was earlier.
It’s nearly midnight by the time Alex comes upstairs and the house starts to quiet down. I’m lying on the bed, as I have been forthe last few hours, just scrolling on my phone.
He’s smiling, like he’d been enjoying all the laughter and everything, and there’s a moment when he stops and our eyes meet that I let his smile wash over me. It feels warm, and I try again. For him.
“Dude, look at this,” I say, and I turn my phone toward him as the video I was watching starts to replay. It’s nothing important. Just a short video of a little gray cat being silly and rolling slowly down a flight of stairs. But Alex steps closer as his eyes shift away from me, and his face lights up even more as the video plays.
“God, that’s just—”
“—fucking adorable, right?”
He grins again and nods, and I lower the phone and shut off the screen. Alex steps over to his dresser and pulls out some pajama pants and a T-shirt, and I slowly sit up, my arms complaining from the effort.
“I’ll be right back,” he starts, and then he glances toward the closet. “I think I still have the extra pillows and blankets and stuff, if my mom didn’t steal them for Jerry and Thelma. I’ll check in a sec.”
His eyes meet mine, and there’s a flicker of something in them, but it’s gone too quickly. Then he nods and disappears out the door and down the hallway to get changed and ready for bed, I guess.
I drop my phone on the bed and push myself to my feet, ignoring the exhaustion and brief dizziness that come with standing up. Then I head to the closet. I probably should have made up the bed on the floor earlier, but if I hurry now, maybe he won’t argue with me when I insist on sleeping on the floor.
I roll my eyes at the thought. Of course he’s going to argue with me. Because that’s who he is.
The pillows and blankets are still in there, neatly folded and arranged on the shelf in the closet, and I pull them all down andhave just started unfolding the thick comforter to lay it out for my bed when the door opens behind me. I glance back over my shoulder.
“Almost done.”
He shuts the door. “Ah, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
The implication is there—he’s planning to take the floor. He knows it, and he knows I know it.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Nope. Not this time.”
He gives me a look and then steps in and starts to take over, setting one of the pillows right near the nightstand. “I’m sleeping on the floor. You’re taking the bed.” He says this like it’s just the law or something, and part of me feels some weird tingle of warmth at his no-nonsense tone.
The other part of me gets angry.
“No chance.” I push myself in front of him to grab the second pillow, but he nabs it first.
“You sleep better in the bed, remember?” he says, even as I snatch the pillow away from him. He lets go, but his eyes are fucking beautiful. Shining with amusement or something.
I’m not really amused.
Or maybe I am.
I’m not sure.
I turn my back to him and set the pillow down on top of the other one. “Yeah, but it’s your bed. I’m not taking it away from you again.”
“You’re not sleeping on the floor, either,” he says, using that same tone as though he’s stating some undeniable fact.
A shiver runs down my spine, and I bite my lip as I ignore him, fluffing the pillows and then grabbing for the second blanket. His hand encircles my wrist, and I pause and lift my eyes to meet his.
“Take the bed. Please,” he says.
“No.”
“Nico.”
