“Listen, speaking of getting you drunk, which I’m not doing, but along the lines of … well, no, never mind that. What I’m trying to say is that I should tell you something.”
I stop midbite and look at her, thoroughly confused.
“I may have neglected to bring your pillow and blankets in from the rain,” she says. “I’m sorry. I just umm … was sleeping actually and then suddenly…” She mimes rain coming down. “It was pouring. Likereallypouring and your things were already soaked and so … I’m sorry about that.”
“That’s okay. I can make do on the love seat.”
She has a long sip of her drink. “No, I wouldn’t feel right about that. Not after the day you’ve had.” She swallows hard, her gaze moving to her plate to avoid eye contact. “And before you say it, I know you’re not going to want me to give up the bed for you, so I’m not going to propose that.”
I raise one eyebrow and do my best to hide the smirk that wants to come out. “What are you proposing?”
“I thought, well, since we’re two mature adults … with the ability to control ourselves—not that either of us needs to control ourselves because we’re just two people who happen to be stuck here together and aren’t … you know … interested in each otherthat way…” Her voice trails off and part of me wants to rescue her from this awkward moment. But the rest of me needs to see how this plays out, so I just sit and wait for her to stumble her way through it. You know, like a total jerk. “But, ummm, I thought we could probably do a reasonable job of sharing the bed without it becoming a problem.”
I nod slowly and glance up at the ceiling, as though the thought had never occurred to me. “Oh, did you?”
“Yes, well, I mean, I was thinking, it’s what I would do if I were stranded with another woman. That way we’d both be able to sleep somewhere comfortable,” she says. “It’s not as if anything would happen. It’s just sleeping.”
“You mean if you were sharing a bed with a woman?”
Her face turns even more red. “With you. I mean, if you were stuck here with a guy, you’d share the bed, wouldn’t you?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I wouldn’t. That would be weird.”
“What if it was your grandpa?”
“Then I’d give him the bed.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“It would be weird to sleep with your own grandfather?”
Nodding, I say, “Yup. Totally weird. He’d tell you the same thing.”
“Wow,” she mutters. “Men are strange. Okay, well, anyway, we don’t have to share the bed. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or something. I just thought … pajamas and you know … just purely for sleeping purposes, but … it’s your call.”
I let my lips spread into a grin that gives the game away. “Let’s do it.”
“It wouldn’t be weird?”
“No, New York, it would not be weird. I think we should sleep together.”
Her eyes grow wide and she blinks a couple of times. “But just sleeping.”
“Right. Nothing else. You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine,” I tell her lifting the forkful of pasta to my mouth. “But you should know, I can’t sleep in a shirt.”
“Oh,” she says, her eyes flicking down to my chest. “What do you sleep in?”
“Boxers. But I could sleep in some shorts if that would make you more comfortable. Just not a shirt. Never could. Not even as a kid.”
She licks her lips, then tries to sound nonchalant. “That won’t be a problem for me.”
“Good.”
