But it’s not long before I hear the springs of the bed above me squeak, marking Colton’s restless movements.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask, already aware of the answer.
“Nope,” he groans.
Poor guy sounds miserable.
“That bad? Is your bed as uncomfy as mine?”
“Yes, but …” Colton hesitates.
“But what?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“There’s a hair on my sheets.”
“A hair?”
“Yes. A big red one.”
I try to hold in my laughter. “Maybe it’s a thread or something.”
“Trust me, Missy. It’s a long red strand of hair draped across my sheets like it owns them. I can’t unsee it. It’s all I can think about.”
Unable to contain it any longer, a laugh bubbles out of me. “You poor tortured soul.”
“Are you laughing at my pain?” I can hear the smile in his voice. “It’s gross, Missy. I can’t sleep when Big Bertha is here with me.”
“You named it? Wait, why is it still there? Just pull it off.”
“Why on earth would I touch it?”
My body shakes with laughter. I grab the flashlight from my bed and fling my blanket off, stepping barefoot onto the cement floor. “I’m coming up.”
“To get it?” There is so much hope in his voice that it makes me laugh even harder. I almost lose it as I scale the rusting metal ladder up to his bed.
“You’re my hero. Did you know that?” Colton says, just as I reach the top rung.
“All right, where’s the offender?” I ask.
Colton scootches farther down his bed, taking his thin blanket with him and exposing the fitted sheet beneath. I shine the flashlight across his narrow bed, and, not seeing it, I crawl uponto the mattress that is more apt for the body of a pencil than for a human, especially a Colton-sized human.
“I don’t see it,” I say.
Colton points to the barest sliver of a shimmering hair in the corner of his bed, and I have no control over the snort-laugh that comes out of me.
“It’s just a little hair, is all.” I look up at Colton, who’s moments away from dry heaving, and put him out of his misery, plucking off the red hair that likely came from one of the two redheaded staff members I’ve seen once or twice and let it float to the ground.
“There. All good!” I smile, trying to quell another snort.
He sighs in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. Then a smile curves his lips, capturing my attention from the inside out. In a single second, I’m overtaken by the Downing genes. And these are no off-brand, wannabe GQ model genes; these are the gold standard of human genetics shining their full force at me. While I’ve known Colton for years, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him quite as handsome as he is right now. The full, tilted lips, his untamed hair, and that beard. Oh, mercy. It’s the Colton Downing special, and I’m buying.
It’s at this time that I notice I’m crouched on my haunches like a toad on a lily pad. It’s giving ribbit ribbit, when what I want to be giving is hubba hubba. Not to mention, my hair hasn’t been properly combed in weeks, and I still can’t find my deodorant, though I think I smell more like dirt than BO at this point. Regardless, it’s time for me to bounce off this bed and descend into my bunk cave. “Um, okay, well, good night.”
Colton nods his head all sultry-like. “Good night, Missy Jean.”
Feeling all shook up, I scale down the ladder while holding the flashlight in my left hand.
I’m just about to the bottom rung when I sense something in my periphery—something moving. It takes all I have in meto shine my flashlight on the spot of the floor where I sensed movement. And as soon as I do, I scream.
