I reach for her, and our limbs tangle together. My hands wander over her back, up to her shoulders, and she does the same to me, like we can’t get enough of this contact.
“What are we going to do about Dr. Gambill?” she murmurs into my neck.
“What do you mean? You want to kill him?”
“He jokes again,” she says. “That’s two in one month.” She pulls her head back. “He knows.”
I shrug. “He can’t prove anything. And anyway, we aren’t doing anything wrong.”
“I’m worried.”
“Don’t be.” I stroke her back again. “It’s going to be fine.”
“Easy for you to say.” She squeezes me around the middle. “This feels an awful lot like a boyfriend sort of sleepover.” Her voice trembles a little.
A flash of heat travels up my body. I could play that sentence on a loop for the next few weeks and never tire of it.
“Is that a bad thing?” I scoot closer to her, even though we are already plastered against each other.
“Grant . . .”
“Yeah. I know.”
This is hurting both of us, but I can’t seem to stop. Our self-imposed deadline is less than two weeks away, and it’s approaching with lightning speed. I’m going to soak in her presence in the meantime, whether or not it’s actually a good idea.
It’s Friday, and Kendall and I have spent almost every night this week together. We’ve been bouncing back and forth between each other’s places and pretending that isn’t a huge deal. Now we’re together again. My roommate is at the hospital, so I have her alone. I’ve got big plans for her involving a lack of clothing and more than thirty minutes together.
She sits on the couch. I like how she looks in my apartment—with the beige walls, muted wall art, and soft lighting, she’s like a splash of vibrant color, even wearing something neutral like she is now.
“I’m surprised you aren’t dead on your feet,” she says. “This week was brutal, wasn’t it?”
“At this point, I’m used to the punishing schedule. And the lack of sleep. You learn to grab leisure time where you can.”
I’m walking for the couch when my doorbell rings. What the hell?
I consider ignoring it, but someone presses it again. I walk over and through the glass planes I can just make the edges of my mom’s coat.
“Fuck.” I mutter. I turn to Kendall. “Can you play along here?”
She’s standing now. “What are we doing?”
“A little rebellion.”
She aims a mischievous grin at me. “Ooh, I love rebellion.”
I open my door. My parents are both there. Mom’s smilinglike she hasn’t just driven to Louisville and invited herself over for the second time in a month.
“I didn’t know you guys were coming up,” I say.
“I texted. And called,” Mom says. She peers around me. “Can we come in?”
“I have company.” My teeth are gritted.
“Oh, you have a friend over?” She steps over the threshold, and Dad follows. “Well, hi there.” She smiles at Kendall. “Aren’t you pretty.”
Kendall wears a bright smile. She’s got on jeans and an oatmeal-colored sweater, so she’s not dressed up, but somehow she makes everything fancy. The bracelet I got her glints on her wrist.
She steps forward. “Hi there. I’m Kendall.” She sticks her hand out. “How are ya’ll?” She’s laying the accent on a little thick, and I cover a laugh with my hand.
