We wander back through to the bedroom. He goes to get us water while I continue to poke around. I look up and hit the jackpot. There’s a big accordion wall hook by the door and on it hang his many hats.
“I can’t believe how many hats you have,” I call over my shoulder.
“Why not? Hats are great.” He has returned with two glasses of water. He puts mine down on the nightstand nearest tome.
I pull down what I consider to be his signature cap—forest green, embroidered with the wordFranks—and pop it on my head.
“How do I look?” I ask, standing in front ofhim.
“Like you dressed up as me for Halloween.”
“The correct answer there was ‘beautiful,’ ” I say, flinging the cap toward him. He catches it with a laugh and sets it on the dresser.
“Was it? My bad.”
He moves towardme.
“I think I’ll keep the T-shirt,” I muse.
“In that case, I better do this,” he says, and before I can ask whatthisis referring to, he’s peeling the T-shirt back up over my head.
“Hey,” I protest, snatching it back out of his hand. “I need that.”
“You definitely don’t.”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hop up into his arms. “At least let me put it back then.”
—
Like the living space, the bedroom faces out toward the water. The city is quieter this late, but there’s still the low hum of traffic, playing like a soothing background track.
We’re tucked into bed now, our heads on the same pillow. The moonlight shining through his bedroom window offers justenough light that I can see the angles of his face. Connor runs his hand up and down over the curves and dips of my waist while I trace the edge of his shoulder, both of us content to explore. He never explicitly asked me to stay. It was more like the thought of me leaving never crossed his mind.
“I like it here,” I tellhim.
“Yeah?”
If you had asked me before to imagine where Connor lived, I’m not sure I could have even pictured it, but now that I’m here I can’t fathom anything else. It’s so quietly grownup.
“You make more sense to me now. You know, it’s weird. We spend all this time together, but I feel like I don’t know that much about you. I’m always wondering what you’re thinking.”
He fights a smile. “Well, that’s a coincidence, because I’m always wondering what you’re thinking.”
“You first.”
“OK. What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” I say. My mind finds its most pressing question. “What did you think of Dan?”
“He was much as I expected. Not who I’d marry, but he seems mostly harmless.”
“Did they seem happy to you? My mom says yes, but I think she’s wrong. I think Shannon wants to dump him.”
“You think or you want?”
“Think,” I insist. “I get the vibe she doesn’t want to marry him.”
“And if she does?”
