I’ve never slept beside someone before, not unless Elsie counts. Come to think of it, I’ve never been in another man’s bed before. I keep my interactions with my food to what is strictly necessary, and there’s never been a need to climb into bed with one. There still isn’t.
But this isn’t just any man’s bed, it’s Elliot’s. And he’s looking at me with that stupid, lazy grin and those gorgeous green eyes. So, even though I don’tneedto stay, I’m still considering it.
“Fine,” I huff after a long while of us staring at each other. “But I want that side.”
I point to the place where Elliot is sprawled out, and his brows lift.
“You want my side?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Oh, sure, baby. No problem. I just need one thing from you.” He levels a stern glare in my direction. “Say the bike’s not stupid.”
“The bikeisstupid,” I say, stifling a laugh by biting my lip.
Elliot’s eyes widen, and his mouth drops open in horror as he spreads his limbs across the bed, taking up as much space as he can.
“Oh, no. There’s no more room. So sorry, maybe try the floor.”
I pick up the skirt I left folded on his desk and throw it at him, giggling like a fool.
“Fine, fine…” I concede. “The bike’s notthatstupid.”
His eyes narrow, and he holds up my skirt with the tip of his finger.
“You’re lucky you’re so fucking cute.”
He slides off the bed and sweeps the blankets back before rummaging through a drawer and holding out another of his giant t-shirts. This one has the word ‘Hellhounds’ written across the back in a bold gothic print. Another shirt he acquired at a concert last year.
I discard my top and pull the t-shirt over my head while Elliot takes a moment to fold my things and set my shoes beside his. He swaps his own pants for a pair of old gym shorts and forgoes a shirt altogether.
He is careful to make plain that this is not a big deal as he climbs back into bed. His gaze does not lift from his book as I crawl beneath the covers, and he doesn’t move an inch as my head hits the pillow. I lay beside him, watching as he flips through the pages, wholly ignoring me. Or, at least, pretending to.
“What’d you do to Argent?” I ask after a few moments of prolonged silence.
He smirks.
“I handled it.”
“Okaaay, but what does that mean?”
“It means that it’s been handled,” he repeats, and my teeth grind as he continues to read.
“Why are you being an ass?” I say.
Elliot sighs, and he shuts the book, holding his place with his finger as he glares at me.
“Because the less you know, the better,” he says plainly. “And I thought you were tired?”
I am. But I’m also very conscious of Elliot’s bare chest five inches from my face, and for some reason, it’s making it hard to close my eyes.
“I am,” I say. “I’m just?—”
My excuses are interrupted by the soft buzzing of my phone, and I sit up as we both turn to face the noise.
“Don’t—”
But it’s too late, Elliot’s already halfway across the room on the second ring, snatching up my phone and barking into the speaker.
