“He’s also not your type,” Erica whispered, which annoyed me…even though she was right. I always went for…well, anyone but the nice-guy athlete.
Getting ready for bed later was awkward. There was no other way to say it. After fluffing up Swede’s dog bed, I went to the bathroom to change into my pajamas. A pink-and-white sleep set that my dad called my “Eloise pj’s.” I braided my hair before brushing my teeth. It turned out Connor and I had identical electric toothbrushes.
“Is everything okay in there?” Connor asked once I’d moved on to moisturizing.
“Yeah!” I replied, busy rubbing in lavender lotion. “Why?”
He didn’t respond, and the silence made me realize that it was getting late and he hadn’t had a chance at the bathroom yet.
Oops.
At home, I shared a bathroom with the twins, but we rarely used it at the same time.
I tried not to blush when I stepped back into the bunk room. Swede was settled in his bed, and Connor was texting on the bottom bunk…wearing only a pair of striped boxers.
“All yours!” I chirped, to overcompensate for the swirl of heat on the back of my neck. No plaid pajama pants? Not even a T-shirt?
“Thanks.” Connor looked up from his phone and smiled at me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you.”
“It’s okay.” I shook my head before giving Swede somesnuggles. Then I climbed the bunk’s built-in ladder up to my bunk. The mattress could’ve been softer, but the cool covers felt luxurious against my skin. Smiling to myself, I switched off my light and settled into my pillows.
Suddenly exhausted.
I heard Connor pee and the toilet flush, the sink basin splashing with water as he washed his hands, and when he got into bed, his sleepy sigh was louder than mine. I also heard—andfelt—Swede tense up in the corner.
No, I thought.Please, no. No, no, no—
“Oh, hello,” Connor said from the bottom bunk. He sounded amused, but I doubted he actually was. “Buddy, I’m flattered…”
“We can switch bunks.” I gritted my teeth and pushed back my coverlet. Below, Swede was trying to claim space next to Connor. “I’m sorry. I should’ve taken the bottom. I knew he was going to do this. Every night he starts in his own bed but winds up with me like clockwork.”
Connor laughed. It was muffled, probably by Swede’s fur. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m all good down here.”
I winced. He was sonice.
“Okay, you may be comfortable now, but when you wake up at three a.m.—”
“He’ll be a living furnace taking up most of the bed,” Connor finished for me. “Trust me, I know, and it’s fine. My best friend has two huge dogs, and I’ve shared the couch with them a thousand times over the years.”
“What are their names?” my inner dog person asked.
“Arthur and Francine.”
“Oh, cute,” I said, then bit my pinkie nail. “If it doesn’t work out, you get the top tomorrow.”
“Deal,” he agreed, and from there, all three of us shifted until we were comfortable. My spine straightened at Connor’s sharp inhale. Swede had kicked him in the stomach.
But he didn’t say anything until all was quiet. “Olivia?”
“Yeah?” I just barely asked, my eyelids drifting shut.
I heard him swallow hard. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Nine
On Monday, I found myself sleeping so deeply that I barely felt my wrist buzz at 6:00 a.m. I’d worn my Apple Watch to bed, not wanting my phone alarm to wake Connor. He hadn’t seemed to be a night owl, but did that mean he was a morning person?
To be determined, I thought as I pushed back my covers and carefully descended the bunkbed’s ladder. The wood was cool against my bare feet, maybe even a little slippery. In fact, the whole room felt cool—and damp—from our cracked window. Not in a gross way, just different.
