Inside, Tate’s flicking on the lamp near my bed, setting down my overnight water bottle and pulling back the covers like he wasn’t the one who growled about not sharing beds just two nights ago.
Carter sets me down gently, brushing the hair from my forehead.
“Jacket off,” Tate orders. “Arms up.”
I let them undress me like I’m made of spun sugar. Carter changes my shirt into one of his oversized ones. Tate helps me step out of my jeans, tugging the covers up and tucking me in without a word.
I blink up at them both. “You sleeping in the bed again?”
Tate sighs. “Yeah.”
Carter grins. “You didn’t even argue this time.”
“I’m exhausted, but if you snore one mo—.”
“I do not—”
“You whimper in your sleep, Carter.Whimper.”
I laugh into the pillow, and then I feel Carter curl in beside me, one arm looping around my waist. Tate joins from the other side, cooler against my back.
We don’t talk much after that. There’s just the sound of our breathing and their heartbeats.
29
Tate
The day we’re supposed to head out for Finals doesn’t feel real until we’re actually getting our shit together.
Up until that point, it was just another noise in my head—notifications, schedules, reminders stacked on top of each other. The drive’s going to take two hours give or take, depending on traffic. The call time’s strict. Check-in, setup, sound check, warm ups. No delays or excuses. Once we’re in, we’re in.
No resets.
I run through it all, mentally checking off steps so I can stay ahead of it if I map it out enough times.
It doesn’t stop the slight pressure from settling in though.
Haven’s moving around the apartment like she’s trying not to think about it too hard—grabbing things, setting them down, picking them back up like she forgot why she needed them in the first place.
It turns into full-blown chaos. I haven’t even had coffee yet, and Haven’s already in pre-final meltdown mode.
Carter’s crouched on the floor sorting through power strips and surge protectors like a man preparing for war, and Haven’s somewhere between a breakdown and a motivational pep talk she’s giving herself under her breath in front of the bathroom mirror.
I stand in the middle of it all, sipping from an energy drink. The can’s half-crushed in my grip. I wonder if maybe today’s the day I actually lose my fucking mind. Or maybe today’s the day I prove I don’t.
Carter makes a strangled noise from under the desk. “Did we bring the HDMI splitter?”
I don’t even look before I toss a bottle of water at his head instead.
“Drink something,” I say, because I’m not about to watch him pass out in the middle of this shitstorm. “Hydration before devastation.”
Carter catches it, barely. “You’re such a dick in the morning.”
“Thank you,” I say sarcastically sweet, adjusting the hem of my hoodie.
I glance toward Haven. I watch her for a second longer than I should, I know she’s not just nervous.
She’s bracing. That’s the part I don’t like. And I don’t have the patience to let her sit in it.
