“I will.” He kisses my nose. “But not tonight. We both need sleep.”
Our party for two ends soon after. Unlike my roommates, I don’t drink that often, so my tolerance is shitty. I change into my sleep shorts and brush my teeth. It’s not until I’m back in the room, staring at Vivian curled on one side of the bed, that I remember.
There’s only one bed.
“Uh, Vivian? Do you want me to sleep in the chair?” The armchair in the corner doesn’t look that comfortable.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Get in.”
I slip under the sheets. The bed is big enough for us not to touch, but I’m hyperaware of Vivian being so close. How am I going to sleep like this?
I want to hold him. Breathe in his scent. Tuck his body into mine where it belongs.
Vivian scoots until he’s curled into me. He takes my arm and wraps it around his body. “I didn’t like you being that far away. Is this okay?”
“Yeah.” I take a few deep breaths to relax. “Vivian?”
“Yes, Jonah?”
“You’re really going to teach me?”
He turns in my arms so he’s facing me. God, he’s so beautiful. “I will. I’ll teach you everything you want to know. But there’s one thing I need you to do for me, Jonah.”
I’m almost afraid to ask. “What’s that?”
He kisses me sweetly. “Ask me again when you’re sober.”
“Stop talking.” Vivian scowls at me.
We’re in the hotel dining room having breakfast. He’s wearing sunglasses to hide his bloodshot eyes.
I bite back a smile. “I can’t say good morning?”
“You can. If you say it quietly.” He pours more creamer into his already sugary coffee. “So quietly that it’s just inyourhead.”
“Okay,” I mouth, without making a sound.
“Ugh. Still too loud.” He grabs his coffee and retreats to our table.
Hungover-Vivian is surprising but also adorable. Like a grumpy kitten. I keep those thoughts to myself because Vivian will lash out, not caring who gets injured.
I don’t feel great, but I’m doing better than him. I fill my plate with bacon, eggs, and potatoes, glad that I still have my appetite.
I might be the only one.
“One bite,” Dad says, holding a fork up to Maisy.
I’m not sure why Dad is trying to feed her when she usually doesn’t need help. But she shakes her head at the offer of a waffle. That answers one question, but it brings up others. Waffles are her favorite food, so I’m not sure what’s going on.
Carolynda stares at the lone piece of toast on her plate. Her lips are pressed tightly together. Is she upset?
I sit across from Vivian. He ignores everyone and sips his coffee.
The room is noisy around us. The clink of silverware on plates. The television blaring on about a record heat wave for this time of year. Laughter from teen girls at the table next to us. At our table, the silence seems to last forever. “We’re a lively group this morning.”
“In your head, Jonah.” Vivian takes a slow sip of coffee and gives me a warning glare that I ignore. He’s not the boss of me.
“Poor baby,” I say with a chuckle.
