Page 69 of The Evidence of Us

A strip of moonlight cuts across her face, catching on the tip of her perfect nose. He lets his fingertip run down it just once—barely a touch. Just enough to reassure himself this is real, that she is.

He shouldn’t have touched her at all. He knows that. But as she exhales against the base of his throat, that unconscious sound of trust, regret feels like the wrong word.

He closes his eyes, tells himself he’ll pull away once he’s positive she’s fully asleep.

He doesn’t.

Lila

My bladder wakes me at some time around 3AM. I carefully extract myself from Theo’s arms—because apparently that’s a thing now—and stumble toward the bathroom.

On the way back, I do what any sleep-deprived, emotionally conflicted person would do; I text my best friends.

Lila: Emergency.

Calla: ANOTHER ONE? Is this a REAL emergency?

Serena: It might be since it’s 3AM. Scale of 1 to you thinking your spleen ruptured because you ate expired sushi, where are we?

Lila: Why are you two awake?

Serena: Five and a half seasons deep in my rewatch of Dexter and I can’t stop now.

Calla: Why are YOU awake?

Lila: I’m currently fake-dating a man who feels like a goddamn space heater when he’s curled around me in bed and I think I might be developing a severe case of feelings. Send help.

Serena: …

Calla: ....

Serena: We told you. We TOLD YOU.

Lila: No, see, this isn’t my fault. This is HIS fault. He’s the one who pulled me in.

Lila: He sensed the weight of my day.

Calla: So what you’re saying is you’re cuddling now.