“I got back from the Lawn like a half hour ago. Garrett’s still out.”
Charlotte almost told him that she’d left his roommate hunched over Wynn’s laptop watching Say Yes to the Dress with him and Jio, but she didn’t know what Reece knew about Garrett’s queerness. That was between them, and it wasn’t her information to share.
She waited for him to invite her in. Reece didn’t move in the doorway.
In college their roles were usually reversed. If they didn’t meet up at some party, Reece arrived all sweaty and buzzed at her door at the end of the night. She would let him into her apartment. He kissed down her throat until their self-consciousness bled away and they pretended not to care about each other. Just sex. Just distraction. Just release.
The old script hung over their shoulders, but carelessness didn’t fit anymore. He couldn’t paper over his feelings for her, and she couldn’t refuse to feel anything at all. It was far too late for that.
“Listen, I’m sorry—” she started.
“Don’t.” Reece shook his head, that loose curl swinging across his forehead. He swiped at it as he stepped back, opening the door wider. “Just come in.”
A thread of resignation ran through the invitation. Charlotte bristled but followed his instructions.
Moonlight spilled through the open blinds. Outside she could see students roaming campus, little more than dark forms lurching to their next destination.
She blinked as he closed the door.
“How are you feeling?” Reece leaned against the dresser, his arms folded across his chest.
Charlotte cleared her throat. “Oh, you know.”
He tilted his head to the side and watched her squirm. The silence stretched between them. Reece made no effort to rescue her from her discomfort. It dawned on her that he wasn’t going to let her wiggle out of talking about what happened at the party.
Damn it.
“Embarrassed, I guess.” Her voice was hoarse, which only made her feel worse. Reece had already seen too much of her tonight.
Reece started across the room, only to stop at the foot of his bed. He looked like he wanted to touch her but didn’t at the same time, restraining himself at the last moment. Instead, he gripped the footboard. “Why are you embarrassed?” he asked.
Like she hadn’t thrown up on him, or acted like a coward in front of her ex, or screamed at him to leave her alone.
Where to start?
Charlotte picked the worst infraction. “I yelled at you. You were being nice, and I yelled at you.”
Reece nodded grudgingly. “Yeah, you did. But you were having a panic attack and I crowded you.” He said it like it was nothing, a simple misunderstanding already resolved.
Charlotte’s hands fisted at her sides, nails biting into her palms. She didn’t want Reece to be mad at her, but his easy dismissal didn’t make any sense. “That doesn’t make it okay.”
“It’s all right.”
Reece ran his hand along the duvet. The bed was unmade—if he wasn’t asleep when she arrived, he’d nearly been. The urge to apologize again rose in Charlotte’s throat, but he didn’t look angry. If anything, he looked sad.
Were his eyes wet? Or was the moonlight playing tricks on her?
“I’m not mad at you,” he said, answering her unasked question. “I was just worried.” His forehead creased with those new worry lines.
Charlotte shifted on her feet. Worry. It seemed to surround her this weekend: Jackie’s judgmental worry, Nina’s understated worry, Reece’s earnest worry. She didn’t know what to do with more worry. It made her skin itch.
“I’m okay.” She gave him a hollow smile. “I’m fine!”
Reece’s eyes trailed from her snarled hair to her dusty shoes. He shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Charlie Thorne, always fine.” His words were thin, but he didn’t elaborate. “Let me find you something to wear.”
As Reece searched the explosion of clothes on his desk for makeshift pajamas, Charlotte focused on the simple task of getting ready for sleep. She tucked her shoes under the bed and texted Jackie that she would spend the night with Reece. She left her phone on the windowsill.
Reece gave her a clean T-shirt and a pair of boxers. He busied himself with plugging his phone in to charge as she changed. The shirt fell to just below her hips. Cartoon kittens scampered across the boxers. Charlotte balled up her clothes and put them next to her phone.
Having run out of stalling tactics, Charlotte hopped onto the mattress. She tucked herself in and scooted over to make room for him.
The bed shifted as he climbed up next to her. He avoided looking at her as he slid under the sheets.
They both knew the bed was too narrow to sleep without touching. Charlotte slowly turned to face the wall, and Reece positioned himself behind her, one arm curling around her waist. After a moment’s hesitation, she wove her fingers through his and held tight.
They had never done this before. Reece’s warm breath spilled across the back of her neck. The sensation was so unusual and pleasant that she blinked at the wall. Was sleep even possible like this? How did one doze off when squished against six feet of another human?
“Where did you go?” Reece murmured. As quiet as his words were, she clearly wasn’t the only one wide awake.
He meant where she’d gone after the party. His heartbeat against her back, a quick but steady thud thud, thud thud.
“My room. And then Acronym.”
Reece shifted to get more comfortable. He tucked his right arm underneath their shared pillow. Her nerves tightened as he engulfed her body in his warmth. It felt like being nestled in a padded envelope, precious cargo sent with care.
He squeezed her hand.
Little by little the tension left Charlotte’s limbs as she melted in the kiln of the too-small bed. Her body craved sleep. But images from the night kept whirling through her mind: Ben’s teeth flashing red in the party lights…Jackie pushing her to quit her job…Reece’s eyes electric with life on the President’s Lawn.
