Page 32 of The Score

Mild panic has me sitting up. Blankets roll down, revealing my tank top.

"Sleeptogether," he insists. "Not a euphemism. Your mom gave me a short, sweet talk downstairs. She ended it by suggesting we should finallysleeptogether now that we're… engaged."

Two of his fingers tap on his hip. The line between his eyebrows remains. His gaze is locked on me.

Fuck, I'm getting cold. That's why my nipples harden, I'm sure.

I clear my throat. "We don't need to do it just because she said so."

"I can go back downstairs if you don't want me to sleep with you." He nods. "We can say the bed was too small."

The bed is queen-sized. We're big people. We'll be tight.

He gives it a dubious look, while I get tingly all over. We'll be so close together, biology will act up for sure.

Well, whatever. It's just biology.

I shrug and pull back the covers. "Get in already. It's cold, and we need to make them believe it's really real. So real. The realest it's ever been."

He gawks. "You're in your underwear."

I gaze down my thick hips and thighs, like I don't know what I'm wearing. Trying to see things from his point of view, I imagine him noting how all that skin is only interrupted by a simple light blue patch of fabric. It's the only thing I'm wearing alongside my tank top.

For as long as we've been friends, we have avoided seeing each other in underwear. Many reasons probably exist. Now we're sleeping together on a small mattress, him in his very soft clothes and me in a lack thereof.

"See all these blankets?" I ask like it's nothing. Like I need to explain myself. "I made myself cozy."

"This isn't how you typically sleep."

"It is when I don't expect anyone to see me."

Even back at the camping grounds, I put on shorts on top of my underwear.

"Please get in," I add. "Nothing's going to happen. We're adults. The rest— whatever— bodies do weird things sometimes."

"Hmm." He takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves it on the side table.

I pull the blankets away some more.

"We need to convince them we're in love." He purses his lips and gets in. "If this were real, I wouldn't want to stay away."

Ugh, more adrenaline injected into my bloodstream. It doesn't get better when I feel the warmth radiating off his body, and the full height of him at my side. It's been years since I've shared my bed with anyone and suddenly I'm craving skin-to-skin contact. My heart quickens. He shifts until he finds a good position and, each time the mattress moves with the force of it, it knocks away some of my resistance.

"God, you're like a furnace," I say.

It's not a complaint, even if it sounds like one.

He glances at me. "I thought you're a cold sleeper."

"I am, but there's a range of perfection."

I sit up again and take a couple blankets off.

"Ah," he says. "You meant a picky sleeper."

"Hey!" I chuckle and throw myself back, head to the pillow. "You're the one sneaking into my bed. Show some respect."

The short hairs of his leg tickle mine. A shiver runs up my spine. I consider creating much needed distance somehow, but he moves away and crosses his legs at his ankles. It doesn't create a lot of room, but enough.