‘Very funny,’ I muttered. ‘Just go to sleep.’
He flicked the lamp off.
Silence.
The gap between us could’ve fit three grown adults.
Each of us had our own duvet.
Not even a wrinkle crossed the invisible line.
I opened one eye.
The dark made it hard to see, but after a minute, my sight adjusted.
He was lying flat, hands tucked under his pillow, breathing slow and even.
I stared.
He didn’t move.
It was unsettling.
He was being... well-behaved. Too well-behaved.
He usually insisted on a kiss.
Or so dumb excuse to touch my face.
I stayed awake, waiting.
Nothing.
Eventually, my eyes burned.
I tried to hold them open.
I lost.
Sleep dragged under before I could work out what the hell he was plotting.
Soti in the morning, I blinked awake.
My face was pressed against bare skin. Warm, smooth, and definitely not a pillow.
My arm was hooked over a chest that rose and fell in slow, steady breaths.
His chin grazed the top of my head.
My leg was draped over his hip like I’d lost all sense of self-respect in the night.
I stared at Ashton’s throat and waited for the rest of to wake up and explain how the hell this had happened.
His arm tightened around my waist. His voice was half-asleep. ‘You crawled over in the middle of the night. I tried to stop you.’
I shoved at his shoulder. ‘Bullshit.’
‘I’m serious.’ He didn’t open his eyes. ‘You were like a heat-seeking missile. I nearly fell off the edge.’
I glanced over his shoulder.
He was one bad roll away from landing on the floor.
We were both tucked on the left side of the bed, under his duvet.
Which made no sense.
I’d gone to sleep hugging my edge, wrapped in my own blanket, chanting in my head that I was not, under any circumstances, allowed to touch him.
And yet here I was.
He gave a martyred sigh. ‘You stole my blanket. Took over half the bed. Nearly killed . Then woke up and glared like I wronged you.’
I squinted at him. ‘Fine. I’ll be more careful next ti.’
‘Good.’ He yanked closer, one hand splayed across my spine. ‘Now shut up and go back to sleep.’
He didn’t move again.
And for so reason, neither did I.
The next few nights, I kept going to his room.
It was easier than pretending I wanted to be anywhere else.
He didn’t try anything.
No wandering hands, no weird suggestions.
Just sleep.
Every night, sa deal.
In the mornings, I always woke up in the sa place, warm, comfortable, pinned against a wall of muscle and heat.
After a while, I stopped thinking of it as his bed.
It just beca the place I slept.
He’d basically beco my designated sleep buddy, I thought.
But I knew better than to tell him that.
Over breakfast, I told him, ‘I’ve got that design competition coming up. The Aureate Awards. It’s in Riverbend.’
‘That’s hours away. When are you leaving?’
‘The event’s on the third. I’m flying out the day before.’
He set his phone down. ‘Leave earlier. I’ve got etings at the LGH site in Riverbend. I’m flying there tomorrow morning. Co with .’
I shrugged. ‘Sure. I’ve never been. Might as well go poke around.’
Riverbend was a seaside city that looked like a screensaver.
Mid-twenties weather all year.
Palm trees, fancy villas, streets that probably slled like sunscreen.
Tourist central, especially during winter.
The competition organisers had picked it for that exact reason—easy press, guaranteed crowd, every photo perfectly backlit.
The next morning, we flew out at eight.
We landed just after noon.
The second I stepped onto the tarmac, sunlight smacked across the face.
Sharp, blinding heat.
My jumper instantly beca a prison.
‘Why the hell did I wear wool?’ I muttered. ‘I should’ve just brought a T-shirt.’
Ashton had both our suitcases.
I caught up, yanking off my jumper and tying it around my waist.
The terminal was packed.
Noisy, sweaty, impatient.
College students everywhere, so with rucksacks, so with glitter on their faces.
It looked like a festival had thrown up all over the arrival lounge.
I stopped dead. ‘Shit.’
Ashton asked, ‘What?’
‘It’s New Year’s Eve. Tonight. I forgot.’
‘And?’
‘And Riverbend does huge countdown events. Like, fireworks, parades, DJs on the beach. I saw it on TikTok. That’s why this place is ramd. They’re all here to party.’
Ashton looked around at the chaos.
Soone tripped over his suitcase.
A girl in sparkly boots scread sothing about tequila.
‘Good timing then,’ Ashton said. ‘We get to see the celebration up close.’
I elbowed him. ‘You planned this. Don’t even lie.’
He didn’t deny it.
A kid bolted past and slamd into my hip before I saw him coming.
I stumbled sideways, caught my balance, and turned just in ti to see him disappear into the crowd.
A woman—mid-thirties, sweaty, frantic—snatched him by the hood and shouted a string of apologies over her shoulder.
‘Jesus,’ I muttered, brushing my jumper.
Ashton caught my hand. ‘It’s packed. Stay close.’
I laced my fingers through his.
We walked out together.
A black SUV waited at the kerb, idling with the air con on blast.
I climbed in and pulled the door shut.
Cold air hit like a slap.
I sank into the seat and exhaled.
‘Finally. I’ve been sweating since baggage claim. How is it this hot in December?’
Ashton got in on the other side and nodded at the driver. ‘Let’s go.’ Then to , ‘There’s clothes in the bag. You’ll want to change.’
‘We heading to the hotel now?’
He handed a water bottle. ‘No hotel. I’ve got a place here.’
‘Of course you do.’
He smiled, then stretched his legs out and closed his eyes.
I passed out sowhere along the drive and woke up when the car stopped.
Outside, a two-storey house stood behind a low white gate.
It wasn’t flashy. Small garden, wooden shutters, green lawn with patches of yellow flowers.
The air slled like soil and cut grass.
No traffic noise. Just wind and so bird making a racket near the roof.
I got out and blinked at the sun.
It felt like spring.
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