“Shit,” I mumble.
“I can’t believe how late it is.” She yawns again, which triggers a yawn of my own, and then we’re both sitting in my dark bedroom—I don’t even remember turning off the light—yawning like two people who haven’t slept in months.
“I should go.” She stumbles off the bed and rakes her hands through her hair. “Where’s my phone? I need to call a cab.”
My next yawn nearly breaks my jaw. “I can drive you,” I say groggily, sliding off the mattress.
“No way. You had two beers tonight.”
“Hours ago,” I object. “I’m good to drive.”
“No.”
Exasperation courses through me. “I’m not letting you take a cab and walk through campus at three in the fucking morning. Either I drive you, or you stay here.”
She looks startled. “I’m not staying here.”
“Then I’m driving you. No argument.”
Her gaze travels to the two Bud bottles on the nightstand. I sense her reluctance, but I also see the exhaustion lining her features. After a moment, her shoulders droop and she lets out a breath. “Fine. I’ll crash on your couch.”
I’m quick to shake my head. “No. It’s better if you sleep in here.”
Wrong thing to say, because her body goes stiffer than a board. “I’m not sleeping in your bedroom.”
“I live with three hockey players, Wellsy. Who, by the way, still aren’t home from a night of partying. I’m not saying it’ll happen, but there’s a chance one of them might stumble into the living room drunk off their asses and grope you or something if they find you on the couch. I, on the other hand, have no interest in groping you.” I gesture to my massive bed. “This thing can sleep seven. You won’t even know I’m here.”
“You know, a gentleman would offer to sleep on the floor.”
“Do I look like a gentleman to you?”
She laughs at that. “Nope.” There’s a beat of silence. “Okay, I’ll crash here. But only because I can barely keep my eyes open, and I really don’t want to wait for a taxi.”
I walk over to my dresser. “You want something to sleep in? T-shirt? Sweatpants?”
“A T-shirt would be great.” Even in the darkness, I can make out the flush on her cheeks. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?”
“Yup. Cabinet under the sink.” I give her one of my old T-shirts, and she disappears into the bathroom.
I strip off my shirt and jeans and climb into bed in my boxers. As I get comfortable, I hear the toilet flush and the faucet turn on and off, and then Hannah returns, her bare feet softly slapping the hardwood. She stands at the side of the bed for so long that I finally groan in irritation.
“Would you get in bed already?” I grumble. “I don’t bite. And even if I did, I’m half asleep. So quit looming over me like a weirdo and get in here.”
The mattress dips slightly as she climbs on the bed. There’s a tug on the blanket, a rustling and a sigh, and then she’s lying beside me. Well, not quite. She’s all the way on the other side of the bed, no doubt clinging to the edge of the mattress so she doesn’t fall off.
I’m too tired to make a sarcastic remark so I just mumble, “Night” and close my eyes again.
“Night,” she murmurs back.
A few seconds later, I’m dead to the world.
12
Garrett
I’m addicted to that moment right before I wake up, when the wispy cobwebs in my brain thread together to form a coherent ball of consciousness. It’s the ultimate WTF moment. Disorienting and foggy, with half my brain still lost in whatever dream I’m having.