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“What’s going on?” I ask, worry in my voice.

“They are closing the road, potentially all night. Major accident.”

A wave of panic washes through me. “H-how will I get home? This is the only way to my apartment other than the subway.”

“You’ll stay at mine.” He says as if it’s no big deal as he reverses the car, turning his head to look over his right shoulder, gripping the back of my headrest and spinning the wheel with the palm of his hand. That shouldn’t be as attractive as I’ve just found it, but holy hell.

“I can’t. I… I-I need to get home.” I begin to sweat, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it into the back seat, instantly regretting it when my bare skin meets the cool leather.

I don’t miss how his head turns slightly and his eyes scan my body till they meet mine. I swallow hard.

“I’ll take you home in the morning, but you’re not taking the subway.”

Accepting my fate, I twiddle my fingers and say, “Okay, thank you.”

I spend the rest of the journey mentally preparing to spend the night at his apartment. After my inappropriate thoughts in class a few days ago, that now seem to be a daily thing, I’m not sure how I am supposed to keep cool calm and collected when I’m inside his apartment, with him, alone. We pull into an underground parking lot, and he swings into a space effortlessly.

I follow him into the elevator and I bite down on my lip nervously, looking up at the ceiling.

The elevator dings and we step out to a dimly lit hallway, and I note his door is the only one on the floor.

“You’ll have to excuse all the boxes. I only moved in a few days ago, and I’m waiting for the rest of my stuff to be delivered,” he says, turning the lock and opening the door, ushering me in.

“That’s okay, I don’t mi—”

My words are cut off when he flicks the lights on. Small towers of boxes litter the open space. The dark kitchen cabinets catch my eye, and the large wooden island takes center stage in the area. The apartment has an industrial feel to it. I walk towards the middle of the room, taking in the exposed brickwork and high ceilings. A large window covers the far wall, giving a view of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s beautiful; it’s dark, edgy, moody, it’s so… him.

“It’s amazing, that view,” I say in awe, reaching the window and pressing my hand to the cold windowpane, watching the flickers of light speed across the bridge.

“Thanks. That view is what sold it to me,” he says, heading toward the refrigerator. “Do you want a drink?”

I nod. “Water, please.” When he hands me a bottle, I immediately twist open the cap and guzzle it down, desperately needing to ease this dryness in my throat I’ve had since I got in his car.

“I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll find something you can sleep in,” he says.

I swallow the last drop of my water, wiping my mouth with my fingertips. “No, no, that’s fine. I can just sleep on the couch in this,” I say, gesturing to my clothes.

“Gabriella, you can’t sleep in leather pants and my new couch hasn’t arrived yet.” I look round the room and notice that there isn’t a couch.

Oh Shit.

“My guest room isn’t ready yet either. I only have my bed.” An awkward silence falls between us as I stand wide eyed.

I can’t share a bed with him.

My expression must say it all because, on his next breath, he says. “You can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

The words are out of my mouth before I can think about them. “N-No, you can sleep with me.”

“I, uh ha-ha.” I nervously chuckle. “I mean, you can sleep in the bed with me. It doesn’t have to be weird. I won’t let you sleep on the floor, or I can sleep on the floor or a box, yeah, a box. I’m small enough, right, ha ha.” And there’s that awkward, goofy laugh I do when I’m nervous.

Dear God, Gabriella, stop talking.

A small laugh leaves his lips. It's deep and stirs something up inside of me.

“Gabriella, I’m not going to let you sleep in a box. We can share the bed.”

“Great, looking forward to it. Do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” I blurt out. Clamping my mouth shut I mentally chastise myself.