Page 27

27

SCARLETT

M aybe I should just give up on sleeping tonight.

It’s a school night, and I slid into bed at the very reasonable time of 10:25 pm. Now it’s just past one in the morning, and I haven’t gotten a minute of sleep.

I’ve been lying here with my eyes closed, I’ve even resisted the temptation to reach for my phone, but my stupid brain just won’t let itself turn off.

With a groan of defeat, I fling off my blanket and swing my feet onto the floor.

I’ll go downstairs and get a drink, and then maybe I’ll just throw in the towel and scroll on my damn phone, letting the possibility of a decent night’s sleep truly fade into nothingness. Hopefully I end up with at least two or three hours of shut-eye before I have to get up for classes in the morning.

I open the door and step into the hallway at the same time the bathroom door opens. My breath hitches as I’m met with the wide expanse of a bare, muscular chest.

Sebastian is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, his leanly muscled body on full display. And I do mean full display.

I can’t say I’ve pondered the question before, but now I know what Sebastian wears to sleep: nothing.

Without asking permission from my brain, my gaze hovers down his frame of its own accord, raking over his defined six-pack abs, down to—oh, wow. Sebastian’s definitely a shower .

I pull my eyes away from the impressive girth of his flaccid penis. Sebastian does a little jolt of startle and covers himself with his hands.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he blurts. “Guess I should get in the habit of wearing a pair of shorts to the bathroom now that the house isn’t a sausage fest.”

Sebastian’s boyish grin and good humor keep the run-in from being awkward. Actually, it’s kind of weird that I don’t feel my cheeks going red or any heat stirring between my legs even though a drop-dead gorgeous guy with a perfect, sculpted body is standing right in front of me.

I can recognize how hot he is, but it doesn’t translate to any feelings of lust or desire.

Which is funny, because Sebastian’s more my usual type. His look and personality give off more artist vibes than jock vibes, despite the peak shape of his body. He’s closer to the kind of guys I’ve always been drawn to than Lane is.

But it’s still Lane who makes a tender ache of want coil low in my belly every time I come near him; who has electric heat crackling through my bloodstream whenever we accidentally share a glancing touch …

Lane wasn’t my type back in Chicago, when he gave me the best summer of my life.

He’s not my type now, while we’re living together.

But in both situations, my body and my heart have never responded to anyone the way they do to him.

“I think four guys and one girl still definitely counts as a sausage fest. Maybe just not a sausage factory.” Sebastian chuckles at my joke. “And you guys are the ones doing me a solid by letting me stay here. I’m your guest. So don’t change your habits because of me. Eat breakfast naked at the dining room table if you want,” I say with a casual shrug.

“Nah, don’t give me that. This is your home now as much as it is ours. We want you to feel comfortable. It’s gotta be weird living with a bunch of jocks you just met.”

Even though I don’t feel uncomfortable at all, I can’t deny the sheer bizarreness of standing here having a conversation with a butt-naked hockey player who’s hiding his junk with his bare hands.

“Not as weird as I would have expected, honestly. It’s—” My words catch in my throat when another door in the hallway opens, and Lane steps out.

He’s wearing a loose cotton t-shirt and a tight pair of boxer briefs that cling to his hips and show off the long, muscular columns of his legs. His hair is tousled, and in the pale blue light of the moon that filters through the hallway window, I notice that his cheeks are coated with more stubble than I’ve ever seen on him before.

Now I have that physical reaction that even a full-frontal view of Sebastian didn’t spark. Heat throbs at the height of my thighs, and a thrill shoots up my spine and expands through my chest, tightening my nipples into firm nubs.

Nubs that I’m one hundred percent sure are pointing through the thin fabric of my tank top, because Lane’s gaze drops to my chest, and his jaw ticks.

“Hey, Lane,” Sebastian drawls casually, “you’re overdressed for this convo.”

Lane’s gaze slices to Sebastian. In the dim light, I can see his nostrils flair, his brow lower, and his features harden.

“Why are you naked in front of Scarlett?” The edge in his voice is sharp enough to cut glass.

“I was just going to the bathroom when she happened to step out of her room.” Sebastian’s shoulders shrug, both hands still cupped in front of his pelvis. “You know I like to sleep naked.”

Amusement makes my mouth twitch. “He knows that? Hmm. I’m now imagining a very provocative cuddling situation.”

Lane folds his arms over his chest. The way the pose makes his forearms look even thicker than usual does nothing to loosen the tightness coiling low inside me.

“I’ll have you know, Rhys is the only man in this house I’ve shared a bed with.”

The naked man’s eyebrows wiggle playfully. “Yet,” he says archly to Lane.

Lane’s brow lowers some more. “Get some fucking clothes on, Seb. New rule: no traipsing around the house naked now that we have a girl living with us.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sebastian says as he casually saunters back to his room and shuts the door. I resist sneaking a peek to find out just how tight and firm his backside is.

Even if said backside is an eleven out of ten, it’s hard to direct my gaze to anything else when Lane is standing here in a short-sleeve shirt and underwear, radiating waves of protectiveness.

I’m about to say something to him, but he steps back into his room and closes the door behind him. A cold sprinkle of disappointment douses the embers that were flickering in my chest.

After using the bathroom, I decide to go down to the kitchen and get a drink of water. Maybe a little snack. I just know that I don’t want to get back into my bed and toss and turn, trying flutily to grasp at sleep.

Downstairs, midway to the kitchen, I smack into another chest—this time, it’s Lane’s.

I gasp and step back, my eyes adjusting to the darkness and making out the outline of his form in the dim moonlight.

“Lane,” I say his name with surprise. “What are you doing down here?”

He shrugs. “Karate contest.”

I roll my eyes at his joke. “Well, I hope you won.”

“Fourth place, actually.”

I laugh. “Well, that still sounds pretty good.”

“How about you? Coming down for a drink? Or the jiu-jitsu competition?”

“Just a drink, believe it or not,” I say with my lips twitching. “Or a snack. I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.”

“Hm,” Lane hums, his hands propping on his hips. “Me neither.”

It’s weird, but I feel a sudden comfort at Lane’s words. Like I’m not alone in my insomniac struggles tonight. It’s like we’re comrades, and the moment fills with a sort of pleasant, intimate feeling.

Lane dips his head to the living room. “Wanna watch something? I can just tell I’m not gonna be able to fall asleep any time soon.”

I agree, and we sit down on the couch together. Lane grabs the remote and turns on a streaming service. “Have anything in mind?”

“Oh, I do! It’s called Lie to My Heart .”

Lane turns to me, crooking an eyebrow. “ Lie to My Heart .”

I nod excitedly. “Yeah, it’s this K Drama that’s supposed to be really, really good that Netflix just got the rights to.”

“K Drama.” Lane uses the same nonplussed inflection he just did when he repeated the title of the show back to me.

I roll my lips. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what K Drama is.”

“Korean, right?”

“Wow,” I reply with sarcastic enthusiasm. “You have the bare minimum of cultural awareness. Good for you, Lane!”

He rolls his eyes and huffs out a laugh. “I know of them, I’ve just never watched any before.”

“Well, you’re gonna love this show.”

Another eye roll and another huff-laugh. “We’ll see.”

Lane’s words are skeptical, but forty minutes later when the first episode ends, he presses the Next Episode button so fast it’s like he trained for it.

And when the credits for the second episode roll, Lane’s mouth hangs open.

“How could Min-jung do that?”

“I know,” I answer, equally outraged. “After Joo-hee confided in her about her mother’s illness? To betray her like that just to get assigned to a better project?” I shake my head.

The show is about a group of college students from a top university who secure spots in a cut-throat internship program at some mega-corporation in Seoul. Two episodes in and it’s already brimming with angst, betrayal, and convoluted love triangles.

“Should we stay up to watch the next episode?” I ask.

“Are you kidding?” Lane hits the button to play it.

I belly laugh when Lane lets out the most girlish gasp I’ve ever heard after the third episode starts with a big plot twist.

Tonight, insomnia doesn’t feel so bad.