Page 7

BEDROOM INTERLUDE

“ T hey’re so loud,” I whisper, rolling my eyes at the perfectly timed snort-snore Sid lets out. Derreck cracks a smile, shaking his head.

“I almost considered carrying you back to your bed to avoid this.”

“But?”

“Figured you deserved the whole experience. It’s not always sunshine and roses with this group.” He sighs, taking a moment to look over my face. Two days ago, I would’ve blushed under his gaze, or at the very least, averted my eyes to pretend I had no idea his attention was on me. Not this morning. I stare back at him, enamored at how the early sunshine illuminates the golden flecks in his eyes. His face softens the longer he looks at me, and it makes my stomach twist.

“I don’t want to leave,” I blurt out, my voice loud enough to cause Julian to stir behind me. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… it won’t be the same. It won’t feel…like this.”

“This was never going to be forever, Jay.”

“I know.”

I look down at the crinkled white sheet between us. It’s not fair. This weekend was too short to even begin to get used to, and now I’m expected to head home like nothing happened. Like I didn’t cry in these guys’ arms, like none of Julian’s words struck me to my core. We’re all just going to drive back to town and resume business as usual.

Back to my old life.

Back to the bedroom I never leave and the emptiness I never fill.

“It’s okay,” Derreck says, tapping my chin to look up at him. “You can come back next year. That’ll give you plenty of time to heal your ankle.”

I don’t feel like smiling, but I give him one anyway. It doesn’t stay long. “I don’t want to wait until then.”

I’m not sure what I thought would happen when I agreed to take Dad’s spot on the trip. Maybe I’d planned on holing up in yet another bedroom, pretending like the outside world didn’t exist. Maybe I’d been ready to sleep through it all until Sunday afternoon when Julian took me home. It wasn’t this, though. It wasn’t suddenly seeing the open door in front of me after months of thinking it was locked.

“We wait a year because we work together,” he says softly. “But you’re not one of your father’s employees. You—and we—can do whatever we’d like. Don’t think you gotta sit on your hands for an entire year.”

I lean forward to kiss Derreck. It’s not one like last night because I’m sure my morning breath is killer, but I just need it. I need to believe him this morning.

He smiles against my lips, then pulls away to kiss my temple. “You’re a worrier, Jay.”

“No fucking kidding,” I mutter.

“Don’t.”

It’s easier said than done when I feel like the very thing that kept me afloat is washing away and the water’s creeping up my throat.

“I can’t help it,” I whisper, staring up into his eyes again. I wish I could send him everything I’ve felt since we got here. I wish I could open my mind up and let him take a glimpse at the log of every thought, self-deprecating and self-affirming. Maybe then he’d understand how much this all means. It’s not the sex. It’s not the attention.

“I’m going to give you my phone number before we head home,” he says, stroking my cheek. “And I want you to call me if you need me to listen. Or talk you down from your anxiety. Or tell you how much I miss touching you.” The last one is said with a smirk. “Don’t try any of that nonchalant bullshit with me either. If you need me for something, you call me, okay?”

I nod, feeling that swell of burning in my eyes. Derreck kisses my forehead softly, then wraps me in his arms.

I don’t want this to end, but I know it has to.

Everything this perfect always does.