Page 37 of Fourth and Long

Slater drops my hand and a second later he tugs his hat over my head. It’s a kind gesture, but it’s too late for my hair. We trudge through the deserted streets in silence.

By the time we reach his building, I’m cold and wet and miserable.

We stomp our feet when we enter.

I look over at him and roll my eyes. It isn’t fair—wet spiky hair makes him look gorgeous. I don’t even want to think about what I look like. My waterproof mascara is probably not living up to its name. And my hair—I don’t even want to know. Snow multiplies tangles exponentially.

“You should stay,” Slater says as we move through the lobby.

“Stay?” I ask absently, brushing snow off my sleeves. My toes and my fingers are frozen stiff. Four blocks has never felt so far.

“The night. You can sleep in my guest room.”

“I can’t stay the night. My car’s in the garage.” My voice sounds way too shrill.

He looks at me strangely. “Your car can stay in the garage overnight.”

“I know, but…I’m supposed to go home.”

“You have a cat or something?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you stay?”

Excellent question. Why can’t I stay? “It isn’t appropriate.”

“Because of your boyfriend?” he jokes.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I roll my eyes again. “I don’t know why I said that. I guess it seemed like a good idea to have a boyfriend when Amber was getting ideas about you and me.”

“A simple denial would have been enough.”

He’s right. There was no reason for me to claim a boyfriend, especially when it wasn’t true.

“Noted,” I say as I follow him into the elevator.

“It’s late. The weather sucks. You should stay.”

I’m making too big of a deal about this. But the thing is—I like him and I don’t want to blur the lines between us.

“You’ll stay?” he asks when we reach his door.

“I…” I have the notion that I shouldn’t. It’s like that feeling you get when you accept a third slice of cake. It’s not a horrible decision—it’s just cake—but once you eat it, you know you’ll wish you hadn’t.

“Please stay.” He opens the door and heads into the apartment.

I slowly enter as he disappears into the hallway.

I’ve never ventured down the hallway. Hallways lead to bedrooms, and I don’t have a reason to be in his bedroom. Not that I’d go into his bedroom even if I did go into the hallway.

Why can’t I stop thinking about his bedroom?

He reappears and stares at me expectantly. “You’re going to stay?”

It’s late. I hate driving in the snow, and he has a guest room. The only person making this weird is me, so I nod, drop my bag on a stool, and follow him.

He stops at the first doorway and I peer into the room. A bed sits squarely in the middle. It’s covered in a white duvet and flanked by two matching tables. In the corner is a comfy looking grey rocking chair. Why does he have a rocking chair? It seems like a strange accessory for a bachelor apartment.