Page 45 of No Funny Business

“Good night, Olivia,” he utters softly.

I close my eyes and fill my lungs with the chilled air. “Good night.”

—

It’s not long before I finally drift off. And with Nick keeping my bed warm, I sleep soundly until the sun comes up. The AC drones on, pushing out arctic air. When I open my eyes, Nick’s snoozing next to me—snug as a man in a motel curtain. And oh so dreamy...

He stirs and his eyes peek open like he can sense I’m awake. “Are you watching me?” His accusation is enough to jolt me out of this snuggly sleepover.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just woke up.” If it weren’t so warm next to him, I’d hop out of bed and march as far away from him as I could.

He takes in a deep morning inhale and rubs his face. “I actually slept pretty good, considering your snoring.”

I have no defense so I say, “Same.”

He turns to me, taking in my morning look, and I pull the sheet up over my chin and mouth. “I didn’t want to say this last night, but you fart in your sleep too.”

That’s it. My face is now officially the hottest thing in the room. I gasp and shove him away. “I do not!”

He laughs, blocking my playful blows. “If you say so.”

“Don’t be gross,” I say, silently praying it’s not true. But if it is, it’s probably for the best. The more barriers between Nick and me, the better.

Nick presses his lips together, stifling his laughter. “I’m just bustin’ your chops. And anyway, my ears were too frozen to hear anything.”

Whew! Now that’s a relief (and not the audible kind). Too bad having this conversation in this context first thing in the morning is uber embarrassing. You know how hard it is to humiliate a stand-up? “Just for that I’m never sleeping next to you again. I don’t care how cold it is.” Or how hot he is, for that matter.

“Were you planning on sleeping with me again?” he asks.

I sit up, the motel curtain draping my chest. The room is like a cold pool that I’m slowly making my way into, inch by inch. “Let’s get something straight. We didn’t sleep together. We slept in the same bed. There’s a big difference. Capeesh?” Don’t be fooled. I’m saying this for my benefit. Not his.

“That’s too bad for you,” he says, climbing out from under the sheets and stretching his arms wide.

I find my glasses on the nightstand and watch Nick slowly peel one of the towels from the bed. “Why?”

He looks me right in the eye. “Because I’m really good at sex.”

And it’s like the mic drops. Or is that my jaw? I don’t know because I can’t think or breathe. That’s it. I don’t care. Screw the rules. Screw my better judgment. I want to screw him—

Clunk. Clink.

The AC unit makes a crinkly sound and craps out. Nick and I freeze then whip our heads toward it. Not a breath of air comes out.

“Is it?” I toss the covers off me and we give it a few more seconds.

“It is.”

Nick and I grin like we’ve just won the battle with the AC beast. We cheer at a decibel that will definitely wake the neighbors. But who cares? The damn thing is dead! With our arms flung open, I leap into his for a victory hug. He spins me around, our noses just inches from each other’s as we celebrate. That’s when I realize that this is the closest I’ve ever been to Nick, and by the look in his eyes, he’s feeling it too. I could. He could. What’s stopping us?

We drop each other instantly and he walks away.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he says, trying to sound casual. But we both know what just happened even if nothing happened.

“Okay,” I call in a pitch that’s way too high for seven in the morning. The bathroom door closes behind him, and I glance back at my bed with its piles of covers.

Oh, boy.