Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Oh.” I wring my hands and give him my best innocent eyes. The couch looks terrifying. “Are you sure?”
He nods and glances longingly at the king bed before refocusing on the saggy pullout. “Yeah. For sure. It’s just for one night.”
“It can’t be that bad, right?”
We both nod.
It’s getting awkward again. “Do you want to use the bathroom first or should I?”
“You can go first, for sure.”
I nervously rummage around in my backpack for my toothbrush and toothpaste. It’s a leftover habit from my braces days. I disappear into the bathroom, heaving a huge sigh of relief as I close the door and flip the lock. I’m not sure how I’ll survive a night in the same room with Chase. I basically dream about him at least twice a week. I sincerely hope I don’t accidentally moan his name in my sleep.
I’m halfway through brushing my teeth when a huge crash startles me. I rush to unlock the door and poke my head into the room.
“For fuck’s sake,” Chase mutters.
Chase’s feet and arms are raised in the air, his long body folded in half and stuck inside the gaping hole in the center of the pullout couch. He’s busted right through the springs.
“Hold on! I’m coming to help!” I quickly spit my mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, use the sleeve of my new, excessively large school hoodie to wipe my mouth, and rush over to help. The mattress has sunk into the hole where the springs gave way. Stuffing and more springs poke out of the bottom. It sort of reminds me of a cartoon character stuck inside a Venus flytrap. He grabs the edges of the mattress to pull himself back out, but all it does is force him deeper into the hole.
“Stop flailing and give me your hand.”
“I’m fine. I’ve got this.”
“Really? Because it looks like you don’t have this. At all. Just give me your hand.” I extend one but have to push the extra-long sleeve up to my elbow for the seven hundredth time.
Chase tips his head back and gives me an appraising, doubtful look. “What do you weigh, a buck ten? How are you going to help?”
I roll my eyes. “Do you want to be stuck there all night or what?”
He takes my hand and I swear fireworks explode in my lady business. Chase tries to brace his other arm behind him, but all it does is break the bed more. It does create more space for him to move around in, though. Eventually one side of the mattress falls to the floor, allowing him to stand up and climb out of the destroyed sofa bed.
“Well, that’s a giant piece of shit. They better not charge me for breaking it.” Chase’s fists are propped on his narrow hips again.
His hair is a delightful, rumpled mess, his face is red, and sweat beads on his temples. It’s exactly how he looks in my dreams.
I avert my gaze back to the bed. “They’ll probably think we had swing-from-the-rafters sex on it.” The sudden additional awkwardness is as uncomfortable as an itchy wool blanket.
I can feel Chase’s eyes on me. “Why the hell would we have swing-from-the-rafters sex on a shitty pullout couch when there’s an enormous, probably super comfortable king bed right there?” He thumbs over his shoulder.
I keep my eyes fixed on the broken sofa bed. “So no one would have to sleep in the wet spot.” Why can’t I just keep my stupid mouth shut?
“That’s actually a good point.”
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye.
He pokes at his cheek with his tongue. “I can sleep in the tub or something.”
I sigh. The king bed is huge. The tub would barely fit him. Plus, if I don’t at least offer, I look like a jerk and he’ll probably say mean things about me to his friends. “Or we could use pillows as a divider, and we can each have half of the bed.” There, I’ve extended the offer. Essie would be proud.
“Deal.” He yanks the comforter down and grabs the pillows from the floor, arranging them in a row down the middle. “We can even have our own comforters. What side do you usually sleep on? Left or right? I usually sleep on the right, but if that’s your preferred side, you have it.” He looks at me expectantly.
I shrug. Dorm beds are tiny so it’s hard to say which side I gravitate to. “I can take the left.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.” He’s still shirtless.
What if he gets into bed and he’s wearing nothing but those pants? How will I sleep two feet away from him and his bare chest and his glorious muscles and exceptional hotness?
“There’s an extra set of clothes in the bathroom,” I blurt.
He runs his hand over his chest and glances at my bare legs. “Cool. I’ll just get ready.” He spins around and heads for the bathroom. I watch the muscles in his back and admire his ass.