Bedroom Lessons (Love Letters #2)

Prologue

“I’m gonna be blunt,” Sophie said. “I don’t like sleeping with you.”

I blinked. “I’m not used to sleeping with others,” I explained. “I try my best, but it’s not like I can control it.” Obviously, I was unconscious while sleeping. I couldn’t help it if I kicked the blankets or mumbled in my sleep.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “That’s what all men say.”

Were all men restless sleepers? I’d never heard of the idea before, but it reassured me. Perhaps it was an instinct left over from the caveman days, when men had to be light sleepers in case a mammoth invaded camp—

“And,” Sophie’s sharp voice cut through my thoughts, “it’s not an excuse to be selfish. It’s not all about you. I’m there too.”

I drooped. I’d stolen all her blankets during the night, hadn’t I? I’d done it with my older sister, Elena, when we shared a bed during family vacations. She’d shiver all night while I was cocooned in down and cotton.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time,” I said.

Sophie looked down at her strawberry and banana smoothie. I’d ordered an iced coffee, but it sat on the table, untouched. We were at Professors Lane Caf é , which was a popular coffee spot on campus. I’d taken Sophie here for our first date a fortnight ago during the winter break. With no classes to attend, I’d had a lot of free time and downloaded a dating app, which is how we met.

Her lips twisted. “Hayden,” she said, “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

I stared. “Is this because of the bed thing?”

Her chin tilted up. “It’s a pretty important factor in relationships.”

I really didn’t think that moving around during the night and stealing some blankets was such a deal-breaker, but maybe she was right. Couples slept together a lot. Couples who lived together slept in the same bed every single night. My nana said she had to wear earplugs to bed because Pop’s snoring was so loud.

“But I can be better,” I said. “I’ll… I don’t know, practise?”

She arched a brow.

“Give me another chance,” I said.

Her expression softened. “You’re a sweet guy, Hayden. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you over these past few weeks, but I don’t want to pursue this connection. I hope you understand.”

I committed the speech to memory because it seemed like a concise way to end things, and I never knew when having a template like that would come in handy in the future. But also, by concentrating on remembering the words, I distracted myself from the hurt.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m sorry about the sleeping thing.”

She gave me a small smile, reaching over the table to pat my arm in a manner that she probably thought was kind, but made me feel like a helpless child. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Yeah,” I said, weakly. “You too.”

She left after that, walking through the wooden tables and chairs that filled the caf é .

I’d managed to start dating a girl, then scare her off in the span of two weeks.