42. Coraline
42
CORALINE
The warm steam from the shower curls around me, clinging to my skin like a second layer. I towel off quickly, slipping on a clean oversized tee Jasper laid out for me. The scent of his soap—something woodsy and clean—lingers on me, a subtle reminder that I’m making myself quite at home inside his house. My heart thumps a little faster at the thought.
I pad softly into the bedroom, where Jasper is dragging a towel over his damp hair, black boxer briefs slung dangerously low around his hips. The soft light from the bedside lamp casts a golden hue, highlighting the planes of his chest and the small droplets of water trailing down his skin. He catches my gaze and offers a half-smile, one corner of his mouth lifting in that way that makes my stomach flutter.
“Sorry, I thought I’d be out of here before you got out of the shower.” But he doesn’t look all that sorry.
He drops the towel in the hamper in the closet and reaches for a pair of sweatpants, his eyes flicking to the bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch again,” he says, almost as if he’s reminding himself.
“I feel bad about kicking you out of your bed.” I fiddle with the hem of the borrowed shirt. “The couch probably isn’t very comfortable.”
The thought of him sleeping on the couch tonight seems silly. But it’s not just about comfort. It’s about the strange, thrilling sense of closeness that’s been building between us all day. For the last couple of weeks really.
The night air hums with possibilities, and I can’t deny the pull I feel toward him. I don’t want to.
“You literally slept the entire afternoon on it,” he deadpans.
I nod a few times. “But that was a disco nap gone wrong. It’s nothing compared to sleeping a whole night.”
He chuckles, leaning his shoulder against the wall nearest him. “Do I even want to know what a disco nap is?”
My brows furrow together. “It’s a nap you take before going to the disco. Nana Jo said it my entire life, eventually I started saying it too.”
His lips curve into a soft smile. His too handsome face lures me in, sidetracks me with flashes of that same face between my legs earlier today.
“Stop distracting me with your face.” I wave my hand in the air like I can dispel the distraction. My gaze narrows as I look at him, suspicion nipping at the back of my neck. “I’m telling you to sleep in the same bed as me. Why aren’t you jumping at the opportunity?”
He pauses, his movements stilled as he studies me. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—surprise maybe, or a shadow of caution. I swallow, a nervous flutter in my stomach. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“You don’t have to do this, Coraline.” His voice is soft, serious and low. “This thing between us,” he says, flicking his fingers from me to him. “There’s no pressure, baby. On anything. Ever. We go at your pace and you can put on the brakes whenever you need to.”
I swallow, emotion clogging my throat. “Alright.”
“So don’t do something because you think I expect it.”
I roll my eyes, but it lacks the usual sass. “When do I ever do something because I think you want me too?”
The ghost of a smile curls up the side of his mouth. “Alright, then tell me what you want. Use your words, baby.”
I bite my lip, searching for the right words. “I want you in bed with me.”
There. I’ve said it. My cheeks burn with the confession, but I don’t look away. I feel vulnerable admitting it, even though it’s such a minor thing. I’m not even saying anything explicit, but somehow sharing a bed with someone feels more personal than fucking.
I mean, I hope this turns into fucking. But I kind of like the idea of this too.
His expression softens, a small, amused smile curving his lips. He drops the sweatpants onto the bed and steps closer, the air between us charged with a new kind of tension.
"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice low and careful. It's as if he’s giving me an out, a chance to backpedal. But I don't want to. Not tonight.
I nod, reaching out to link my index finger around his pinkie. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
He holds my gaze for a moment longer, then nods. "Alright," he agrees softly. He turns, moving to the other side of the bed, and pulls back the covers. I watch him, the realization of what I’ve just invited sinking in. My pulse quickens, but beneath the nervous energy is a warm, steady beat of excitement.
I slip into the bed, the cool sheets a sharp contrast to the warmth radiating from Jasper’s side. As we settle in, an awkward silence stretches between us. The bed feels both too small and too big, the space between us electric with potential.
Jasper clears his throat, his voice breaking the quiet. “Goodnight, baby.”
I turn my head, catching his eye in the dim light. "Goodnight, Jasper."
As the room settles into stillness, I close my eyes, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. Is there a chance for something real here, something beyond the pretense? Under the veil of darkness, the first kernel of hopeful possibility, I think there might be.
JASPER
The gentle hum of the oscillating fan in the corner makes my eyes feel heavy. But I can’t let myself succumb just yet. I don’t want to miss a second of sleeping next to her. For the first time ever, I wish my bedroom was somehow located in the back of the house, so I could see her better. The way the lake reflects the moon and stars is one of my favorite things about this place.
Her breaths are steady and even, a soft, soothing rhythm. I’m fairly certain she’s been sleeping for some time now.
I’ve never spent the night with a woman before, and definitely never in this house. It wasn’t personal, and I never wanted to be cruel. I just didn’t want to share my space with a hookup. So either they left, or I did. But like with so many things, Coraline is making a liar out of me. I would give her half of this house if it meant she stayed here with me.
And how fucked up is that realization?
I drag a hand over my face and let out a silent sigh. I’m in uncharted waters here, and I’m swimming without a fucking lifejacket.
The last twenty-four hours play on repeat in my mind, and it’s not even a highlight reel. It’s an in-depth slow-mo director’s cut of every moment I spent with the woman next to me. There’s this pinch nestled underneath my breastbone, a kernel of worry that this is too good to be true. That she’s going to wake up tomorrow and regret our time together.
I fully expect her to keep delivering that sass she likes so much. Fuck, I think I like it more half the time. My dick certainly does.
But if we roll back into Rosewood city limits tomorrow, and I see the slump of regret on her shoulders, it’s gonna fucking gut me. It’ll be so much worse than it was before, because even though I thought I had her back then, it’s nothing compared to how I had her today.
Today, she was free, uninhibited, and mine .
It’s gonna be hell going back to acting like she wasn’t, pretending like there isn’t something between us. A connection that quietly holds for years, a phantom in the background, just biding its time until it can come out of hiding. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?
But if she left once, she’ll leave again.
The errant thought plants roots inside my brain, a constant reminder of our past. I spent too many nights thinking about what went wrong between us, what the catalyst was for her to just up and disappear like that. Fuck, I’ve only done casual, so it wasn’t like it was a foreign concept. But in all my time on this Earth, I’ve never had a woman just flip a switch like she did. One day, she was all-in and I thought I might have my first fucking girlfriend at twenty-seven. Which is a strangely depressing thought itself. But it doesn’t matter, because she fucking ghosted me for weeks, and then when she resurfaced, shit was never the same. She wasn’t the same.
Until two weeks ago. When we started this charade that doesn’t feel even remotely like pretend anymore—if it ever has.
“Jasper?” Her soft voice breaks my train of thought, surprisingly the hell out of me.
I turn toward her. “Yeah, baby?”
“Can I ask you something?” she asks, rolling over to face me.
My heart races in my chest, a mix of nerves and anticipation. Midnight confession of her feelings? Maybe I’m fucking projecting because I was just spiraling about my own feelings for her.
“You can ask me anything,” I murmur.
She tucks her hands underneath her face. “Cool ranch or nacho cheese? You can only pick one for the rest of your life.”
A bark of laughter flies out of me. The kind of sudden amusement that makes your stomach ache and breathing difficult. It’s so random and sudden and completely her. I never know what she’s going to do next, and it’s exhilarating.
My laughter dies out quickly, but my amusement doesn’t. I look at her face, memorizing the way I can just barely make out her profile in my dark bedroom. “C’mon, baby, ask me somethin’ hard.”
She grins, a flash of her teeth. “Cool ranch then. Good choice. I don’t think I can be with someone who thinks nacho cheese is the superior Dorito flavor.”
“Of course not,” I say with a chuckle.
“Werewolves or vampires?” she asks.
“Zombies.”
She laughs, bringing her leg up to nudge me with her knee. “Wrong answer. You have to pick one of the options.”
I sigh, my lips twisting into a grin. “Alright, what kind of vampires? Twilight, True Blood , or The Vampire Diaries ?”
“Okay, now we’re getting to the good stuff.” She laughs quietly. “Caroline and Stefan or Caroline and Klaus?”
I scoff, my brows dipping toward one another. “C’mon, baby. Give me a hard question. Everyone knows Caroline and Klaus were the real endgame.”
Her laughter floats around the room, sinking into every available surface, including that small space inside my chest. A thought takes root, blooms too quickly for me to stop it. But I think I might love Coraline Carter for the rest of my life.
We face each other, her with her hair splayed wildly across my pillow and her hands tucked under her face, looking like this is exactly where she belongs. We trade questions back and forth for hours. Laughing and sassing, respectively until my stomach aches. It feels like I’ve overindulged on amusement.
Finally, the questions and laughter slow, and I watch as she loses the battle to keep her eyes open.
“Keep talking to me,” she mumbles with her eyes closed.
“You’re tired, baby. Go to sleep.”
“I don’t want this night to end.” Her voice sounds small, vulnerable. “And I wish we would’ve done this . . . before.”
I know exactly what she means. I curl around her, tucking her against my chest and taking the lead role of the big spoon. “I’ve got you, Coraline. I’ll be here when you wake up.”