Chapter 20
lilah
When Luca finally finished showing us around and left us at the end of the hall with a casual, “You two can drop your stuff in here,” I hadn’t thought much of it. I’d dropped my bag in there and then gone down to the campfire without thinking about it at all.
But I was thinking about it now.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said flatly.
There, in the middle of the room, sat one queen-sized bed. Just one. Covered in fluffy white bedding like it was mocking me.
I wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders—the same one I was just sharing outside with Tino as I realized that something was different and natural and comfortable between us—and stared at the single sleeping space.
After all the insisting I’d done to Poppy, I really did think that Luca would give us separate bedrooms, or at the very least, separate beds.
The weird thing was that I wasn’t all that bothered at the idea of sharing a bed with Tino for a couple of nights.
But I couldn’t let him know that. I’d already opened up enough in the car. And besides, this was our game. Keep saying no, right?
“Huh,” Tino said.
“That’s not a ‘huh’ situation,” I snapped, gesturing wildly. “That’s a ‘what is wrong with this house and why is there only one bed?’ situation.”
Tino looked at me, clearly fighting a smile. “Sounds comfy.”
“No, no, no,” I said, spinning toward the staircase. “He has to have an air mattress or something. Or a couch. Or—”
“Relax,” Tino said. “We’ll figure it out.”
I glared at him. “You sound awfully calm for someone about to sleep two feet away from me.”
“What, you’ve never shared a bed before?”
“Not with you!” I said. “You’re like six feet tall! You take up space!”
He flopped backward onto the mattress, hands behind his head. “Comfy.”
“Get off!” I said. “That’s not your half.”
“My half?”
“Yes!” I said. “We’re dividing it right down the middle. Exactly fifty-fifty.”
Tino rolled over onto his side, grinning at me. “What if I’m more of a diagonal sleeper?”
“Then you can diagonally sleep on the floor.”
He gave me that lazy grin that never failed to get under my skin. “I trust you not to cross the invisible line.”
“Please,” I said. “If anyone’s going to cross the invisible line, it’s you.”
Tino pressed a hand to his heart. “You wound me.”
“I’ll wound you for real if you snore,” I muttered, crossing the room to grab my bag.
I tried not to think too hard about the fact that there was only one bed, one duvet, and one very traitorous flutter in my chest every time he looked at me like this was the funniest thing that had ever happened to him.
I turned away, pretending to rummage through my bag for pajamas.
When I looked back at him, he was still lying there, looking up at the ceiling, the corners of his mouth still curved like he couldn’t help himself.
I blew out a breath. “Fine. Whatever. We’ll set ground rules.”
He nodded solemnly. “Ground rules. Okay. Hit me.”
“One—we stay on our own sides.”
“Obviously.”
“Two—no funny business.”
He made a face. “Define ‘funny business.’”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
“I feel like that rule insults my integrity.”
“Tino.”
“Okay, okay! No funny business.”
“Three—no talking once the lights are off.”
He grinned. “Wow. Strict curfew.”
“Four—no snoring.”
“I can’t control that one.”
“Then suffocate quietly.”
He was outright laughing now. He sat back up and pulled his own duffel bag over to get his pajamas. “You’re very charming when you’re stressed, you know that?”
“I’m not stressed! And you’re enjoying this way too much.”
I was, in fact, stressed, but not in the way he assumed I was. I was stressed about how badly I wanted to share this bed with him and how determined I was to never let him know that.
“I just think it’s funny,” he said. “You’ve been fake dating me for a week and this is the thing that breaks you?”
“I’m not broken,” I said, zipping up my bag with a little more force than necessary. “I just… didn’t plan on this, that’s all.”
And I don’t want to admit to Poppy that she was right.
He sat up, elbows on his knees. His voice softened. “I’ll take the floor if it really bothers you.”
That threw me for a second. He wasn’t teasing now. Just… sincere. But worse, I almost felt disappointed at the idea of him sleeping on the floor. We hadn’t come this far just to take those five steps backwards.
“You can’t sleep on the floor,” I said automatically.
“Sure I can. I’ve done it before.”
“You’ll wake up cranky and sore, and then I’ll have to deal with it.”
His mouth twitched again. “You’re admitting you care.”
“I’m admitting I don’t want to deal with your whining.”
“Same thing.”
I threw a pillow at him. He caught it easily, laughing again, and then tossed it back at me with zero warning. It hit me square in the chest.
“Rude!” I said.
“Equal opportunity pillow fight,” he said with a shrug.
Before I could respond, he picked up another pillow and chucked it my way.
I dodged, barely, and the pillow hit the dresser instead, knocking over one of the framed photos.
It fell to the floor with a thud and we both froze, like we were waiting for one of the boys to come bursting in and demand answers for why they heard something fall.
Finally, Tino asked, “Do you think anyone noticed?”
“Probably not,” I said, righting the photo and setting it carefully back in place. “But if they did, I’m telling them you started it.”
He grinned again, that slow, lopsided smile that made it dangerously easy to stare at his lips. Why did he have to look at me like that? For a minute, neither of us said anything. Just the hum of the heater and the sound of my pulse trying to escape my body.
I turned toward my suitcase again, suddenly very aware of how much space the bed took up.
I could practically feel its gravitational pull—warm, soft, dangerous.
I changed in the bathroom as fast as I could, muttering under my breath about the universe hating me.
When I came back out, the lights were dimmed, and Tino was already stretched out on his side, scrolling on his phone.
He looked up when I walked in. His eyes flicked over my flannel pajamas, the oversized sweatshirt I’d thrown on top.
“Cozy,” he said, voice teasing.
“Functional,” I corrected, climbing in on the farthest possible edge. The mattress dipped under my weight. For a moment, it felt like the whole world was too small—like this little guest room was suddenly the center of the universe, and I was trapped in orbit around the boy lying a few inches away.
He set his phone down. “Goodnight, Lilah.”
“Goodnight, Tino.”
Silence settled between us. A minute passed. Then another.
“You’re still awake,” he murmured.
“So are you.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Hard to sleep when someone’s glaring at me from across the pillow.”
“I’m not glaring.”
“You kind of are.”
I turned to face him—big mistake. His face was right there in the half-light, shadows cutting across his jaw, the faintest smile still playing at his lips.
We lay there in silence, the space between us about six inches wide and somehow enormous.
I could hear the faint sound of his breathing, the rustle of sheets when he shifted slightly, the creak of the bed frame.
Another pause. But this time I was the one to break it.
“Hey, Tino?”
“I thought we weren’t allowed to talk.”
I roll my eyes in the dark and ignore his comment. “Why did you choose hockey?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you aren’t part of the band with your brothers. Does it ever bother you that you chose a different path?”
“Not really. I like having my own thing.” He was quiet for a moment, then he asked, “Why do you ask?”
“I was just thinking about the bonfire and you playing guitar and I just... I don’t know. I was curious if you felt left out at all.”
“Well now I do.”
I rolled my eyes. “Tino.”
He chuckles softly. “No. I don’t feel left out. Do you feel left out from your brother’s life when you come here and see him with his bandmates?”
It hurt a little bit, thinking about how the few chances I get to see Luca anymore are with his band or running from fan girls.
But something about the fact that Luca noticed that piece of me was like a balm over the sting.
“A little bit. Not left out from the band or the singing, just... from his life. I hardly ever get to see him anymore.”
“What if you could?” Tino asked. He cleared his throat and his voice sounded a little strange as he continued. “I mean, what if you could leave Hartwell and live here instead like Nina? Would you want to?”
I would be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind when Nina told me she was moving out here.
Initially, it was only supposed to be temporary while our parents were staying with our grandmother after she had surgery.
But she’d thrived so much here that she’d decided to stick it out for the rest of her high school career.
She’d complained occasionally about it since living with five teenage boys wasn’t exactly a picnic, but it was obvious that she loved it.
And if I was completely honest with myself, I was a little bit jealous. Except…
“No,” I said softly. “I wouldn’t.”
“Really?” Was that surprise in Tino’s voice? Or was it happiness?
I sighed and rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling.
“I love Hartwell. I love being at boarding school and I love seeing my friends every day and I would hate to…” I trailed off, knowing I couldn’t say the words I wanted to: I would hate to lose you.
If I left Hartwell, I wouldn’t really lose Poppy and Saylor—Poppy’s family lived right next door to the band and Saylor would be more than happy to come out and visit us.
But I wasn’t sure that Tino and I were close enough to survive that distance.
We would say that we’d keep in touch, but then time would pass and suddenly it wouldn’t seem so important anymore, until one day, we would run into each other at some event for the bands or whatever and realize that we’d completely forgotten about each other’s existences.
Then we would go out and reminisce about our Hartwell days, about that time we’d fake dated, and that would be that.
We might never even see each other again after that, save for our best friends marrying each other.
Emotion caught in my throat as I imagined that future. I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t.
“Hey, Lilah?” Tino asked, breaking the silence. I blinked and wiped at my eyes, not even realizing that tears had begun to spring up in them.
“What?” I asked, hoping my voice sounded normal and not choked up at all.
“If I accidentally cross the line in my sleep—”
“I’ll kick you.”
“That’s fair.”
Another pause.
“Goodnight,” he said softly.
“Goodnight.”
The room went still again. My brain should’ve been shutting down, but instead, it was very aware of the fact that Michael Valentine was lying next to me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his side of the bed.
This was supposed to be fake. Easy. No big deal.
So why did it suddenly feel like the hardest thing in the world to fall asleep?