Chapter 10 #2
I stiffened instinctively, every muscle alert.
Behind me, Bennet shifted, the mattress dipping, his hand brushing the sheet as if he didn’t know where he was yet.
I held my breath as my ears perked up.
“Uh,” Bennet said.
I could get used to him waking up next to me. “You’re awake,” I said softly.
“Did I…spend the night?” he asked, disoriented. His voice was soft with sleep.
“You sure did,” I said, trying to keep it light and casual because I didn’t know anything else. “How’s my bed?”
He grunted as he got up. “I’m in my jeans.”
“I debated it, but then I figured it was better to let you sleep in your jeans than to undress you while you’re out,” I said, hating myself for the teasing tone I couldn’t survive without.
I sat up, my back turned to Bennet. I only once looked over my shoulder and discovered that his cheeks were pink and his eyes ridiculously beautiful.
He cleared his throat and swung his legs off the bed, rubbing a hand over his face like he was trying to wake himself up and reset at the same time. “That was…unexpected.”
“That’s one word for it,” I said. “Another would be efficient. You saved yourself a walk home.”
He shot me a look that was half-mortified and half-amused. “I fell asleep in your bed.”
“You did,” I agreed. “Ten out of ten form. Very committed.”
“This is not something I usually do,” he said, tugging his sweater straight and standing. “At all.”
I sat up fully and stretched, rolling my shoulders like nothing about last night had rearranged my internal organs. Humor was easier when I kept moving. “You didn’t snore. That already puts you ahead of most people.”
“That is not reassuring,” Bennet said, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
I grinned at him, because that smile was a gift, and I wasn’t about to pretend I hadn’t noticed it. “Relax. Nothing weird happened.”
That was technically true. It was also wildly misleading.
Bennet hesitated, then nodded. “It was still…weird. Given everything.”
“Everything being,” I prompted lightly.
He gestured vaguely between us. “You know. That.”
“Oh,” I said. “That.”
We stood there in the quiet room, morning light creeping across the floor, the unspoken thing hanging between us.
I clapped my hands once, sharp and decisive. “Anyway. You hungry?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Breakfast,” I said. “There’s a diner off campus. Greasy enough to fix most problems. Or at least distract you from them.”
He considered it, lips pressed together. I could almost see him weighing the variables. “I was going to go home first,” he said.
“You can,” I said easily. “Or you can get pancakes.”
His mouth twitched. “That’s not a fair choice.”
“I don’t play fair,” I said. “Ask anyone.”
After a beat, he sighed. “Fine. Breakfast.”
Victory warmed my chest in a way I tried not to examine too closely.
The diner smelled like coffee and fried potatoes and something sweet I couldn’t identify. We slid into a booth by the window, vinyl seats squeaking under our weight. Bennet curled into himself slightly, shoulders hunched, like he was still recalibrating to the world.
“You look tired,” I said, because apparently, I had a habit of noticing things about him now.
He huffed a quiet laugh. “I didn’t sleep well.”
“Shocking,” I said. “I sleep like a baby in unfamiliar beds.”
“That wasn’t unfamiliar to you,” he said, then stopped. “I mean. It was. You know what I mean.”
“I do,” I said, smiling.
He groaned softly and reached for his coffee. “Please don’t.”
“Please don’t?”
“Look pleased with yourself.”
I leaned back against the booth. “I can’t help how my face is shaped.”
Breakfast came and went in a blur of conversation that skirted everything important. I joked. He corrected me. He told me his legs hurt from the gym yesterday.
“Should have invited me,” I singsonged.
Bennet shot me a cool look that could cut through class. “Don’t need an audience when I’m at my lowest.”
“I doubt you were at your lowest,” I assured him. “And I wouldn’t have been an audience. I’m somewhat of an athlete, you know.”
“Are you? I couldn’t tell.”
That made my lips stretch into a smile. “Humor. Well done.”
He looked happy with himself.
“Are we doing it tonight, then?” I asked.
Bennet’s smug expression dissolved instantly. I could see the misunderstanding rising and sinking behind his eyes. “Gym?”
“What else?” But I was laughing on the inside.
Bennet thought about it for a short time, then shrugged. “If you insist.”
“I’ll meet you at the gym this evening,” I said. “I won’t mock you.”
He opened his mouth to say he was changing his mind, probably, then closed it again, eyes flicking away like he was annoyed with himself. “Fine,” he said. “But you’re not allowed to be annoying.”
“I make no promises,” I said. “And I won’t bail on Stats again.”
He looked at me then. “You swear?”
“I swear,” I said, and meant it.
We stood there for a second longer than necessary, the morning air crisp between us, the unresolved thing still unresolved.
But this time, it felt a little less heavy.