Stranded With The Sleepwalker (Too Close To Resist #11)

Stranded With The Sleepwalker

“The universe has officially cornered me.”

“Nobody’s forcing you to brave a flash flood,” Cameron said. “Just throw in the towel and crash here.”

A crack of thunder rattled the frame behind me. The storm was turning ugly fast, making the thought of a midnight commute sound downright reckless. I looked back at him, weighing my options, and hate-admitted to myself that he actually had a point.

“And where exactly am I supposed to sleep?” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to maintain some resemblance of a defensive front.

“Right here. Beside me.” He patted the mattress next to him. “It’s not like there’s any malice behind it. We’ve done sleepovers a million times—”

“In middle school, Cam. Middle school.” I walked over and sank onto the edge of the mattress. “We’re not exactly twelve anymore.”

“You’re overthinking it,” he replied smoothly, turning his head on the pillow. “Point is, we’ve known each other since we were in sandbox territory. And besides, you should be thanking me, girls usually have to apply six weeks in advance for a spot on this bed.”

“Right… so you’re a total fuckboy now,” I snorted, rolling my eyes. “It really doesn’t suit you, Cam. It’s actually kind of cringe.”

He chuckled, completely unfazed, and despite myself, my eyes lingered on him for a second longer than they had any business doing.

The past few years had been almost offensively kind to him.

Cameron had gone from the skinny, all elbows and knees kid I remembered to someone who looked like he belonged on a hockey poster, all broad shoulders, muscle, and effortless athleticism.

The boy who used to disappear beneath oversized shirts now seemed to fill whatever space he occupied without even trying.

Even in the dim light, there was something different about him.

A quiet confidence in the way he carried himself, the way he looked at people, the way he seemed perfectly aware of the effect he had without needing to prove it.

And, annoyingly, he knew exactly how much he’d changed.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. I trusted Cameron more than almost anyone.

It was the new confidence that made him dangerous.

Because somewhere between the awkward boy I grew up with and the star athlete lying beside me now, he’d become far too good at making me forget every reason I’d ever had to keep my guard up.

Cameron must have felt me tense. His voice softened when he finally spoke.

“Hey. If you’re worried I’m going to make a move on you, don’t be.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Though… I guess I should give you a disclaimer before you get too comfortable.”

“A disclaimer? For what?” I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

Cameron widened his eyes at me, as if I had somehow forgotten the very thing he was trying to warn me about. “You know…”

I stared at him for a beat, then my expression brightened with sudden realization. “Oh, God. Don’t tell me you still sing cartoon theme songs in your sleep like you did when we were kids.”

“I wish it was still that harmless,” Cameron said, shaking his head.

“Okay, now you’re actually scaring me,” I said, squinting my eyes at him. “What could possibly be worse than you yelling the SpongeBob intro at three in the morning?”

“Something way less innocent,” he said softly, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I don’t talk anymore, Maya. I move.”

“What do you mean, move?”

“I mean… I can get real handsy when I’m out cold.”

Cameron delivered it with the kind of grave sincerity you’d expect from someone confessing to tax fraud.

A snort burst out of me before I could stop it. I clamped a hand over my mouth, squeezing my lips together, but it was useless. The laugh slipped right through my fingers, growing louder the longer I looked at his straight face.

“I’m sorry,” I wheezed, shaking my head. “I’m really trying to take this seriously.”

His expression never wavered.

“But how do you even know about this? Did you start groping one of your teammates during a movie night or something?”

“Shut up,” he said, unsuccessfully hiding a smile.

“Oh, that’s a guilty smile.”

“No, that’s the smile of a man with a story.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “It was my ex.”

“Oh yeah?” I arched a brow. “And what did she do when you started invading her personal space? Punch you? Shove you off the bed?”

“Let’s just say she never seemed to mind.” He shifted against the headboard, his voice carrying cocky satisfaction. “By week two, she was practically begging me to fall asleep early.”

“Right. Good for her.” Something small and unwelcome stirred low in my stomach, but I buried it before it could grow into anything worth acknowledging. “Just don’t go getting any wild ideas that I’m going to be nearly as accommodating.”

“Hey, I’m the good guy here… If my hands wander, one tap and I’ll wake up.”

Cameron let the silence stretch between us for seconds.

“…Assuming you want me to stop, that is.”

“You are unbelievable,” I planted a hand on his chest to push him back. But feeling the weight of him under my palm, and the weight of his words, sent the same unwelcome flutter I’d buried seconds ago right back to the surface.

I pulled my hand away as though nothing had happened.

“What? It’s a fair point,” He rebutted. “If you end up liking it, don’t fight it. Consider this my official pass to just enjoy the ride.”

Cameron didn’t blink. The lazy humor dropped from his face for half a second, replaced by a visual slide down my body that felt harder than a physical hand. It was an unspoken dare, designed to shatter whatever distance I was trying so desperately to preserve between us.

“First of all, gross.”

“Ouch.”

“Second of all, if your hands so much as graze my side, I will personally kick you out of this bed.”

“My lady,” he expressed, placing a hand over his chest with theatrical offense. “You wound me. I come bearing nothing but peaceful intentions.”

“You come bearing lawsuits.”

He jokingly rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, though. How often does this happen? What about when you crash with your friends? Or when you’re sharing a room with your family?”

Cameron’s smile faded almost in an instant. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment prior to answering. “Strangely enough… it doesn’t happen with them.”

“Why?”

“It only happens with someone I…” His voice trailed off.

“…Want.”

The word landed differently than everything else he’d said tonight. It stayed with me, lingering in the silence that followed. I couldn’t let it stretch any longer because the last thing I wanted was for him to think I’d taken that personally.

“Well…” I cleared my throat. “Then that automatically rules me out.”

Cameron said nothing.

“Oh, come on.” I crawled across the mattress until I was close enough to brace both hands on the bed on either side of him. He tracked every inch of the distance I closed. “Right?” I pressed.

“I didn’t realize you cared this much.”

“That wasn’t an answer.” I pleaded. “So… was that a yes or a no?”

I leaned back just enough to put some space away from him, though my pulse stubbornly refused to follow.

“I guess we’ll have our answer by morning.”

I let out a disbelieving titter. “Haha. Very funny, Cam.”

Heat climbed all the way to my neck. I snatched a spare pillow free before my face could betray me any further, and dropped it between us with a firm thud. A folded throw blanket followed, stacked neatly on top until the pathetic little barrier stood a few inches higher.

“There,” I declared. “Maximum-security containment.”

Cameron looked down at the target-brand defense system.

“You stay on your side, touch-starved monster!” I pointed at him.

“Dramatic,” he murmured, though there was unmistakable affection tucked into his voice. He glanced toward the clock and let out a tired breath. “It’s getting late, and I’m starting to get pretty sleepy. Mind if I turn the lights off?”

Cameron reached over, casually brushing past me as he stretched toward the switch, the brief contact sending annoying little nerves.

I could still leave.

The thought came with a sudden rush of determination. I could grab my things, ignore the storm, and go home. I could tell Cameron that I’d changed my mind and that, despite the weather, I’d rather sleep in my own bed.

Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance. I watched another sheet of rain sweep, heavier than just minutes ago, blurring the streetlights outside into trembling smears of gold. The storm didn’t look like it was letting up anytime soon.

Great. Apparently, fate had made the decision for me. I turned back, still caught somewhere between stubbornness and practicality, when Cameron’s hand found the switch.

Click.

The room disappeared the moment the lamp clicked off, swallowed by the kind of darkness that erased every familiar shape.

The ceiling vanished. The dresser across the room dissolved into nothing.

Even the ridiculous pillow barricade I’d built with such confidence a few minutes ago no longer existed unless I reached out to touch it.

I pulled the duvet up to my chin and carefully moved to the edge until I couldn’t move another inch without risking a fall.

My body stayed unnaturally still, every muscle held tight as though relaxing would somehow invite disaster.

It was ridiculous, really. There was an entire fortress between us, and Cameron had promised multiple times that if anything happened, all I had to do was wake him.

So why couldn’t I stop thinking about it? Why was every single bit of my skin thrilling with anticipation?

I tried distracting myself by counting my breaths. Inhale. Exhale. Slow and even. For a little while, it almost worked. My body loosened, and the stream of thoughts in my head finally began to quiet.

Then, somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t following my own breathing anymore.

I was listening to Cameron’s.