CHAPTER 37
Quinn
Fuck, I should know better than to shop drunk. Now I’m tangled in sheets that smell like Cole and staring up at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, willing my brain to shut up.
But no matter how hard I push groceries, laundry, even the new bathroom tiles into the front of my mind, it circles right back to him. To the picture of him folded onto that couch like a pretzel. I’ve spent the last two and a half months trying to sleep on that thing. I know exactly how bad it is.
He should be in here. In a real bed. In his bed. Especially with Avellana’s opening next week. He needs the sleep. God knows Chad won’t be any help.
I’d suggested he sleep back at Avellana tonight, but he insisted on staying.
I was quietly relieved he chose here instead.
When he’s gone, the house feels too still, as if the warmth drains out of the walls, and everything echoes a little louder.
His things are scattered everywhere, proof that he belongs here, but it’s his laugh, his easy calm, that makes the space feel alive again.
It’s a comfort I’m already bracing myself to miss in two weeks, when the arrangement ends and he leaves for his trip.
After half an hour of turning the sheets into knots, I give up. I decide I’m going to march out there and drag him in here myself. Two functioning adults can share a bed without it turning into some cliché rom-com disaster… right?
Still, my pulse won’t slow as I slide out of bed, shivering when the cool air hits my skin.
My sunflower pyjamas are soft and faded, the cheeky “don’t get caught with your plants down” slogan cracked and peeling across the front.
A birthday present from Sophie, somehow still hanging on ten years later.
I hold my phone out, its pale glow guiding me down the hallway.
Cole’s still awake when I find him, propped against the arm of the couch, phone glowing blue against the crease in his brow.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask.
He startles, his leg slipping off the edge of the couch. “Yeah. Got a lot on my mind,” he mutters, scrubbing a palm over his eyes before snapping his phone screen dark.
“Come share the bed with me,” I say, circling the couch until I’m right in front of him, toes brushing the worn rug.
His eyebrows lift. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I flick a hand at the couch, where the cushions sag under his weight. “You can’t even stretch out on this thing.”
He shifts, long legs tucked awkwardly, proving my point.
“Come on.” I tug the throw off his lap, bunching the fabric in my fists.
“I don’t mind it out here.”
“Oh my God, Cole. Get up.” I yank his hand until he finally unfolds himself from the cushions. “I’m not listening to you complain about your back for the next two weeks.”
“Fine, fine. I’m coming.” He grins as I tug him toward the bedroom.
Back in my room, I flick on the lamp and start piling throw pillows down the middle of the bed. It’s ridiculous, but it makes me feel like I’m pretending to be sensible. Like a few lumpy cushions could keep me from doing something stupid.
“Uh, pillow wall?” Cole eyes my barricade, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He presses a palm against one cushion, as if testing its strength. “Not sure that’ll hold.”
“Yeah, we’d need a fort. Minimum.” I nudge one pillow higher, but the whole stack wobbles like it might topple.
He leans on the bedframe, watching me fuss like it’s the most entertaining thing he’s seen all week.
“You don’t think we need one?” I arch a brow, sliding my phone onto the bedside table.
“That depends. What if you’re the one I need to look out for?” He tosses a pillow at me. “Cute girls are the most dangerous. No one suspects them.”
“Ohhh, right. All five-foot-four of me.” I catch it, lob it back. “Terrifying.”
I grab another pillow, piling it on.
“Careful, this is how girl sleepovers start. Next thing you know, we’re in our underwear having a bubble bath.”
Cole smirks. “I’d almost buy that if I didn’t know better. But hey, I’m not opposed.”
“Oh, shut up. Get in.”
He steps closer, eyebrow raised, nodding at the side near the door. “Mind if I take the right? First line of defence if someone breaks in. I’ll keep you safe.”
I roll my eyes, but warmth flickers in my chest. “Fine. Works for me. Left’s my side anyway.” I click off the lamp, letting the room dip into shadow.
The mattress dips under his weight, and suddenly I’m hyperaware of the space between us.
My head tilts toward him. His curves away.
Our shoulders don’t touch, but the heat gathering between us is enough to make my stomach flip.
One wrong move and I’ll be pressed against him, and I already know I won’t want to move away.
“Mind if I play white noise?” I ask.
“Does that actually work? I can never sleep.”
I tap Spotify, crank on the white noise until the hum fills the quiet.
“Sometimes.” I shrug. “What keeps you up?”
“Opening night.” He sighs and turns his head, just enough for me to catch his outline. “I hate crowds, but I’m hoping Chad can actually be useful for once.”
“Same.” I sigh, rolling onto my back. “That’s why I probably seemed rude when we met.”
“What? You were lovely.”
“Really? I thought I was awful, ignoring you. Sophie always drags me into her messes, and I thought you were just another guy. I didn’t have the energy.”
“No way. You didn’t seem rude at all. Honestly, the second I saw you, my night got better. I was drowning in work and I’m glad I stayed.”
“I’m glad you did too.” I smile into the dark, listening to the rustle of fabric as he shifts.
“I think I can help,” I blurt before the air gets too heavy. “We’ll get Sophie to babysit Chad, keep him from wrecking things.”
“That’s actually a great idea.” His voice softens. He rakes a hand through his hair, eyes catching mine in the dim light. “If she’s cool with it, that would take a load off.”
“She will be.” I roll onto my side, blanket twisting around my legs. “How’s the guest list?”
He lets out a low hum. “It’s stacked. I should’ve asked—did you invite anyone?”
“Um… a few people.” Lie. Sophie’s the only friend I have left.
The thought of reconnecting with old friends knots my stomach.
I’d missed so many weddings and birthdays back then because Josh never wanted to go, and I learned it was easier to stay home than deal with the interrogation later.
Eventually, the invites stopped coming altogether.
“Well, I’d like to meet some of them.” He covers a yawn with the back of his hand, his shoulders sinking into the pillow.
“You will. And at least you’ll actually sleep tonight.” I shift, and the blanket brushes over us. “God, this house is freezing.”
He huffs a quiet laugh and gets up, rustling through a bag before handing me something heavy. It’s warm and smells like him, woodsy and clean.
I tug it over my head, the hem brushing my thighs. “Is this your hoodie?”
“Yep. My favourite,” he says with a small smile. “Can’t have you freezing to death.”
“Hey, I’m tougher than I look.” I huff, wriggling back under the covers.
“Oh, I believe it.” His mouth twitches like he’s hiding another comment. “Now sleep.”
He turns on his side, back to me, his shoulder a dark curve just inches away. I curl into the fabric’s warmth as his breathing evens out, steady, close enough I almost match it without trying.
“Good night, Cole,” I whisper.