“You’re literally falling asleep sitting up,” he said, and there was no teasing in it.
“I’m not,” I lied, even as my eyelids felt heavier.
He didn’t call me on it. He only bent closer to the paper and kept working, pencil moving with more purpose now, as if he was trying to prove something to me without saying a word.
My gaze blurred a little. The room was warm. The bed was soft beneath me. Peanut’s steady breathing anchored me in place. The sound of Jason’s pencil had turned into a metronome.
I told myself I would stay awake. I told myself I needed to watch him, to correct him, to make sure he didn’t decide to “eyeball” an answer and call it a day.
I told myself a lot of things.
My eyes closed for what felt like one second.
When they opened again, the room had shiftedslightly. Jason was still at the desk, shoulders hunched, pencil tapping once against the page like he was thinking hard, but his hair was a lot more ruffled.
He glanced back at me and froze.
“You asleep?” he whispered, like he was talking to someone skittish.
I wanted to answer. I wanted to prove I wasn’t.
But my eyelids were already sinking again, and the last thing I saw before the dark took me was Jason turning back to the assignment with a careful sort of determination, as if he’d decided that, for once, he was going to do it right. That and a smile.
Then sleep pulled me under, deep and quiet, with the ghost of his mouth still lingering on mine.
CHAPTER TEN
jason
I setthe pencil down carefully like the sound alone might wake him.
The paper in front of me was a mess of half-solved problems and scratched-out numbers. I pushed it aside and leaned back in the chair, rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands. My shoulders ached. My brain felt overcooked. Stats had stopped being numbers a while ago and had turned into shapes and blobs.
I turned in the chair without meaning to.
Bennet was fast asleep in my bed.
The sight of him made something deep inside my chest stir the wrong way. His glasses were off and sitting crooked on the nightstand. His hair had fallen into his eyes in a way that made him look younger, softer, like the sharp edges he carried around during the day had been set down somewhere out of reach. One arm was bent over his head, the other looseagainst his side. His mouth was slightly open, breath slow and even.
Warmth flooded my chest so suddenly I had to look away.
I dragged a hand over my face and exhaled quietly.
What am I going to do with you now?The thought was soft and tired and a little helpless.
Guilt followed right on its heels.
I shouldn’t have let him fall asleep here. I should’ve woken him, sent him home, kept things clean and simple and professional like he wanted. Like he deserved. Instead, I’d watched him sink deeper into the mattress, his voice fading out midsentence, his hand slipping from his cheek to the pillow.
I hadn’t had the heart to wake him.
No. Scratch that. That was a lie. I wanted him to fall asleep. I wanted the intimacy of him losing himself on my pillow. I wanted to lie in my bed tomorrow night and still find the lingering scent of his cologne.
I stood slowly, every muscle protesting, and moved to the bed. The room was quiet except for Peanut’s soft snoring from the floor. I hesitated, then reached down and pulled the blanket up a little higher over Bennet’s shoulder.
He didn’t stir.
I swallowed and glanced at the floor, then back at the bed. The floor was harder and colder than I wanted it to be. The fact that I wanted to be closer should have made the decision for me. I should have slepton the floor.