“Maybe we should get you one of those watches that logs your sleep,” he said, slurping at his straw and then frowning. “Shit.My coffee is gone.”
I shoved him. “How can you give me shit about my sleep schedule when you run entirely on iced coffee and your hatred of Carl?”
“That’s not true,” he said. “I also run on spite.”
I laughed.
He tossed the empty cup toward the nearest trash can, missing by a solid foot before veering off to grab it like that had been the plan all along.
“It’s different,” he insisted, dropping it in. “I need a vacation. You need a fucking sleep study.”
I wasn’t going to mention he just spent eight weeks in Sweden. “That’s dramatic, even for you.”
“It’s accurate.”
“It’s not,” I said, even though I could feel the edge of a yawn sitting somewhere behind my teeth, waiting for the worst possible moment to show up.
“Arch,” he said. “You don’t get to pretend you’re fine just because you had one good night.”
“I’m not pretending anything.”
“Mm.”
“I slept. You can’t take that away from me.”
“I’m not trying to take it away. I’m trying to make it happen more than once a week.”
“Dramatic,” I said, but there wasn’t much bite behind it.
The truth was, sleep and I had never really gotten along.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want it. I just… didn’t know how to stop once my brain got going. If I started something, I finished it. A paper, a book, a train of thought that should’ve ended hours earlier but didn’t. Leaving things unfinished sat wrong in a way I couldn’t quite ignore.
So most nights, I didn’t.
And when I finally did, it was usually because my body gave out first.
Which was how I ended up falling asleep over a plate of Pad Thai with a fork still in my hand.
Rhys looked at me like he could see the whole thought play out even without me saying any of it. “You’re in denial, Archibald."
“I am not in denial.”
“You areaggressivelyin denial.”
My phone chimed in my pocket.
Rhys chuckled. “Saved by the bell.”
“Shut up.”
I dug my phone out, thumb already moving as the screen lit up.
The email sat at the top of my inbox.
Financial Aid Adjustment Confirmation.
I read it once, then again, eyes catching on the same line like it might rearrange itself if I gave it long enough.