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But never in Dana’s room.
We reach the stairwell to the second floor, and I realize Dana is leaning even harder against my shoulder. I bounce my arm and she startles, her eyelids barely held open at all.
“We’re almost there, Dana,” I whisper.
“Almost there,” she repeats, eyes closing again.
I bite down. Only one way I’m going to get her upstairs safely.
“Dana,” I say, guiding her arms to my shoulders. “Hold on to me.”
I lean into her, wrapping one arm around her back and the other beneath her knees. She gasps as I lift her up, but goes quiet again, her arms curling around my neck.
Each breath tingles as I ascend the stairs, my nostrils filling with the scent of her hair. Clean strands intermingle with another scent, something light and floral, while her breath betrays alcohol. Halfway up, she nuzzles closer, her nose brushing against the edge of my neck, and I nearly tumble right back down to the bottom.
Keep it together, Morgan.
This is Dana.
Dana.
You’ve known her your whole life. She’s your friend. She’s your best friends’ sister. One of the few people in the world who knows what it’s like to walk a mile in your shoes. This can’t — and shouldn’t — be anything more than what you are… no matter how tempting her warm skin feels against your own.
This is the most I’ll ever have of her. Her touch is reserved for another man. A man like… Emerson Floyd?
I bite down hard as I reach the landing.
Over my dead body.
I don’t release her. I continue forward with her in my arms, carrying her down the hall to the last door on the right. Once inside, I nudge the door with my foot, letting it rest as close to closed as possible.
Moon and streetlight illuminate the room through her open curtains, a gentle pool of it targeting her bed. I walk over, my feet catching on a few pieces of clothing on the floor. Kicking them away, I set her down. Her body sinks into the bed, but her arms remain latched around my neck, forcing me to sit beside her, pulling me closer to her.
Too close.
“Dana,” I whisper. “Let go.”
She hums. Tired. Barely awake. Her lips on my ear.
“Dana.”
“Connor.”
“Dana.”
I reach for her hands behind my head. She lets me release her and I rest her arms at her sides, exhaling with relief. She’s safe and sound now.
I shift, preparing to stand up.
“Goodnight, Connor,” she says.
I pause, settling back down. “Goodnight, Dana.”
“Thank you.”
My lips twitch. “Don’t mention it.”
She goes quiet. I gaze at her in the dark, each passing second feeling longer than the last. Her chest rises and falls. Her eyelids twitch. Her hands fidget, still covered in those stupid stickers. The strap of her dress hangs loose over her shoulder, exposing the thin strap of her bra beneath it.
