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I should say no.
I really should.
But that damn smile is melting my reservations.
I nod yes and let him lead me back to the hotel.
I brush my teeth, change into a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts, and I fall asleep in his bed, in his arms.
The chirp of the alarm is loud. The light of morning is streaming through the curtains.
There's Ethan, lying next to me, his eyes still closed, his dark, wavy hair hanging over his face.
I don't want to leave.
I don't want to pull back.
But I don't have a choice. If I stay, if I keep up this level of intimacy, I'm going to fall hard and fast and I'm going to break when he doesn't catch me.
Ethan blinks his eyes open. His gaze goes to the alarm clock. He stares at it like it did him wrong then sighs with pleasure as his slap silences the alarm.
He turns to me.
A smile spreads over his lips as his eyes meet mine. The way he looks at me is the exact opposite of the way he looked at that alarm clock. It's like I've done him right, like he wants more of me for every second of every day forever.
Damn, I'm already melting.
"Come back to bed. We have another hour." His fingers brush my thigh, my arm, my hand. The touch is affectionate, like we're old lovers.
I guess in a way we are.
Sitting in his bed, watching the morning light illuminate his chiseled features, I might as well be his wife. He might as well be my husband. We might as well have promised each other happily ever after.
But we haven't.
We won't.
I need to go before I get lost in this fantasy.
I plant a kiss on his forehead. "I have to catch up on work. I'll meet you on the bus."
He looks at me with all the affection in the world. He nods then his eyelids press together and he falls back onto the bed.
It takes all the strength I have to leave.
After a long run, a few sets of bodyweight exercises, and a shower, I pack and head to the tour bus.
I get set up in the kitchenette with my headphones, my textbook, and my armada of gel roller pens. I should use pencils like most of my classmates. I should at least buy cheaper pens if I'm going to chew the cap off them. But I can’t. I love the smooth line these leave.
It makes math feel as grand and important as it is.
I'm so lost in work I barely notice Kit's arrival. He nods then plops on the couch with a video game.
Two problems later, Mal steps onto the bus. He and Kit share a particularly strained look. It's strange. I'm pretty sure Mal spent the night with yet another fuck buddy. He should be rested and relaxed, but he looks frustrated and unhappy.
I'm sure the man is frustrated often—it is hard being in charge—but he usually hides it well.
He stops by my alcove to say hello. "Hey, Vi. Where's Ethan?" His eyes bore into mine. Abandoning him already? I thought we talked about this.
