“Unless you are still avoiding me.”
So, that was the game we were playing.
He had laid down the challenge, casual and cool from his corner of the couch, like he hadn’t just dared me to cross some invisible line neither of us had talked about yet.
I glanced toward my bedroom door. I could have retreated, shut it behind me, and spared myself the confusion that came with this new version of Josh—so familiar and yet so different.
Instead, I let out a quiet huff and peeled off my jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door. One layer down. One excuse less.
Slowly, I padded across the room. He’d done a decent job today, cleaning up the chaos that usually made the couch look like a lumpy bed. But as I sat down, sinking into the cushion beside him, that was all I could see.
I was sitting on his bed.
With him.
“Feel good to be sitting in your own living room again?” he asked, voice low and teasing.
“Never really had one before,” I admitted.
“What? Not even in college?”
I shook my head. “Nope. I mostly relied on dorms and what my financial aid would cover. A lot of shared common rooms and ancient furniture that smelled like leftover ramen and broken dreams. Not exactly HGTV material.”
Josh winced, his smile twisting. “Now I feel even worse for taking up this space. I’ll be out of your hair soon though.”
“I’m sure,” I said lightly, even though I wasn’t.
“Don’t worry; I’m not leaving the city,” he said, misreading the pause. “Just looking for another place.”
I opened my mouth to ask where, but he beat me to it.
“Maybe I’ll have you come check out the next one. Y’know, since you’re the authority on non-homey spaces.”
I blinked, caught off guard. The words weren’t cruel, but they hit something soft in me anyway.
He noticed immediately. “Sorry. That came out wrong.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said quickly. And maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. “If you need someone to apartment-hunt with, you …” I trailed off, pulling my legs up onto the couch, wrapping my arms around my knees until I was a small ball of uncertainty. “I wouldn’t mind being that person.”
Josh turned slightly, eyes meeting mine. A beat passed—quiet, but heavy with something unspoken.
Then, softly, “Sure.”
“Thanks.”
Shifting on the couch my feet brushed up against his leg. He jumped at the touch.
“Sorry.”
“Holy shit. Are those your toes?”
“Sorry,” I said, trying to adjust again so that they were tucked better under me. “I know they’re cold.”
“They are like ice cubes. Do you have socks on?”
“I run cold.”
He lifted the blanket that he had yanked down from behind his head. Before I could argue, he was already unraveling it, laying it across his lap as well as my own. “Get under here.”
