Followed by a very obvious collapse.The bed frame gives out. All three of us go tumbling sideways in a mess of limbs and tangled sheets.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, staring at the ceiling. “Did we just—?”
“Wedefinitelybroke the bed,” Carter mutters with a bright red face.
Tate groans, rolling to his side and propping himself up on one elbow. “Fucking worth it.”
I start laughing. Like, ugly laughing,until Carter joins in and Tate groans again only to snort halfway through and bury his face in my stomach.
We lie there for a while on a broken mattress and it feels perfect.
“Guess I need to buy a need a new bed,” I whisper.
Tate drags his palm down my thigh. “King-sized this time. Reinforced.”
39
Haven
It’s been three days since I moved in, and I still don’t know where half my stuff is.
Which is how I’ve ended up on my knees in the middle of the gaming room, elbow-deep in a cardboard box trying to untangle my streaming setup without yanking my own hair out.
I blow a strand of hair out of my face and hold up two nearly identical HDMI cords. “Why the hell do I own this many?” I mutter, dropping them beside my tower with a defeated sigh.
Behind me, the hallway creaks. I hear the low scrape of a dresser drawer and the pop of an energy drink being opened.
Carter wanders into the doorway first, his shirt half-tucked, tie slung over his shoulder like he hasn’t quite committed to being a functioning adult yet. Tate follows close behind, fully dressed but with the sleeves of his black button-down shoved up to his elbows.
“Did you seriously unpack all this all?” Carter asks, stepping over a pile of bubble wrap and kneeling beside me.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I say, wiggling a USB hub in his direction. “And I refuse to stream from your setup one more time. I need my chaos back.”
Tate leans in the doorway, sipping from a cold brew can. “Could’ve waited till we got home. You know. The ones with actual muscles.”
“You mean the guy who strained his back carrying my candle tote?” I shoot back.
Carter raises a guilty hand. “That thingwasheavy.”
“I didn’taskfor help,” I say sweetly, reaching for the nearest HDMI cable and stretching just enough to make both of them look.
Carter groans. “She’s doing it on purpose.”
“She’s always doing it on purpose,” Tate grins, stepping closer. “You think sheaccidentallybent over like that?”
“I’m literally setting up my desk.”
Tate leans forward. “You’re settingusup.”
Their hands brush over my thighs, my hips, down the backs of my legs and I freeze in place.
Carter’s voice is low now. “You’re really trying to make us late?”
“Me?” I blink innocently. “I’m just setting up to stream.”
Tate slides his hand around my waist, pulling me against the hard line on his thigh as
Carter kneels in front of me, his eyes bouncing from my mouth to my thighs and back again. “Tate, we really don’t have time.”
