“Oliver, it’s really not a big deal–”
“Shush,” I interrupt. “Let me take care of you.”
Jude blinks, expression indecipherable, but they accept it. “Okay.”
As Jude disappears into the bathroom, I jog to my bedroom to grab the queen-size air mattress Harrison left here on Sunday, along with all my pillows and my comforter. I drag the coffee table and floor pillows out of the way, clearing the space between the couch and the TV stand. Lucky for me, Harry’s air mattress self-inflates, so all I have to do is plug it in and let it do the work. While it inflates, I lay my comforter over the surface, pile the pillows against the couch, and arrange the throws and blankets on top.
By the time Jude returns, they stare wide-eyed at my makeshift cuddle-puddle arrangement. “Holy shit.”
“Do you like it?” I yell over the air pump. “Or is it too much?”
Jude’s glossy eyes find mine, and they smile. “It’s perfect.”
Once it’s fully inflated, we climb onto the air mattress, settle into the pillows and blankets, and scoot close together. With our proximity, I catch a whiff of sandalwood and vanilla, and I’m instantly transported to the night of the party. My chest aches in a way it never has before—almost like a hunger pang, but not for food.A love pang.
Fuck. Now all the stupid romance clichés are starting to make sense. I’m literally experiencing heartache. Longing. Yearning. Ugh, how annoying. What have I become?
“Thank you for doing this,” Jude says softly, easing their head back against the pillows. “Let me know if I do anything that crosses a line or makes you uncomfortable.”
I exhale a laugh. That could never happen. “Okay. Same goes for you.”
Jude nods. “Can we hold hands?” they ask.
“I thought you’d never ask,” I tease, interlacing my fingers with theirs. I silently marvel at how our hands fit together so effortlessly, as if they were made for each other.
Fuck. I’m down so bad.
Sunday, November 9, 2025
“Before we play another round, I’ve got to pee,” Oliver announces, grunting as he heaves himself off the floor.
“Go piss, girl,” Max and I say in unison.
Celeste rolls her eyes.
I take the opportunity to stretch my limbs, groaning as I do. “Celeste, are you sure you don’t want to play a round?”
Celeste snorts, barely looking up from her phone. “Yeah, I’m very sure.”
“Actually, I’m probably done playing myself,” Max declares. “There’s a mixer tonight for first- and second-year students at Spirit, so I should probably start getting ready.”
“Oh, shit, that’s tonight?” Celeste asks. “Jude, are you and Oliver coming?”
I scrunch my nose. The Spirit Lounge is a nearby 18+ club, primarily for those of us not yet old enough to drink. It’s pretty tame, but it’s better than nothing. Tonight, they’re hosting anevent specifically for first- and second-year Eidola students. “You can ask Oliver, but I think I’ll stay in tonight.”
My phone vibrates against my thigh, so I curiously check it.
Megan C
Good morning, Lowe Ladies! Susan has asked that I initiate this group chat to prep for Thanksgiving this year!
I grimace. Lowe is Mom’s and Aunt Lisa’s maiden name, which is fine. It’s the ‘ladies’ part that annoys me. And how unnecessarily professional my sister-in-law is in all settings.
“What did I miss?” Oliver asks, plopping down at my feet again.
“Celeste and I are gonna go get ready for the Spirit Mixer tonight,” Max explains. “Would you like to come?”
Oliver glances up at me. “You interested?”
