But then a ripple of something passes through me—a sense memory, a flash of skin and hands and body heat—and I feel the instant, urgent need to crawl back into the belly of my bed and pull the sheets fully over my head.
Notjustfrom the lake.
A fierce, glowing shame burns in my chest, like I’ve swallowed a hot coal. I curl into a ball under the sheets so tightly that I can press my knees into my eye sockets, as if I can push the wavering feeling of about-to-burst tears back into my head.
I couldn’t just fail at the one thing I needed to do last night. No. No, the first thing I manage to do after narrowly surviving hypothermia and drowning, my first instinct when my own lifeand potentially the survival of the earth as we know it is at stake, issex.
I’d laugh if I didn’t think it would hurt.
Because on top of everything else, I’m also desperately thirsty, I realize. My throat is dry to the point of painful, and of course I didn’t fill my water bottle before going to sleep.
Swallowing fruitlessly, I push my way out of the nest of blankets and sit up. Sweats are somewhere—my water bottle, too. I can slip into the kitchen and back in two minutes; three, tops.
When I open my door, the hallway is quiet, and I’ve padded almost all the way down the stairs and across the first floor before I hear someone.
Kingston and Kai, busy at the counter, their backs to me and the fridge hanging open.
“Idiot,” Kai mutters. “What are you, cracking them in there whole?”
I hang back in the doorway, barely daring to breathe, but it’s too late.
“Gwenna.” Kingston straightens when he sees me. “You’re awake.”
“I am,” I say, hesitant. “I was just…” I lift my water bottle, as if I need an alibi to be in the kitchen. “What areyoudoing?”
“Making crunchy scrambled eggs, apparently,” Kai mutters, looking disdainfully down at the bowl in his hand, then up at Kingston. “You gonna pick all this shell out, or were you expecting me to?”
Kingston’s nostrils flare. “Fine. Why don’tyoumake her something?”
“You know what? Gladly.” Kai unceremoniously dumps the bowl of ribbony raw eggs down the garbage disposal and heads for the fridge.
“Did you sleep well, Gwenna?” Kingston asks.
“Yeah.” My face heats.You were there, I think. It's sweet, achingly sweet, to think of the two of them in here, trying to cook me something to eat. But the fact is, I don’t really feel like being…scrutinized right now. Especially in light of last night. Both parts of last night.
My gaze flies to the floor. God. I’m supposed to look him in the eye right now? Either of them?
It’s one thing to push back on being notnotthat kind of girl. One thing to be, I don’t know, sexually aggressive and give an impromptu blowjob in a fencing gym. One thing, even, to be with Lanzandwith Cal.
But these two…
I lift my eyes again, and both Kai and Kingston look away quickly—but not quickly enough.
They were staring at me.
My heart throbs in my throat again. I should just go back to bed.
“Hello?” a voice calls from the foyer, followed by the heavy slam of the front door. “Is anyone here?”
Morgan. “Kitchen,” I manage, my voice a little raspy. Kai’s suddenly busy with a package of bacon, a cigarette—unlit—jammed in the corner of his mouth. Kingston’s pouring a glass of water, which he hands to me.
“Thank you.” I take it, wondering if it’s better to chug it here and leave or make some excuse about why I need to go back upstairs, when Morgan bursts in from the dining room.
“Gwenna? Oh, thank goddess.” She swings over to me, a snow-scented breeze in her wake and coat swinging open around her. “You’re okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. They took good care of me,” I add, realizing too late what I’ve said. Jesus.
Morgan pays me no mind.
