Page 33 of Silent Shadows

I grin despite myself and look away, staring at the ceiling of my bunk instead. I feel my vocabulary return, and manage to mumble, “You’ll adjust.”

“You sound very confident.” She sits back up. Although she’s out of my sight, the whoosh of her hair leaves behind a whisper of a scent I want more of—a mix of pear and palo santo.

“I’ve logged over five hundred nights in this bunk configuration.”

There’s a pause.

“You absolutely know the exact number, don’t you?”

“…maybe.”

“Jesus Christ.”

I hold in a laugh, adjusting my pillow.

Quiet settles as Jax, Maya, and Taylor listen to whatever's on their headphones.

It’s the kind of quiet that only exists around people comfortable with each other—fabric rustling. Someone charging a phone. Taylor whisper-singing to herself for exactly thirty seconds before she passes out.

I’m just starting to drift when movement shifts overhead again. A muffled curse follows.

Then, THUNK. The ceiling above Daisy’s bunk rattles violently.

“Ow,” she hisses.

“Did you just headbutt the roof?” I whisper.

“No,” Daisy protests.

Another pause.

“Okay, yes.”

I bite the inside of my cheek hard to stop smiling. “You okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” she whispers back.

“You sounded less fine a second ago.”

“I forgot I was sleeping inside a shoebox.”

“It’s not a shoebox. It’s spatially optimized.”

“You already said that, and it’s the nerdiest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

I settle deeper into my pillow, staring up at the underside of her bunk.

“You’ll learn the clearance eventually,” I say.

“Easy for you to say.”

I laugh a soundless laugh, like a mild case of the hiccups.

And for some reason, everything goes still after that.

Not due to awkwardness. Due to awareness.

Above me, I hear her shift.