Page 35 of Tessa and Nash

Smooth. Very convincing.

“Everything alright, love?”

I glance up at Nash, who is very clearly trying not to laugh. His shoulders are shaking. He bites down on his lip hard enough to leave a mark.

I step out just enough to be seen, heart hammering. “Yes! Just… water.”

I feel like a damn teenager all over again.

A pause.

“Is someone with you?”

Nash’s eyes go wide.

I smile in a way that might look normal if I weren’t seconds from cardiac arrest. “No.”

Another pause.

Then, “Alright. Don’t stay up too late.”

The hallway light clicks off.

Her door closes.

Silence floods back in.

I sag against the wall, pressing a hand to my chest.

“Oh shit,” I whisper as I kick my boots off, barely noticing when one thuds against the wall.

Nash finally loses it.

He covers his mouth, shoulders shaking, eyes bright with barely contained laughter.

“Your face,” he whispers. “You looked like you were about to confess to murder.”

“Shut up,” I hiss, swatting his arm. “You were grinning.”

“I thought she was going to arrest me.”

“She would’ve offered you tea first.”

That sets him off completely.

He laughs, silent, breathless, full-bodied, and I clap a hand over his mouth, half to quiet him, half because the sound of it makes a reckless warmth bloom in my chest.

“Come on.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

We move faster this time, quieter somehow, adrenaline smoothing the edges. I slip into my room and pull him in after me, closing the door with the softest click I’ve ever managed in my life.

The world shrinks.

Moonlight spills through the window, silvering the edges of my dresser, my bookshelf, the neatly folded throw at the end of the bed.

This is my space.