Page 15 of Any Port in a Storm

I offer him a hand up. “I have no problem admitting when I’m wrong. This was a lot of fun.”

As he draws back to his full height, I’m floored by his dazzling grin. “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. You did a great job. And, to be honest, I don’t think you needed those notecards at all.”

“I guess maybe not.” I grab my bag and catch Grace’s eye in the crowd. “Well, I should go meet my roommate. Thanks again for inviting me.”

He reaches for my wrist. “Wait. You still owe me one more fact.”

“I guess you’ll have to wait until next week’s history club meeting for that,” I tease.

For the rest of the week, I fall asleep happy, picturing the elated look on his face.

FIVE

now

“I’m just going to ask Max to drop a bag of my stuff at the door.” Nick’s texting wildly on his phone, ostensibly composing a list that reads “Sweater, sweater-vest, button-down, toothbrush” for his roommate.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds good.” I’m digging around in my closet for an extra set of sheets. I figure if I make up the couch like a bed, the apartment will feel more like a place appropriate to two exes who are platonically sharing air for a fortnight.

We’re silent for a minute, lost in our respective tasks. I know when he’s done texting, because I can feel his eyes on me from across the room.

I’ve always been able to feel his eyes on me.

Sheets in hand, I spin to face him. “What’s up?”

“Just…thank you. Again. For this.” He gestures around. “I really don’t know what I would do if it weren’t for you.”

I force a smile. “Wow, that statement could encompass a whole myriad of things.”

A gravelly laugh rolls out of his throat. “You always were a funny girl.”

“That’s me.” I drop the pile of linens on the end of the couch. “Now you’ll be set for later.”

“Thanks.” He leans his forearms on his knees. “What do we do now?”

I gingerly assume a position next to the sheets, keeping a cushion and a half between us. “I don’t know.”

“It just…it feels like it’s utter chaos out there, you know? And we’re stuck in here while it all unfolds.”

“I know.” I run my finger over the edge of a sheet. “At least we’re safe, I guess.”

“For all you know, you’re already infected and are about to share your germs with me.” He grins, then blanches. “Oh, god. What if I’m already sick and am now exposing you?”

My stomach lurches. “I love how your concern immediately jumped to my well-being.”

As soon as the words are out, I realize I shouldn’t have said them—especially the l-word.

“Of course I’m worried about you. People are dying, Laurel.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

It actually seems like he might be about to back out of this whole roommate agreement entirely. And I don’t think he has any sort of backup plan. While that isn’t my problem, I suppose, I care. I care a lot more than I probably should.

I think fast. “I promise, it’s okay for you to be here. The chances that either of us is sick seem slim. And even if we both get it, we can just take care of each other.”

Okay, maybe I thought too fast. I curse my stress-addled brain for once again saying something I most definitely shouldn’t have. Because now my mind is positively illuminated with images of Nick nursing me back to health, and I probably shouldn’t be entertaining them.

Something’s shifted on his face, too. Like wisps of smoke unfurling behind his pupils; a mischievous tilt at the corners of his lips.

God, why does he have to be like this?