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Clayton blinked at him, looking as caught off guard as I’d ever seen him.

“What are you doing?” Declan asked, scowling at him, voice hard and mean.

“What—what am I doing? What are you doing? I saw all your lights come on over here. I went to your room—saw you were gone. What’s going on?”

“Max’s missing. Piper heard some noises. I came to check it out. I didn’t find anything, but you should crash here until the parents get home.”

Declan didn’t wait for an answer. He just grabbed his gun and left.

Clayton and I stared at each other for a long time after Declan had gone. “You were wearing that the whole time he was over here?” he finally asked.

His tone was neutral, but I knew what he was thinking.

“Don’t,” I warned him. “Don’t get weird. I was sleeping in this. I didn’t think about it, and he didn’t even notice.”

“How did he know to come over?” he asked. “You . . . called him instead of me?”

I ignored that, heading for my room. “I’m going to bed,” I spoke over my shoulder. “There’s a pillow and blanket on the couch.”

Of course he didn’t leave it at that. He grabbed the pillow and blanket and followed me right into my room. He’d never had much respect for ordinary personal space when it came to me, and I’d never exactly minded.

Still, I tried. I sent him a look. “What are you doing?”

He gave me a bland smile, but I knew him too well to believe it. “I’m crashing here, right? You’d make me take the couch?”

I glared at him. “As opposed to what? You sleeping with me?”

“Don’t make it sound so dirty. I’ll stay above your covers, on my side of the bed.”

I rolled my eyes and got under the covers. “Fine,” I told him, “but behave yourself.”

“Don’t I always?”

I didn’t answer, because it was debatable, and I didn’t have even an ounce of energy left in me to argue with him.

He turned off the lights and I felt him settle into the bed next to me. He stayed true to his word, above the covers, on his side.

“Be careful,” I warned him. “My dad’s liable to shoot you if he finds you in here.”

“I’m well aware,” he shot back, not sounding particularly worried about it.

I was starting to drift off when he asked, “Why did you call Declan, and not me?”

I gave him the honest truth. “I’ve no clue. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

He sighed. “Well, next time, call me.”

I didn’t respond, letting myself drift off.

I came out of sleep slowly, languorously, my mind half in and half out of a dream I’d rather stay stuck in.

It was still dark beyond the blinds. My alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but I knew it would soon.

Back in dream world, I’d been stuck at that moment, when I’d hugged Declan. In the dream, instead of leaving it at a hug, waiting for him to talk, I’d taken things into my own hands, and started touching him, running my hands over his chest, around to his back, rubbing him, rubbing against him.

And he hadn’t been stopping me.

I’d gotten bolder, pressing harder against him, hands sliding up to grip his hair, pulling his head down until our lips met.