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He groaned, but he obeyed. “Fine. It has been a long day.”
It had. I had shifted my entire life in twelve hours.
We brushed in our separate side-by-side sinks. It felt oddly intimate. I didn’t really know Michael all that well. I didn’t want him to see me spit. Yet we were engaged. The thought made me finish up quickly and go get in the big fluffy bed. It was cold in the room and I snuggled under the thick blankets.
“That’s my side,” he said when he entered the bedroom. “Scoot over.”
He actually patted my butt and kind of shoved me across the mattress.
“What the hell? You could have given me two seconds to move.”
“This was easier.” He spooned me and sighed as he relaxed.
I stared at the windows of his bedroom and blinked against the harshness of the overhead chandelier. “You do realize the light is still on.”
“Shit. Can you turn it off?”
“No! I was in bed first. The last person in turns out the light. Everyone knows that rule.”
“But you’re closer to the door.”
“Because you shoved me over like I was a cat in your bed.” I wasn’t getting up. It was December, it was snowing again, and my feet were cold.
He made a sound that might have been an agreement or a protest, I couldn’t tell.
“Michael, turn the light off.”
I waited, then realized the bastard was asleep. “Seriously?” I asked.
To which, of course, I got no response. I wasn’t getting up to turn the light off. Hell no. He needed to be trained. It was called fairness. Last one in turned off the light and I would die on that hill, proving that point.
Or sleep with the light on to prove my point.
I actually did that. It was a hellish, miserable night of sleep, but I did it. I tossed and turned, but I stubbornly refused to get up and put out the light and finally I settled into a restless sleep with the blanket mostly over my face.
* * *
In the morning, I vaguely heard my alarm going off. I turned it off, and tried to fall back asleep, not even sure why I had set it. Then I remembered why I’d set it. Because I had to commute to Washington Heights now that I was living with Michael. I needed to get ready and take the train, as opposed to stumbling down the hall for coffee and then straight to my computer.
This officially sucked.
My alarm went off again.
I pried my eyes open to find my phone screen and the harshness of the overhead light hit me in the eyes. Right. We’d slept with the lights on.
As I fumbled around, I actually knocked the phone off the nightstand where it continued to squawk. I ignored it, stiff and groggy.
“Felicia. Shut that alarm off,” Michael said, sounding sleepy.
“I can’t. My phone fell on the floor.”
“So get it off the floor.” He shifted in the bed, rolling over. “Oh my God, why is the light on? What time is it?”
“It’s five thirty. The light is on because you wouldn’t turn it off last night.”
“Are you kidding me?” He groaned. “Make it stop. My ears are bleeding.”
“You get it. That makes about as much sense as me turning the light off when you got in bed last.” The alarm really was irritating but I was stubborn and the air was freezing cold. We needed to talk about the thermostat setting.
